"Think it over," returned Mrs. Jack, vaguely. "I'm sure I don't know who is an authority on--what did Tom call it--Chopinitis. But come to me in the morning, anyway; I may have something really practical to suggest. And don't touch him with the whip! Tom's a thoroughbred, you know, my dear. Good-bye!"
As I entered the hall, depressed by a quick reaction from my recent cheerfulness, I was roused from my self-absorption by a revelation that drove the blood to my head and made me dizzy for a moment. From the music-room, always unoccupied at this hour of the day, came the weird, searching harmonies of a Polish fantasia arranged for the piano and violin. The effect was marvelous. Softened by distance, the perfect accord of the two instruments bore testimony to the complete sympathy that existed between the pianist and the wielder of the bow. There was something in this half-barbaric music that set my veins on fire. Hardly knowing what I did and with no thought of what I intended to do, I crossed the drawing-room quickly and noiselessly, and stood motionless at the entrance to the music-room.
I remember now that I felt no sensation of astonishment at what I saw. It seemed to me that the picture before my eyes was just what I had come from a remote distance to gaze upon.
Tom was seated at the piano, his back toward me. Beside him stood Signorina Molatti, her Cremona resting against her shoulder. They had not heard my footsteps, and I realized that if I had yelled like a wild Indian they would not have come to earth. They played like creatures in a trance, and I felt the strange, seductive hypnotism of the mad, sweet, feverish music that they made, as I stood there voiceless, motionless, helpless, hopeless. Vainly I appealed to my pride. Vainly I strove to act as one worthy of the name of mondaine. The shock had been too sudden, too severe, and I could not trust myself.
"They played like creatures in a trance..."
As silently as I had come, I crept away. Recrossing the drawing-room, I encountered the butler in the hall. My face flushed with shame as I said to him:
"If Mr. Remsen asks for me, James, say that I have not returned."
Then I stumbled up-stairs to my rooms, dismissed my maid curtly, and gave way like a foolish girl to foolish tears.
CHAPTER VI.