Von Barwig followed Hélène through the corridors that led to the library. She paused a moment as she stood at the door and looked around at Von Barwig. There was a stern, cold, hard look in his face which was new to her. "He feels the injustice as I do," thought Hélène, "and he is angry. Thank God, he will be able to clear himself!" She turned the handle of the door and went in. Von Barwig followed her. Stanton was sitting at a desk table, writing, as they entered.
"There has been a mistake, father," she said.
Stanton looked up and started as if he had been struck. He saw his daughter, and he saw the man he had wronged standing there in the doorway like an avenging Nemesis. He tried to speak, but could not.
"What's the matter, father?" cried Hélène in alarm.
"Nothing—nothing!" replied Stanton incoherently. He was trembling in every limb.
"Hélène," he said, forcing himself to speak, "I will have a word with Herr Von Barwig alone."
"I beg your pardon for coming in unannounced, but we wanted to see you, father," began Hélène.
"Yes, yes; please excuse us now, Hélène. I'll see him alone," said Stanton, speaking with great difficulty. "Alone!" he repeated sharply.
Hélène turned and looked at Von Barwig. He stood there in silence, his slight figure seeming to tower above everything in the room. Even Stanton, tall as he was, seemed dwarfed by the strong personality of the music master. At this moment Joles made his appearance. "A number of ladies have arrived, miss," he said to Hélène, his quick eye catching sight of Von Barwig without looking at him. "They are in the reception-room."
"I must go at once," said Hélène. "I forgot all about my birthday reception."