she cried, impatiently. I offered to join her in this singular amusement, and the result is this comical little carte--which they will talk about, no doubt. Tant mieux, a case of the dog of Alcibiades." Madame von Bismarck looked at the funny little picture, and laughed merrily, but her husband was again lost in gloomy thought.
After a few minutes, during which conversation languished, he raised his head, turned to Herr von Keudell, and said:--
"Will you give us a little music, dear Keudell?"
Keudell seated himself directly at the open piano, which stood on the other side of the drawing-room.
He struck a few chords, and then began to play a kind of prelude, with his wonderfully clear and powerful touch; it progressed irregularly, sometimes by unexpected dissonances, which seemed to accord with the minister's feelings.
Bismarck rose and walked slowly up and down the room, stepping lightly that he might not interrupt the music, nor disturb the impression it made upon him.
Keudell played on and on, sinking ever deeper into the world of sound. Suddenly some powerful chords shook themselves free from all dissonance, and after an easy transition he began to play softly Beethoven's "Sonata in A major."
He had scarcely began the simple yet affecting air, when Bismarck paused, and the expression of his eyes and the smile on his lips showed that Herr von Keudell's choice consoled and solaced him.
He again paced the room during the glorious variations evoked from this simple air by the immense genius of the poet of sound; as their wonderful sound pictures were unrolled, the minister's face expressed a mighty inward struggle. Now he paused for a moment as if undecided, whispering half-spoken words, then again he walked on rapidly, his eyes gazing into an unseen distance, oblivious of everything around him.
Madame von Bismarck watched her husband with uneasy sympathy; she saw his restless, agitated expression, but she did not disturb von Keudell's playing by a word.