"Come with me." Racah followed. The Rajah burst into loud laughter, and going to the piano played the D flat Valse of Chopin in a facile amateurish fashion.
Footsteps were heard; the Rajah stopped and looked up. There was bright frank expectancy in his gaze as he listened.
Then a curtain was thrust aside. Racah staggered in, supported by the attendant. He was white, helpless, fainting, and in his eyes were the shadows of infinite regret.
"Do play some Chopin," exclaimed the Rajah, gaily, as he ran his fingers over the keyboard.
The pianist groaned as the slave plucked at his arms and held them aloft. The Rajah critically viewed the hands from which the fingertips were missing, and then, noting the remorseful anguish in the gaze of the other, he cried:
"Do you know, I really believe you love music despite yourself!"
HUNDING'S WIFE
I