A suspicion that I might possess musical talent was first kindled in L’zy. The peasant women of L’zy sang an attractive and restful song on their way home in the evening from the fields, a song I have recalled in the early hours of evening at odd times throughout my life. They sang it in octaves- unharmonized, of course – and their high, shrill voices sounded like a billion bees. I was never a precocious child, and I have never enjoyed extraordinary powers of memory, but this song was branded in my ear the first time I heard it. My nurse brought me home from the village, where we had been perambulating one afternoon and my parents, who were then trying to coax me to talk, asked me what I had seen there. I said I had seen the peasants and heard them sing, then sang what they had sung. Everyone was astonished and impressed, and my father remarked that I had a wonderful ear. I was happy about this, of course, and must have purred with pride.