"And that is?"
"That you allow me to listen."
"No, no, that I cannot permit,—I am not far enough advanced,—your ears could not endure my bungling.
"Poor Emil! He does not dream that he owes the delight of listening to you to his uncultivated ear!"
Helene blushed. She had hitherto never mentioned Hollfeld's visits to her brother for reasons that may easily be imagined. Besides, she supposed that they would have been a matter of entire indifference to him, and now it appeared that he really attached importance to them. She seemed to herself to be a detected deceiver, and for a few moments she could not speak. Elizabeth suspected what her sensations were; she too grew confused, and felt her face flush painfully. Just at this moment Herr von Walde turned towards her, his keen, searching glance scanned her countenance, and the gloomy wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows.
"Does Fräulein Ferber improvise during these hours for practice as they are called?" he asked his sister, speaking more quickly than was his wont.
"Oh no," she answered, glad to recover her composure,—"had she done so I should not have spoken of bungling. I admitted Emil because I think that where there is a budding taste for music, it should be encouraged."
Herr von Walde smiled slightly, but it was not the smile which had lately possessed such a peculiar charm for Elizabeth. The dark lines in his brow did not disappear, and his look was gloomy as he still observed Elizabeth keenly.
"You are right, Helene," he said at last, not without a tinge of irony. "But what magnetism there must be in these musical practisings that they have worked such miracles! A very short time ago Emil would much rather have listened to his Diana's baying, than to Beethoven's sonatas."
Helene was silent, and cast down her eyes.