"I thought so. Scarcely compatible, though, with profound originality in creation. You have probably taken lessons in composition?"
"For the last three years."
Flora clasped her hands and came back into the music-room. "Your Lukas"—she always called the former governess thus by her maiden name—"must be insane, to throw money away in that fashion."
It was very quiet in the adjoining drawing-room. The three old gentlemen by the fire, and the lady who had been speaking with the doctor, had just seated themselves at a card-table; Doctor Bruck was talking in a low tone to Henriette; and Fräulein von Giese paused for a moment to listen; every one in the drawing-room could hear this tolerably loud conversation.
Henriette sprang up and came into the music-room. "You can play, Kitty," she said, surprised, "and have never touched the keys since you came?"
"The piano is so near to Flora's study, I could not presume to interrupt her work by my playing," the young girl answered, naturally and simply. "I have longed—I do not deny that my fingers have fairly burned to try this instrument, for it is magnificent, and my cottage piano in Dresden is not worth much. It was not new when we bought it, five years ago. My Frau Doctor wished to ask for a new one long ago, but I opposed it. I did not wish you to estimate my musical powers by such a demand. But after my glimpse of a certain safe to-day, I am wonderfully bold: I want just such an instrument as this."
"It costs a thousand thalers!—a thousand thalers for a girl's whim. It requires consideration, Kitty."
"Who in this house plays upon your instrument?" she now asked, in a hard tone, with flashing eyes. She was evidently deeply wounded. "To whose quiet enjoyment does it minister? It is here only for your guests. Must money never be spent except to make a show?"
The councillor approached her and took her hand; he had never before seen the girlish face go informed with energy and self-assertion. "Do not agitate yourself, my dear child," he said, gently. "Have I ever been a hard or grudging guardian to you? Go play us something to prove that music is really dear to your heart,—I ask nothing more,—and you shall have any instrument you desire."
"I do not like to play, after what has passed," she said, frankly, as she withdrew her hand from his. "I do not wish to buy my piano by playing for it; and who can tell what can convince you that my music is dear to my heart? But I will get my notes, for I detest being urged to play."