"I can be ready as soon as you like," she answered bravely, "but before we start you must give me time to reward Herr Schuncke for his kindness to us."
A few moments later our host entered the room. I was about to pay for our meal, when Valerie stopped me.
"You must do nothing of the kind," she said; "remember, you are my guest. Surely you would not deprive me of one of the greatest pleasures I have had for a long time?"
"You shall pay with all my heart," I answered, "but not with Pharos' money."
"I never thought of that," she replied, and her beautiful face flushed crimson. "No, no, you are quite right. I could not entertain you with his money. But what am I to do? I have no other."
"In that case you must permit me to be your banker," I answered, and with that I pulled from my pocket a handful of German coins.
Herr Schuncke at first refused to take anything, but when Valerie declared that if he did not do so she would not play to him, he reluctantly consented, vowing at the same time that he would not accept it himself, but would bestow it upon Ludwig. Then Valerie went to the violin-case, which I had placed upon a side table, and taking her precious instrument from it—the only legacy she had received from her father—tuned it, and stood up to play. As Valerie informed me later, the old man, though one would scarcely have imagined it from his commonplace exterior, was a passionate devotee of the beautiful art, and now he stood, leaning against the wall, his fat hands clasped before him, and his upturned face expressive of the most celestial enjoyment. Nor had Valerie, to my thinking, ever done herself greater justice. She had escaped from a life of misery that had been to her a living death, and her whole being was in consequence radiant with happiness; this was reflected in her playing. Nor was the effect she produced limited to Herr Schuncke. Under the influence of her music I found myself building castles in the air, and upon such firm foundations, too, that for the moment it seemed no wind would ever be strong enough to blow them down. When she ceased I woke as from a happy dream; Schuncke uttered a long sigh, as much as to say, "It will be many years before I shall hear anything like that again," and then it was time to go. The landlord accompanied us into the street and called a cab. As it pulled up beside the pavement a cripple passed, making his way slowly along with the assistance of a pair of crutches. Valerie stopped him.
"My poor fellow," she said, handing him the purse containing the money with which, ten minutes before, she had thought of paying for our dinner, "there is a little present which I hope may bring you more happiness than it has done me. Take it."
The man did so, scarcely able to contain his surprise, and when he had examined the contents burst into a flood of thanks.
"Hush," she said, "you must not thank me. You do not know what you are saying." Then turning to Schuncke, she held out her hand. "Good-bye," she said, "and thank you for your kindness. I know that you will say nothing about having seen us."