Meanwhile the clouds were gathering thickly over head. Large drops fell, and the wind rushed hoarsely through the trees. Presently a vivid flash clove the darkness, making the whole street light as day, and half blinding our two friends; it was followed by a tremendous crash of thunder, and then the rain came down in torrents.
“Der Teufel!” cried the merchant; “’tis time we were gone! Come, we shall find shelter in the café royal!” And seizing Louis by the arm, he dragged him away. Both ran down the promenade to the café, from the windows of which shone a welcome light. “Never mind,” said Heissenheimer, as they entered, “such a song was worth a drenching. Let us drink the singer’s health.”
It is needless to record all that was said between the friends, on this occasion: the result was an appointment to dine together next day, and meanwhile, Heissenheimer pledged himself to do his utmost to unravel the mystery.
CHAPTER V.
So deeply had the heart of our artist been impressed by the nocturnal music, that he thought no more of Nina, but only of the mysterious songstress. He waited, with the utmost impatience, for the appointed hour next day. His first question, on meeting the merchant, was “Have you discovered the singer?” Heissenheimer put on an important face, and began to talk meaningly of the folly of being too curious, and the wisdom of Providence in concealing some things from us. From all this Louis divined that his friend had penetrated the secret, but was determined not to impart his knowledge.
Heissenheimer began to quote Faust; his friend reminded him of his pledge to disclose what he should find out. “Well, then,” replied the merchant, “you shall guess who she is?”
“I conjure you, keep me no longer in suspense.”
“I may not name her; but this much I will say—you have often seen her; now will you guess?”
“I know not,” replied Louis; “perhaps the Countess, who lodges over the chapel-master?”
“No.”