He smiled as he leaned back, as if thinking over past scenes.
“Yes,” said I, dubiously, “I don’t think I care much for such things, though it is interesting to watch the little drama going on around.”
“And to act in it,” I also thought, remembering Anna Sartorius and her whisper, and I looked at him. “Not honest, not honorable. Hiding from shame and disgrace.”
I looked at him and did not believe it. For the moment the torturing idea left me. I was free from it and at peace.
“Were you going to practice?” he asked. “I fear I disturb you.”
“Oh, no! It does not matter in the least. I shall not practice now.”
“I want to try some other things,” said he, “and Friedhelm’s and my piano was not loud enough for me, nor was there sufficient space between our walls for the sounds of a symphony. Do you not know the mood?”
“Yes.”
“But I am afraid to ask you to accompany me.”
“Why?”