"That's just what—my—my father said." She was watching him closely now. The expression on Von Barwig's face was unchanged.
"Your father is—right," he said finally.
"I told him to-day after the service," said Hélène, "that we were going to Leipsic, and he tried to make me promise not to go. When I refused, he forbade me to go, but he can't forbid me any more; he is beginning to understand that for the first time to-day." She spoke now with a deep-rooted sense of injury Von Barwig could only nod. He knew now that she had made some discovery.
"It's so easy to deceive a child," continued Hélène in a voice that must have betrayed the great depth of her feelings. "A child believes everything you tell it. It will grow up on lies, but when that child is older and a woman, then the truth comes out! Herr Von Barwig, the truth comes out!" She looked him full in the face, but still there was no sign.
"What truth?" faltered the old man. He realised now that she knew; but exactly what did she know?
"You ask me that?" she said sadly. "You, my—my—old music master!"
"A music master who taught you nothing," he said evasively.
"Shall I go to Leipsic?" asked Hélène.
The old man shook his head. "No!" he articulated faintly.
"Why not?" demanded Hélène. There was no reply. "And you won't tell me why?"