"My Emusia," replied Madame Wtorkowska, "is all simplicity, all candour, although sometimes her very simplicity and frankness look like coquetry."
At this reply from the mother, her two guests exchanged glances behind her back.
"Why, she has taken Jacob by storm," cried his former guardian to Mann. "This Muse outdoes herself on his account. She did not trouble herself to amuse him before he got his fortune. It was not worth while to notice the poor beggar for whose education I paid."
"The Berlin banker's legacy has made him a desirable match. She will finish by capturing him," said Mann.
"I don't believe it, for I know my Jacob. He is not at ease in her society. You cannot catch all fish with the same hook. My son-in-law, Henri, would have taken the bait immediately. Jacob is afraid of her. He likes quiet women who are modest and timid. He is a poet."
"Certainly the creature is far from that, and I congratulate the man who"--
Mann did not finish his remark, for suddenly the music ceased. Jacob was free from the chains of courtesy. He seated himself near Mathilde, who received him with a smile.
The pale moonlight streamed in from the windows which opened on the veranda, and the light was softened by the leaves of the wild vines, which, with their long serpentine clusters, climbed over everything.
They both wished to fly from this crowd, both wished to be alone; but to put this project into execution was not easy.
Again Muse played, and under her skilful fingers the notes wept, groaned, sang, murmured, and sighed. It was Liszt's music. Every one was enchanted.