“Why not?” I asked, looking fixedly at her.
“Because I will not make the romance of an hour a question for life.”
“All you are saying to Francis may be very gallant and witty, nephew,” cried the General, “but it is not polite to leave the card-table in the midst of a game.”
“If the Freule would join us we could play quadrille,” said Rolf.
“Thanks, Captain, I prefer playing the piano, if it does not disturb you.”
Her playing was like herself, fantastic and bizarre; gradually, however, it became sweet and melancholy, and moved me almost to tears. My thoughts were with the music, and I lost every game afterwards. The General was furious, and let me perceive it. I was about to pay my debt, when Francis entered precipitately, and said in a decided tone—so decided, indeed, as to displease me—that I should not pay. I answered in the same tone, and to cut short all arguments I placed the money on the table. She then tried to snatch out of Rolf’s hand the note I had given him. I told her I thought her interference very unbecoming.
“Oh, very well; it’s all the same to me if you wish to be plundered.”
And with this she returned to the piano; whilst the General, who seemed to gloat over his gains, remained silent during this little scene. It gave me a painful insight into his character. I pitied the old man, who played not for amusement but for the sake of money, and would take it in large or small sums from a poor relation or a richer man.
But at the same time, as I went to join Francis at the piano, I thought my money well spent in discovering the General’s weakness, which had so influenced his granddaughter’s past life.
“Will you play?” she asked, brusquely.