Following this was a long and minute description of the instrument. The advertisement was signed by Louis Levigne, Breslau, Silesia.
Cambia read and reread this notice with pale face and gave herself to reflection. She threw off the weight of the old troubles which had swarmed over her again and prepared for action. Three hours later she was on her way to Berlin; the next day found her in Breslau. A few moments later and she was entering the house of the advertiser.
In a dark, old-fashioned living-room, a slender, gray-haired man came forward rather cautiously to meet her. She knew his face despite the changes of nearly thirty years; he was the only brother of her husband and one of her chief persecutors in those unhappy days. It was not strange that in this tall, queenlike woman, trained to face great audiences without embarrassment, he should fail to recognize the shy and lonely little American who had invaded the family circle. He bowed, unconsciously feeling the influence of her fine presence and commanding eyes.
"You, I suppose, are Louis Levigne, who advertised recently for information of Gaspard Levigne?" she said.
"Yes, madame; my brother was the unfortunate Gaspard. We think him dead. Know you anything of him?"
"I knew him years ago; I was then a singer and he was my accompanist. Recently he died." The face of the man lighted up with a strange gleam. She regarded him curiously and continued: "Died poor and friendless."
"Ah, indeed! He should have communicated with us; he was not poor and would not have been friendless."
"What do you mean?"
"You know, madame, the new age is progressive. Some lands we had in northern Silesia, worthless for 200 years, have developed iron and a company has purchased." The woman smiled sadly.
"Too late," she said, "for poor Gaspard. This is why you have advertised?"