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"We want you to play. There is a lady here who heard you in Paris quite recently she admires you immensely. Won't you come and be introduced to her?" Herr Machtenklinken paused, and a smile softened his hitherto angry countenance. "You are fery goot, Mr. Lofelace," he remarked "and I would do moch for you but her ladyshib understands me not she has offend me it is better I should take my leave."
They were all near the grand piano and Lady Clara, smoothing her vexed brow, swept her ruby velvets gracefully up to that quarter of the room. Before she could speak, the celebrated Herr Machtenklinken confronted her with some sternness. "Your ladyshib vill do me ze kindness to remember," he said, loftily, "zat I am here to blay!
"Yes, yes, I quite understand!" he says, nodding persuasively at the excited genius. "You are here to play. Exactly! Yes, yes! We shall all have the pleasure of hearing you presently. Delightful, I'm sure! You are the celebrated Herr ?" "Machtenklinken," adds the pianist haughtily. "Ze celebrated Machtenklinken!" "Yes oh er, yes!" And Mr. Marvelle grapples desperately with this terrible name.
"I shouldn't wonder," he went on meditating gravely, "if she doesn't try and make some mischief somehow. She looks it." At that moment Thelma ceased singing, and the room rang with applause. Herr Machtenklinken was overcome with admiration. "It is a voice of heaven!" he said in a rapture. The fair singer was surrounded with people. "I hope," said Mrs.
"We want to hear some music," he said, with the utmost coolness. "Conversation can be continued afterwards." He then nodded cheerfully towards Herr Machtenklinken, who, inspired by this open encouragement, started off like a race-horse into one of the exquisite rambling preludes of Chopin.
"If you are so indifferent to your advantages then all I can say is, so am I! You are, perhaps, known on the Continent, Herr Machtenklinken, but not here and I think you ought to be more grateful for my influence." So saying, she passed on, leaving the luckless pianist in a state of the greatest indignation. "Gott in Himmel!" he gasped, in a sort of infuriated sotto voce.
The hum of conversation grew louder than ever and to Thelma's surprise Lady Winsleigh seated herself by her and began to converse. Herr Machtenklinken struck another chord, in vain! The deafening clamor of tongues continued, and Lady Winsleigh asked Thelma with much seeming interest if the scenery was very romantic in Norway? The girl colored deeply, and after a little hesitation, said
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