"Yes, I should think so. I wonder what you generally talk about."
"Never yet of anything but music."
"That is strange, because the Chevalier does not usually talk so,—but of little things, common things he makes so bright; and Franz tells me, and so did another of our boys, that he only talks of such small affairs generally, and avoids music."
"So I hear from my brother. He talks to Josephine about her doll. He did tell me once that with me alone he 'communed music.'"
"Again his words!"
She assented by her flying smile.
"He never plays to you, then?"
"Never to myself; but then, you see, I should never ask him."
"And he would not do it unless he were asked. I understand that. You feel as I should about asking you."
"Me to sing?" she inquired in a tone beguiling, lingering, an echo of his voice ever sleepless in my brain, or that if sleeping, ever awoke to music. I nodded.