ng.

    "Myonlyvidpassion,"Hlinkasaidtome."Enjoy.Wearenotsodifferent,youandI.Strangecreatureswithrareloves.Onlyyou,myfriend,youplay,andIbutlisten."

    IplayedalldayforFatherHlinka,whoiedoldparishledgersofbaptisms,weddings,andfunerals.Idazzledhimwithindesdextravagance,leaningintotheextraoctaveofbass,andhammeredoutthemadfinalefromJosephJongensSymphoniecertante.Ageeatthatkeyboard,aohearpositionsofmyownierludes.Themusicstirredmemoriesthatexistedbeyoown,andonthatgloriousafternoonIexperimehvariationsandwassocarriedawaythatIfotaboutFatherHlinkauntilheretury-hafiveoclock.FrustratedbyhisownfailuretofindanyrecordsoftheUngerlands,hecalledhispeersatSt.Wenceslas,aintouchwiththearchivistsoftheaba.BartholomewandSt.Klarachurchestohelpscourthroughtherecords.

    Iwasrunningoutoftime.Despitetherelativefreedom,wewerestillindangerofbeingaskedforourpapers,andwehadnovisaforCzechoslovakia.TesshadplainedoverbreakfastthatthepolicewerespyingonherwhenshevisitedtheBlackTower,followiheartterontheRu?ov?kope?ek.Schoolchildrenpoiheroreets.Isawthem,too,runningintheshadows,hidingindarkers.OnWednesdaym,shegrousedaboutspendingsomuchofourhoneymoonalone.

    "Justonemoreday,"Ipleaded."Theresnothingquitelikethesoundinthatchurch."

    "Okay,butImstayingintoday.Wouldntyourathergobacktobed?"

    WhenIarrivedattheloftlatethatafternoon,Iwassurprisedtofindthepriestwaitingformeatthepipean."Youmustletmetellyourwife."Hegrinned."Wehavefoundh