They were received in the hall by two girls. “Good evening, little doves,” said the lieutenant, and kissed them both on the lips. “Let me introduce you to my learned brother; he’s very young and innocent, not at all like me; what do you say, Jossa?”
The girls looked shyly at Theodore, who did not know which way to turn. His brother’s language appeared to him unutterably impudent.
On their way upstairs they met a dark-haired little girl, who had evidently been crying; she looked quiet and modest and made a good impression on Theodore.
The lieutenant did not kiss her, but he pulled out his handkerchief and dried her eyes. Then he ordered an extravagant supper.
They were in a bright and pretty room, hung with mirrors and containing a piano, a perfect room for banquetting. The lieutenant opened the piano with his sword, and before Theodore knew where he was, he was sitting on the music-stool, and his hands were resting on the keyboard.
“Play us a waltz,” commanded the lieutenant, and Theodore played a waltz. The lieutenant took off his sword and danced with Jossa; Theodore heard his spurs knocking against the legs of the chairs and tables. Then he threw himself on the sofa and shouted:
“Come here, ye slaves, and fan me!”
Theodore began to play softly and presently he was absorbed in the music of Gounod’s Faust. He did not dare to turn round.
“Go and kiss him,” whispered the brother.
But the girls felt shy. They were almost afraid of him and his melancholy music.