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heart was first compressed, then stopped, and then began to beat like
a hammer. The principal feeling, as in every bad feeling, was pity for
myself. 'Before the children, before the old nurse,' thought I, 'she
dishonors me. I will go away. I can endure it no longer. God knows what
I should do if. . . . But I must go in.'
"The old nurse raised her eyes to mine, as if she understood, and advised
me to keep a sharp watch. 'I must go in,' I said to myself, and, without
knowing what I did, I opened the door. He was sitting at the piano and
making arpeggios with his long, white, curved fingers. She was standing
in the angle of the grand piano, before the open score. She saw or
heard me first, and raised her eyes to mine. Was she stunned, was she
pretending not to be frightened, or was she really not frightened at
all? In any case, she did not tremble, she did not stir. She blushed,
but only a little later.
"'How glad I am that you have come! We have not decided what we will
play Sunday,' said she, in a tone that she would not have had if she had
been alone with me.
"This tone, and the way in which she said 'we' in speaking of herself
and of him, revolted me. I saluted him silently. He shook hands with me
directly, with a smile that seemed to me full of mockery. He explained
to me that he had brought some scores, in order to prepare for the
Sunday concert, and that they were not in accord as to the piece
to choose,--whether difficult, classic things, notably a sonata by
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