"You, who are so great a connoisseur, what do you think of Emusia's playing?"
"It is truly marvellous, madame."
"Liszt, the master, was stupefied with astonishment when my daughter played for him his overture to Guillaume Otello. He watched her execute this, that, all the most difficult parts, and was wild with enthusiasm. It was at Spa. There was such clapping of hands, bravos that almost shook the house, an avalanche of bouquets! What an ovation, mon Dieu!"
"It was merited, no doubt."
"Oh, yes," said the mother. "An Erard piano fairly spoke under her fingers. She has such strength and incredible power."
She was thus extolling her daughter when the young lady herself came to join in the conversation. Her eyes shone wrathfully. The more invulnerable Jacob showed himself, the more she was determined to bring him to her feet. Henri had given her the key to the character of this man, whom he called a religious fanatic. She resolved to read and study the Bible, and even the Talmud, if necessary. Already she commenced to play her new rôle.
"I detest these noisy pleasures," said she. "Reading, meditation, quiet, they are the things that I love. And you?"
"I also love study and tranquillity," said Jacob.
"You men," said Muse, "have everything in your favour. You can, at your pleasure, devote yourselves to intellectual occupations; you are not slaves to the obligations of society, as we poor women are. You cannot imagine what a humiliation it is for a young girl to be taken continually here and there, and shown like merchandise."
"Mademoiselle, although what you say is partly true, I assure you that the mothers and daughters exaggerate these pretended obligations. Our poet, Krasicki, has said somewhere, 'Nothing ever comes of a dialogue prepared with too much care.'"