Dan said, "What's the joke?" And Mr. Vickers replied that it wasn't a joke.
In the drawing-room Mamma said, "I won't have any of those asides between you and Mr. Vickers, do you hear?"
Mary thought that so funny that she laughed. She knew what Mamma was thinking, but she was too happy to care. Her intelligence had found its mate.
You played, and at the first sound of the piano he came in and stood by you and listened.
You had only to play and you could make him come to you. He would get up and leave Dan in the smoking-room; he would leave Mamma in the garden. When you played the soft Schubert Impromptu he would sit near you, very quiet; when you played the Appassionata he would get up and stand close beside you. When you played the loud, joyful Chopin Polonaise he would walk up and down; up and down the room.
Saturday evening. Sunday evening. (He was going on Monday very early.)
He sang,
"'Es ist bestimmt in Gottes Rath
Das man vom liebsten was man hat
Muss scheiden.'"
Dan called out from his corner, "Translate. Let's know what it's all about."
He pounded out the accompaniment louder. "We won't, will we?" He jumped up suddenly. "Play the Appassionata."