Renée felt inspired. The fact that her adored fiancé was accompanying her, caused her to redouble her efforts, and she far surpassed her extreme powers. Even her teacher, who was very reserved in his compliments, would have been unable to have detected a fault had he been present.
The conversation which had begun in whispers stopped by common consent, and all listened enraptured.
At length the music ceased, and Renée observed the silent approval in the faces of all the guests, but the professor never woke. Villebois got up with the intention of awakening the professor, but Renée seized his arm, and putting her finger to her lips, bade him sit down quietly. All the guests remained sitting in profound silence.
Suddenly Renée walked over to where Delapine was sleeping, and clasped him by the hand. She evidently felt something, for she relinquished his hand and stole softly out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
Riche noticed Renée's departure, and whispered to Céleste, who silently left the room to look for Renée. The guests had been waiting in silence for about a minute when suddenly they heard the organ (which Villebois had erected at the end of the library) pealing out the air of the "Marche Funèbre." First came the prelude, then the solemn tones of death and the mourners and the funeral service, and gradually the Vox Celeste and the Vox Humana pealed forth the triumphant notes "Oh, Death, where is thy sting, oh, Grave, thy victory? For Death is swallowed up in Victory." The guests were entranced. The organ, which had a superb tone, was played as it had never been played before.
"Surely angels must be playing it," said Céleste to Riche, who had tracked her to the library, and found her working the bellows with all her might. But the keys and stops moved of their own accord. At length the air was finished, and the guests who had stood in awe just inside the door of the library returned to the séance. Delapine had just woken up.
"Well," he said to the astonished guests, "I have had such a curious dream. I dreamt that I was in heaven and that I was playing the 'March Funèbre' to a select crowd of angels."
"By Jove," said Marcel, "I would go to heaven to-morrow if I could hear music like that. Why, my dear professor, I never heard such music in my life, and I have heard some pretty good stuff, I assure you. You would make Paderewski weep with mingled envy and rapture. His music one can only compare to a school-girl strumming after yours."
"Oh, please, professor, give us one more piece," said Madame Villebois and Céleste in one breath.