“It is so nice here,” he declared, persuasively; “only for a few minutes we stay.”
She sat down forthwith; he followed suit. A maid came and took his order, and then he clasped his hands upon the table before him and was still, appearing to be overtaken by some sudden and absorbing train of thought.
After a little the music recommenced, and his soul returned to his eyes with a quick upblazing light. He reached out his hand and touched hers.
“Listen!” he exclaimed imperatively; “you go to learn something now. Pay much notice.”
The violins of the orchestra were pouring forth their hearts in a sweet treble song, whose liquid liaisons flowed high above the background of a dark monotony of single chords. The air was singularly full of feeling, and reached forth its individual pleading to each individual listener.
“You have hear that?” he whispered with a smile.
“Never,” she whispered in return.
“You shall wait a little,” he murmured, resting his chin on his hand and turning his eyes on the lake again; “in a moment you shall hear.”
At that instant the song appeared to terminate, and bass and treble ran together in long, sweeping arpeggios; and then, out over the merry crowd, out over the infinite peace of the Bodensee, there rang and resounded four notes,—E, F, F sharp, G; four notes, the pain, the prayer, the passion of which shrieked to the inmost mysteries of every hearing heart.
Rosina started; her companion turned quickly towards her.