When the great organ pealed forth, he forgot all these things. He forgot even his father, seated at his side. He had never heard such music before. It seemed to him like music from heaven. In some of the churches there was singing as well as organ music. One day, while in Rome, Wolfgang visited the Sistine Chapel. He heard some singing that he never forgot. A choir of about thirty voices sang a very beautiful, yet very mournful, piece of music. When the music began, all the candles were burning brightly. As the singing went on, the candles were extinguished one by one. The chapel became more and more dim. The choir sang softly and still more softly. At last not one candle was left burning. No sound could be heard but the sad, sad music and the sobs of the people. Throughout the whole service, the child Mozart sat with clasped hands and bended head. When the music died away, he arose and walked home in silence. He went to his own room and wrote from memory the music which he had heard. It is a rule of the Sistine Chapel that only the members of the choir shall have copies of this music. Many others had asked permission to copy it. They had always been refused. Many had tried to write it from memory; but they had always failed. So it was a wonderful thing that this youth had written the difficult music from memory. When Wolfgang showed the music to his friends, they could not believe that he had written it correctly. "Let us have a concert," they said. "Let the lad sing the chapel music for us. We shall hear whether or not he has remembered it correctly." The concert was held. Young Mozart sang the music from his own copy. It was perfect from beginning to end. While Wolfgang was in Rome, the Pope bestowed a great honor upon him. He made him a Knight of the Golden Spur. That was one of the greatest honors that he could have received in Italy. Wolfgang was very proud to wear the beautiful golden cross. From Rome, the Mozarts went to Naples. There Wolfgang gave a concert before a large audience. When he was in the middle of a sonata, the people became uneasy. They whispered to one another; they pointed to the hands of the young musician; they became more and more excited. Young Mozart wondered at the noise, yet he went on with the sonata. At last his father learned the cause of the disturbance and explained it to his son. He told him that the people believed there was a charm in the diamond ring which he wore upon his left hand. "If the ring is not a charm," they said, "how can he play so rapidly with the left hand?" When Wolfgang heard this, he laughed merrily and took the ring from his finger. When he began to play again, the audience thought the music was even more wonderful than before.