Her dark, troubled eyes looked into his. They were not laughing now.
"Nay, father," she said gently, "it is you who will wait outside—while we say farewell."
The count regarded her for a long moment, then he turned toward the young musician, his face full of compassion and a kind of envy.
"My friend," he said slowly, "for five minutes I shall leave her with you. You will go away—forever."
Schubert bowed proudly. His eyes were on the girl's face.
As the door closed, she turned to him, holding out her hands.
He took them in his, and they stood silent, looking into each other's eyes.
She drew a long breath.
"What do people say when they are dying?" she asked.
"Nein, I know not." His voice trembled.