The spectacles glared at her.
"It hurts me here." She raised a small, dark hand to her chest.
The musician's eyes lighted.
"That is right," he said simply; "ja, that is right—it hurts."
They stood looking at each other in the dim light. The child's eyes studied the big face wistfully.
"I wish you would never play it again."
"Not play my 'Erlkönig!'" He glared at her.
She nodded slowly.
"Never," she said.
He waited a moment, looking at her sternly. He pushed his spectacles far up on the short curls and rubbed his nose vigorously.