"You can make a big fool of yourself," observed Coralie, breaking into a laugh and snatching her hands away from him.
"Yes, yes, yes, I should hope so," he cried. "She catches the point! Is there hope? No, she won't make a fool of herself. There's no hope." He sank into a chair with every appearance of dejection.
"I think it's supper-time," she said, moving toward the table. "What are you still playing for?" she called to Struboff.
"Let him play," said I. "Perhaps he would rather play than sup."
"It's very likely," Coralie admitted with, a shrug. Struboff looked at me for a moment, and nodded solemnly. He was playing low now, giving a plaintive turn to the music that had been joyful.
"No, you shall try it once again," cried Wetter, leaping up. "Once again! A verse of it! I'll stand opposite to you. See, like this; and I'll look at you. Now try!"
She was very good-natured with him, and did as he bade her. He took his stand just by her, behind Struboff, and gazed into her face. I could see him; his lips twitched, and his eyes were set on her in an ardour of passion.
"Look in my eyes and sing!" he commanded.
"Ah, you're silly," she murmured in her pleasant lazy drawl. She threw out her chest, and filled the room with healthy tuneful sound.
"Stop!" he cried. "Stop! I can endure no more of it. Can you eat? Yes, you can eat. In God's name, come and eat, dear Coralie."
Coralie appealed to me.
"Don't you think I sing it very well?" she
