Here the waiting maid entered hastily, and not without alarm, announced the minister’s approach.
“Recollect yourself!” whispered Natalie, as she disengaged herself from the arms of her lover.
The minister cried in a cordial tone as he entered—“Ha! Monsieur Bach, here still? I am delighted to see you again. Well, ma chére nièce!” turning to the blushing girl, “how goes it? Is all arranged for the concert—and will it suit?”
“I hope so, most gracious uncle!”
“That is charming, my love; my wife will be enchanted with this kind attention. You, my dear Monsieur Bach, will certainly arrange all for the best, of that I am assured. Come very often to my house! understand—very often! I place the highest value upon you and your talents.”
The young man thanked him, somewhat bewildered, and took his leave.
“A strong head, and great, great talent,” observed the minister, looking after him, while he took a pinch from his jewelled snuff-box. He said more in his praise, then passed to indifferent subjects, and at length retired from the apartment, after having pressed his lips to the white forehead of his niece, who dutifully kissed his hand.
As Friedemann left the palace, the page rushed hastily from round a corner to him, and asked—“Whither?”
“Home!”
“Not there. Come with me instantly to Faustina’s.”