The Blind Musician by Vladimir Korolenko

But the face of the blind man showed none of the rapture that had taken possession of his audience. It was plain that even this piece had not given him the satisfaction he was looking for. The last notes vibrated like the others, intimating the same question -- a murmur of dissatisfaction; and as the mother looked at her son's face she saw in it an expression which was familiar to her. The sunny day of that faraway spring was revived in her memory, when her boy lay prostrated on the bank of the river, overcome by the too vivid emotions of the new and exciting world of spring. This expression however rested but for a moment on Peter's face, then vanished.

Now the hum of voices filled the parlor. Stavruchènko embraced the musician with enthusiasm. "By Jove! my dear fellow, you play finely! That is the kind of playing we like!"