"Oh, in Berlin?" hazarded George.
"No."
"I thought perhaps in connection with a new piece——"
"I haven't written a new piece," interrupted Heinrich somewhat rudely. "I was in the Taunus and on the Rhine in several places."
"What's he got to do on the Rhine?" thought George, although the topic did not interest him any further. It struck him that Bermann was looking in front of him in a manner that was not only absent-minded but really almost melancholy.
"And how's your work getting on, my dear Baron?" asked Heinrich with sudden animation, while he drew closer round him the dark grey overcoat which hung over his shoulders.[1] "Have you finished your quintette?"
"My quintette?" repeated George in astonishment. "Have I spoken to you about my quintette, then?"
"No, not you, but Fräulein Else told me that you were working at a quintette."
"I see, Fräulein Else. No, I haven't got much further with it. I didn't feel quite in the mood, as you can imagine."
"Quite," said Heinrich, and was silent for a while. "And your father was still so young," he added slowly.