Cordt stood on the threshold and waited, but then closed the door and went to the fire.
He was in dress-clothes and tired and pale and his eyes were bright with wine. When he had been sitting for a little while, it grew too warm for him and he drew his chair to the balcony-door. There he sat and let his hands play with the red flowers.
Fru Adelheid did not see him when she entered.
She moved slowly and stopped in the middle of the room, when she discovered that he was not by the fireplace. She was surprised at this, but soon forgot it, in her gayety and her lingering excitement at the evening’s entertainment, with her mind full of bright and clever phrases and the lights gleaming in her great eyes.
She sat down to the spinet and laid her forehead against the keys. Something was singing inside her; her foot softly beat the carpet.
Then she sought among the music and sang:
Lenore, my heart is wrung.
Thine is so dauntless, thine is so young.
Tell me, Lenore, the truth confessing
(Which never were mine by guessing):