The pianist, a pale, worn-looking lady, whose black silk dress had an ominously shiny back, which told its tale of poverty, all at once broke down, and her white face touched Sigrid’s heart.
“I think she is faint,” she exclaimed. “Do you think I might offer to play for her?”
“It is a kind thought,” said Mme. Lechertier, and she watched with interest while the pretty Norwegian girl hastened to the piano, and with a few hurried words relieved the pianist, who beat a hasty retreat into the cooler air of the hall.
She played extremely well, and being herself a born dancer, entered into the spirit of the waltz in a way which her predecessor had wholly failed to do. Mme. Lechertier was delighted, and when by and by Sigrid was released she rejoined her, and refused to be borne off to the supper-room by Mr. Horner.
“No, no,” she said; “let the little people be attended to first. Miss Falck and I mean to have a quiet talk here.”
So Sigrid told her something of her life at Bergen, and of the national love of music and dancing, and thoroughly interested her.
“And when do you return?” asked Mme. Lechertier.
“That depends on whether I can find work in England,” replied Sigrid. “What I wish is to stay in London with my brother. He has been very ill, and I do not think he ought to live alone.”
“What sort of work do you wish for?” asked Madame Lechertier.
“I would do anything,” said Sigrid. “But the worst of it is everything is so crowded already, and I have no very special talent.”