He looked at her and tried to read her glance, but it remained clear and free. The organ from the church sounded softly and dully.
"Right," said George, "I have brought you the ticket for to-morrow's 'Carmen.'"
"Thanks very much," she answered, and took the card. "Are you going too, dear?"
"Yes, I have a box in the third tier, and I have asked Bermann to come. I am taking the music with me, as I did the other day at Lohengrin, and I shall practise conducting again. At the back, of course. You can have no idea what you learn that way. I should like to make a suggestion," he added hesitatingly. "Won't you come and have supper somewhere with me and Bermann after the theatre?"
She was silent.
He continued: "I should really like it if you got to know him better. With all his faults he is an interesting fellow and...."
"I am not a Rattenmamsell," she interrupted sharply, while her face immediately assumed its stiff conventional expression.
George compressed the corners of his mouth. "That doesn't apply to me, my dear child. There are many points of difference between Guido and me. But as you like." He walked up and down the room.
She remained sitting on the ottoman. "So you are going to Ehrenbergs' this evening?" she asked.
"You know I am. I have already refused twice recently, and I couldn't very well do so this time."