"Father gave it to me; to-day is my birthday."
"Your birthday; so?" said Von Barwig, still marking time. "Your birthday?" he repeated.
"Yes, mio maestro; I am nineteen to-day."
"Nineteen! One, two, three; one, two, three," he counted. Then after a pause, "nineteen?"
She looked up, he was still counting and beating time with the lead pencil as a baton. But there was a far-away look in his eyes, as if he were trying to recall something. "Nineteen to-day; nineteen to-day!" he repeated, as if he had not quite realised what she said.
"One, two, three; one, two, three." Was there a break in his voice?
"Nineteen to-day!" Then he looked at her as she played.
"Where were you born?" he asked suddenly.
"In Leipsic," she replied carelessly.
Von Barwig stopped counting, his baton poised in the air.