solve it 2

Read the passage and answer the questions

It was in the spring of my 64th year that I first heard of the seraphic melody. A generous grant from the Yale Institute of Sacred Music allowed me to spend two years in Vienna, Austria, in the dust of the basement libraries that riddle the old city.  

I had an apartment in the Margareten district. Though the subway provided convenient transport, I often found myself wandering. I've always had a strange feeling that the forgotten makers of history watch us, hidden in some crinkle of time—never was this feeling as strong as in Vienna. Munching on kasekrainer, or sausage, that I bought from street vendors, I wandered the stone and glass, alone with my thoughts. I even dreamed about aimless wanderings.  

But that was my free time. In truth, I spent most of my waking hours seated, bent over a book, or else with my nose to library stacks. I frequented the major institutions, of course. But my research at that time—the rather scholarly branch of pre‐Baroque xenharmonics (alternate music tuning systems)—led me further and further off the beaten path, to museums and specialized libraries on the city's suburbs, and from there to the personal libraries and collections of Vienna's elusive musical devotees.  

It was in the personal library of an architect by the name of Heimito Wolf that I first laid eyes on Schuppen des Drachens. (In English, Scales of the Dragon, a musical pun and a reference to the book's subject: music categorized as “supernatural” or “occult.”) As befits its shadowy subject, Schuppen des Drachens' origin is mysterious. Scholars agree it's the work of a secret society related to the Church and to the Viennese musical world—when the book was written, sometime in the 16th century, the two could hardly be separated. In any case, it's an encyclopedia of musical styles, specifically those musical styles beyond the old Church's realm.

That is to say, beyond the realm of the acceptable in that time period.  

The one entry of a musical style within the massive book that most enchanted me took up only half a page. The account there was so fantastical, so literally incredible that at first glance I took it for nothing more than myth—no more true than the dragon of the book's title. It had nothing at all to do with my research, and yet two aspects clung to me, and I couldn't shake them.  

First, the melody itself. In English it translates to seraphic or angelic melody: a melody so bewitching that when played twice, the second playing is more pleasing than the first, and the third more than the second, the fourth more than the third, and on and on forever.  

Supposedly, according to Schuppen des Drachens' long‐forgotten author, the musician who dares to play the melody enters a sort of trance, unable or unwilling to put down his instrument. He plays on until he drops of exhaustion. When he wakes, his fingers can no longer play the piece, but the memory of the melody haunts him.  

Second: the author continues, in a rather over‐the‐top style, to tell the tale of one such musician. (Lute, I believe, was his instrument, though the seraphic melody seems equally playable on any instrument.) The musician wanders from one Austrian court to another like a phantom, unable to forget his brief touch with the divine and equally unable to evoke once more that touch. As I recall the story, a duke takes pity on the musician and takes him into his care. The musician, who lives until his eighties, never leaves the duke's estate. He spends his days in the garden standing with his arms at his sides and his closed eyes directed up at the heavens, humming to himself.

Before I left, I mentioned Schuppen des Drachens to Herr Wolf. My reference was discrete, made only in passing. From deep within his oversized, overstuffed, burgundy armchair, Wolf broke into a fit of coughing. When he had recovered, he asked why I was interested. Thinking little of it, I mentioned the seraphic melody. His face clouded over. In thickly‐accented English, he warned me to forget the story. Naturally this only piqued my interest, and when I insisted, he wrote an address on a piece of paper. He said that if I visited the address, I was to deny ever having met him, ever having heard of him, and, in no uncertain terms, to never contact him again.  

I spent the next week in a cloud. It was impossible to concentrate on my work. My readings, dense enough to begin with, came to me as though written in a foreign language; even the prospect of writing, normally a pleasure, was hopeless. The idea of visiting the address, however, terrified me. I had known Herr Wolf for two decades. He was neither a coward nor a liar. He was not a gullible man.

In the end, the anxiety of not knowing won out. Following Wolf's address, I found myself at a typical‐looking street in the Alsergrund district, a locale neither busy nor sparse, and entered what appeared to be an apartment complex. Wolf's address, however, named no apartment number. I almost walked out. But though I can boast of no great heroism, and in fact devoted my life to study and quietude, nevertheless to resign myself to fate was unsatisfactory, distasteful. resolved to investigate further. The doors to the eight apartments, two on each floor,

were equally ordinary. The door to the roof was locked. Neither did I find any possibilities on the ground floor, though I searched the broom closets and even the basement, where I found nothing except the water heater, gas meters, and cleaning supplies.  

I stepped out of the building and surveyed the area. Right away I noticed the entranceway descending into the ground, just to the side of the steps on which I stood. Following the stairs as they turned out of sight of the street, I came to a locked door. A swift elbow to the glass and I was able to reach in and open it from the inside. The space was smaller than an elevator and roofless, open to the sky—a shaftway, maybe. By the light that came down to those depths I saw a symbol on the wall: a pale man with a flute, not playing the flute, but holding it at his side as he looks skyward, up to the sun that streams down on him. I assume he was painted on the stone, but so old and faded was the symbol that it was difficult to tell for sure.  

There's something more about him that I find difficult to put into words. Maybe in my excited state my imagination got the best of me. He seemed not to be moving, but somehow implying movement—about to drop to a knee, or maybe leap in the air. Something. I couldn't be sure. Equally, he seemed to imply where he had just been. Again, perhaps sitting, walking, talking, nothing definite—he was one image that for me represented many images, like where he came from and where he might be going, two paths darkening as they receded from the present.  

He meant little to me at first, but I think of him constantly now. Each day he occupies me more and more. The hallways of time are so long, and you never get a bird's eye view. I'm beginning to think they are not hallways at all, but a maze.

1. Where does the narrator first learn of the seraphic melody?

A from an architect named Heimito Wolf

B at the Yale Institute of Sacred Music

C in the book Schuppen des Drachens

D at a major academic institution in Vienna

2. At the end of the story, the narrator goes to an address given to him by Herr Wolf.

What motivates the narrator’s actions?

A. He wants to learn more about the seraphic melody.

B. He does not believe in the myth of the seraphic melody.

C. He wants an excuse not to visit Herr Wolf ever again.

D. He wants to show Herr Wolf that he is not gullible.

3. The narrator is a successful, recognized music scholar. What evidence from the passage best supports this conclusion?

A The narrator researches pre-Baroque alternate music tuning systems.

B The narrator receives a grant from the Yale Institute of Sacred Music.

C The narrator spends most of his time in libraries and academic institutions.

D The narrator becomes interested in a book in the library of Herr Wolf.

4. When the narrator mentions the seraphic melody to Herr Wolf, his face clouds over and he warns the narrator to forget the story. Based on this information, what can you conclude about Herr Wolf?

A Herr Wolf has no interest in the seraphic melody.

B Herr Wolf thinks the seraphic melody is a myth.

C Herr Wolf has never heard of the seraphic melody.

D Herr Wolf has experience with the seraphic melody.

5. What is this story mostly about?

A the study of pre-Baroque xenharmonics (alternate music tuning systems)

B the book Schuppen des Drachens and its ties to Viennese secret societies

C a mysterious melody that a scholar learns about while studying in Austria

D how the Church dictated acceptable musical styles in Europe in the 16th century

6. What does the phrase “piqued my interest” mean?

A made me curious

B made me forget

C made me uninterested

D made me afraid