VIII
But the best of eyes would not have counted this time, for he was not
there. He had accepted the offer of a room, where he was giving the day's
specimens certain treatments which he believed, or pretended, could not
wait until he should reach his far downtown cottage. His hostess and his
wife had gone with him, but now some light discussion of house adornment
was drawing them to the parlor. As this room was being lighted I saw our
guest, evidently through force of an early habit, turn a critical glance
to the music on the piano, and as quickly withdraw it. Both of us motioned
her solicitously to the music-stool.
"No, I do not play."
"Then you sing."
"No, not now, any more yet." But when she had let us tease her a wee bit
just for one little German song, she went to the instrument, talking
slowly as she went, and closing the door in the entomologist's direction
as she talked.
"Siss a great vhile I haf not done siss," she concluded, as her fingers
began to drift over the keys, and then she sang, very gently, even
guardedly, but oh, so sweetly!
We were amazed. Here, without the slightest splendor of achievement or
adventure, seemed to be the most incredible piece of real life we had ever
seen.
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