Although she felt she would never tire of this spectacle,
she gradually became aware of another marvel - one that had escaped her till now:
she could not only see the shaft of light that streamed down from the centre of the dome; she could hear it as well.
At first it reminded her of wind whistling in distant treetops,
but the sound swelled until it resembled the roar of a waterfall or the thunder of waves breaking on a rocky shore.
More and more clearly, Momo perceived that this mighty sound consisted of innumerable notes
whose constant changes of pitch were forever weaving different harmonies. It was music, yet it was also something else.
All at once, she recognized it as the faraway music she had sometimes faintly heard while listening to the silence of a starry night.
But now, as the sound became ever clearer and more glorious, she sensed that it was the resonant shaft of light
that summoned each bud from the dark depths of the lake and fashioned it into a flower of unique and inimitable beauty.
The longer she listened, the more clearly she could make out individual voices - not human voices,
but notes such as might have been given forth by gold and silver and every other precious metal in existence.
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