"But they do think I am rich. Now I will let you into a secret, and you can let them into it if you like. I am not rich; I am a pauper; and when I die you will find yourself a beggar."
"Aunt Leth will give me a home, father, when it comes to that."
"That's your affection!—taking the idea of my death so coolly. But I am not going to die yet, my girl—not yet, not yet. Why, there was a man who grew to be old, much older than I am, and who was suddenly made young and handsome and well-formed, with any amount of money at his command——"
"Oh, hush, father! These are wicked thoughts. You make me tremble."
"Why do you provoke me, then?" he cried, raising his crutch stick as though he would like to strike her. "You see how I am suffering, and you haven't a spark of feeling in you. Haven't I enough to put up with already, without being irritated by my own flesh and blood? There was such a man, and there's no harm in speaking of him. What was his name? This infernal rheumatism drives everything out of my head. What was his name?"
"Faust."
"You have read about him?"
"Yes; and I went to the theatre and saw the most lovely opera about it. I can play nearly all the music in it."
"You can play, eh? How did you manage that? Who gave you lessons?"
"Aunt Leth. She has a beautiful piano."