"You mentioned it, you must have done so," said Mr. Stanton quickly. "Yes, I remember you did! When you first mentioned his name, you called him Anton. And he is upstairs," added her father with a curious laugh, "in this house."
Hélène thought his manner most strange. He was regarding her now with a curious, searching gaze. "He can have told her nothing," he muttered, "he must be as ignorant of the truth as she is. Good God, what a coincidence!"
Joles came and Ditson was sent for. When the confidential secretary arrived, Mr. Stanton and he went into the private study. Hélène followed them.
"Will you need me any more, father?" she asked anxiously.
"No, no!" replied Mr. Stanton.
Hélène went out and closed the door. As she reached the stairway she heard the key turn in the lock. "Why does he lock himself in?" she thought. When Hélène returned to the music room she found her music master waiting patiently for her.
"Forgive me for keeping you waiting!" she said.
"There is great pleasure even in waiting for those we love; we love to teach, I should say," he added quickly.
Inwardly Hélène found herself contrasting her father with this man. "If only he had the tenderness, the lovable qualities of this old musician," she thought, "how I could love him!" As he was taking his leave, her eye caught the music on top of the cabinet and in a moment she saw it had been disturbed. She looked quickly at Von Barwig, but he gave no sign that he knew of its existence.
"I hope some day to be able to play those compositions for you," she said, pointing to them.