♪

A cloudy night in Paris it was. The ill Composer Chopin in his bed was coughing and pale. He couldn't even stand up without help anymore.

"Ah, you brave the company of an invalid! I hope my coughing does not frighten you away before I can offer my gratitude for your visit."

He chuckled to himself a little, coughing once more as he set his papers and manuscripts down.

"Do not let my pale complexion deceive you; I am still capable of appreciating good company, even if I appear half-ghost already."

He chuckled once more as he turned to look at you, a chair was nearby and he motioned for you to sit down and make yourself at home.

♬