"To have a look at your eyes."
"What have my eyes to do with you?"
Reinhard's glance flashed down on her. "I know they are false."
She laid her cheek in the palm of her hand and gave him a searching look. Reinhard raised his glass to his mouth.
"Here's to your beautiful, wicked eyes!" he said, and drank.
She laughed and tossed her head.
"Give it here," she said, and fastening her black eyes on his, she slowly drank what was left in the glass. Then she struck a chord and sang in a deep, passionate voice:
To-day, to-day thou think'st me
Fairest maid of all;
To-morrow, ah! then beauty
Fadeth past recall.
While the hour remaineth,
Thou art yet mine own;
Then when death shall claim me,
I must die alone.
While the fiddler struck up an allegro finale, a new arrival joined the group.
"I went to call for you, Reinhard," he said, "You had already gone out, but Santa Claus had paid you a visit."