Sometimes Mamma Valerius would come and listen
behind the door, wipe away a tear and go down-stairs again on tiptoe,
sighing for her Scandinavian skies.
Daae seemed not to recover his strength until the summer,
when the whole family went to stay at Perros-Guirec, in a far-away
corner of Brittany, where the sea was of the same color as in his
own country. Often he would play his saddest tunes on the beach
and pretend that the sea stopped its roaring to listen to them.
And then he induced Mamma Valerius to indulge a queer whim of his.
At the time of the "pardons," or Breton pilgrimages, the village
festival and dances, he went off with his fiddle, as in the old days,
and was allowed to take his daughter with him for a week.
They gave the smallest hamlets music to last them for a year and
slept at night in a barn, refusing a bed at the inn, lying close
together on the straw, as when they were so poor in Sweden.
At the same time, they were very neatly dressed, made no collection,
refused the halfpence offered them; and the people around could
not understand the conduct of this rustic fiddler, who tramped
the roads with that pretty child who sang like an angel from Heaven.
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