As he knocked at the door of Anna’s sitting-room she came out, dressed for walking.
“Ach, Fräulein! will you allow us the use of your piano for a few minutes?”
“Bitte!” said she, motioning us into the room. “I am sorry I have an engagement, and must leave you.”
“Do not let us keep you on any account,” said he, with touching politeness; and she went out.
“Desto besser!” he observed, shrugging his shoulders.
He pulled off his gloves with rather an impatient gesture, seated himself at the piano, and struck some chords, in an annoyed manner.
“Who is that old lady?” he inquired, looking up at me. “Any relation of yours?”
“No—oh, no! I am her companion.”
“So! And you mean to let her prevent you from following the career you have a talent for?”
“If I do not do as she wishes, I shall have no chance of following any career at all,” said I. “And, besides, how does any one know that I have a talent—for—for—what you say?”