The Blind Musician by Vladimir Korolenko

At first no one perceived it. The boy had that vague way of looking at objects common to all very young infants. As the days went by, the life of the newborn man could soon be reckoned by weeks. His eyes grew clearer; the thin film that had overspread them disappeared, and the pupil became defined. But the child was never seen to turn his head, to follow the bright sunbeams that found their way into the room; nor did the merry chirping of the birds, nor the rustling of the branches of the green beech-trees in the shaded garden beneath the windows, attract his notice.

The mother, who had now recovered, was the first one to mark with anxiety the strange immobility of the child's expression, so invariably calm and serious. With pitiful eyes, like a frightened dove, she would question those about her: "Tell me what makes him look so unnatural?"