The other nodded half grudgingly.
They were both looking toward the player. He swayed a little on the stool, stared at the ceiling a moment, and swung slowly about, blinking uncertainly.
The older man stepped forward, holding out a quick hand.
"Wunderschön!" he said warmly. "What is it? Are there words to it? Can you get it for me?"
The tiny man seemed to shrink a little. He put out his fat hand and waited a moment before he spoke. The full, thick lips groped at the words.
"It is—it is something—of my own," he said at last.
They crowded about him, questioning and delighted.
"Have you published it? What is it?"
"'Der Erlkönig,'" said Schubert shortly. The child's face quivered.
"I know," she said.