Oswald succeeded in checking his emotion. Helen turned to the window, under the pretext that the sudden light was dazzling her eyes, and looked down upon the street, while Sophie explained Franz's absence.
"Then I will not deprive the ladies for another moment of the enjoyment of a friendly chat," said Oswald, bowing to take leave.
"Why, Doctor," said Sophie, gayly, "are you such a foe to friendly chats that your presence must need make an end to them? You ought rather to sit down and do credit to Franz, who calls you the most entertaining companion he knows. Come, Helen, take a seat here by the fire-place. Miss Mal will not cry too bitterly if you stay a little longer."
Oswald had just been about to accept the offered seat; but when he heard that Helen possibly might not stay, he contented himself with a silent bow, to acknowledge Sophie's invitation.
"Thanks, dear Sophie," said Helen, turning round from the window, "but I must really go--another time."
She had apparently regained her usual calmness; only a very acute observer might have noticed in the deeper red of her cheeks the last trace of past emotion, and in her cast-down eyes the desire to conceal the latter from observation.
Oswald, who was looking around for the means to retain Helen a few moments longer, saw the piano open, and music lying upon the desk. He took up the first piece he found; it was Robert Schumann's composition.
"Oh pray, pray, Miss Helen," he said, "if you have a minute to spare, sing this song. It deserves to be sung by you!"
"We have just sung it over," said Sophie; "it is really very fine, and Fräulein von Grenwitz sings it beautifully. Will you sing it, dear Helen?"
If there was a question of music, no one was more eager than Sophie. Taking Helen's consent, therefore, for granted, she had placed the music on the stand, taken her seat on the edge of the piano-stool, as she liked to do, and was looking expectingly at Helen, while she played a few bars of a prelude.