"Your career will be ruined by your not turning up to the rehearsals at ten o'clock sharp."
The taunt was still gnawing at George. "And who called me a dilettante, if I may ask?"
"Who did? Good gracious, why it has already been in the papers."
"Really," said George feeling reassured, for he now remembered that after the concert in which Fräulein Bellini had sung his songs a critic had described him as an aristocratic dilettante. George's friends had explained at the time that the reason for this malicious critique was that he had omitted to call on the gentleman in question, who was notoriously vain. So that was it once again. There were always extrinsic reasons for people criticising one unfavourably, and Else's touchiness to-day, what was it at bottom but sheer jealousy....
The table was cleared. They went into the drawing-room.
George went up to Anna, who was leaning on the piano, and said gently to her: "You do look beautiful, dear."
She nodded with satisfaction.
He then went on to ask: "Did you have a pleasant talk with Heinrich? What did you speak about? Therese, isn't that so?"
She did not answer, and George noticed with surprise that her eyelids suddenly drooped and that she began to totter. "What is the matter?" he asked, frightened.
She did not hear him, and would have fallen down if he had not quickly caught hold of her by the wrists. At the same moment Frau Ehrenberg and Else came up to her.