Odette was a wonderful pianist. Her exceptional musical talent had been cultivated until perfection was the result. She never waited to be urged. Only indifferent performers require coaxing and persuading, before they will attack the unfortunate piano.
"What will you have?" she asked, turning to her hostess.
"Beethoven—his music suits all tastes."
Odette commenced the sonata in C sharp, minor—that marvelous work—it is a soul crying out in its agony. Mme. Frager played it with her whole heart, and when she had finished, all remained silent still affected by its wonderful beauty.
The sound of the door-bell broke the silence.
"Who can be coming here so late?" exclaimed Mme. de Smarte, in astonishment.
A servant opened the door to the drawing-room, and announced:
"M. Paul Frager."
Odette started to her feet as she heard her husband's name, and stood leaning against the piano.
The young man's features were distorted and pale. He was trembling, and yet seemed rigid in his stately dignity.