She bent her head over her instrument, and began playing. She forgot the outward world, her whole attention was concentrated on her violin as her slender and nervous fingers guided the bow or pressed the strings.
It was a sweet soft tune—like her voice—her face wore a tender expression. Then the music swelled, became louder and louder till it reached its climax; the bow bounded over the strings, the fingers of the left hand rose and fell in quick succession, her expression was now animated, her face aglow.
Frank was sitting with his eyes fixed upon the fair musician. He had never imagined that an instrument could be made to express such feelings.
He noticed that Adèle would have to turn a leaf. He could read music, so he rose, scanned the music, was soon on the track, and turned the leaf in due time.
Adèle finished playing soon after.
Her face was slightly flushed and triumphant.
Frank congratulated her warmly in a select speech which he finished thus: "In short, your playing seems to have as much power over my feelings as Timotheus' had over Alexander's."
The farmer's face was ominous. He had begun to entertain suspicions when Adèle had looked at him reproachfully before tea-time. Now his imagination had ripened into certainty—so he thought. The young people must be for ever separated. He said roughly: "There are other things which are more important than fiddling, one of them is to know how to live."
Frank looked at Adèle, she looked back at him. Their astonishment was diverting to witness.
Quoth the farmer gruffly to Frank, "I am going to retire, I think you had better do the same."