One of the six wise men who accompanied her—a pale, sandy-haired, studious-looking man, with long, vibrant hands, kept his eyes constantly upon her as she sang, with a curious dreamy expression of surprise and admiration. This man was a marvellous accompanist. He seemed to have understood Sue instantly, as quickly as he had memorized her accompaniments, scarcely glancing at her music before him. He steadied her from the first; made her sure of herself. When Lamont had played for her it had been a far different feeling. Light and inconsequent as was his nature, he had expressed its shallowness on the piano. Enoch’s words flashed back to her. The man at the piano, who was no other than the violinist Ivan Palowsky, had made her feel. It was as if he had taken her firmly by the hand and led her through an ordeal over whose coming she had worked and suffered for days, and which, now that it was successfully over, made her eyes sparkle and her heart light with sheer joy. She thanked him warmly as she left the stage.
“It is I who thank you,” said he, hesitated, and with a look that Sue did not forget, added: “You sing like my little girl, Anna. It is now this year that I go back to Russia to see her. Ah! yes, you made me feel that I again hear her sing—so young, so sweet, so pure. Some day you let me play for you again, eh? Yes—yes, I come.” His sad face brightened, and with an awkward bow he turned away to join his companions in the final number. They had genially condescended to close the performance with a gay tarantella.
Sue was now the centre of admiration. They showered her with compliments. Lamont, who had skilfully gotten rid of Mrs. Selwyn-Rivers and her kennel of prize breeds, was again beside her, pleading to take her home. He called her “his little playmate,” ran off for a glass of champagne which she barely touched, and an ice which she devoured.
Sue had been showered with so many compliments this exciting evening that one more did not matter. This came from Joe, who made his way through the group about her, and thanked her heartily in his breezy way.
Sue looked up in his genial, boyish face for the second time, conscious of how good-looking he was, and how frankly and sincerely he expressed himself. Joe’s was a pleasant, healthy countenance for any young girl to look upon. His eyes twinkled to-night in his exuberance, and his big, strong hand grasped hers with boyish sincerity. In fact, he brought with him to that overheated artificial ball-room, a breath of wholesome air.
Lamont continued in opportune moments to insist on taking her home, half turning his back on Joe, who had interrupted him just as he felt that his persuasion had succeeded.
“Mr. Lamont, I can’t,” declared Sue firmly. “I’ve promised Mrs. Van Cortlandt.” Something in his manner worried her. Something she did not like, and which might have been traced to Sam Van Cortlandt’s vintage brut.
“Oh! come along,” exclaimed Lamont finally, his eyes sparkling like black diamonds.
Joe took his leave. “Good night, and thank you again,” he said heartily. “Hope I’ll see you soon,” he laughed. “You know we share the same stairs,” and with that he was gone. At that instant, too, a quiet personage touched Sue lightly on the arm.
It was Enoch.