John, who was a man of the world as well as a man of talent, thought she
was capricious, and since he was infinitely removed from falling in love
with her, or indeed with any other woman, he found it agreeable to talk to
her when she was in a good humor, and when she was ungracious he merely
kept out of her way. If he had deliberately made up his mind to attract
her attention and interest, he could have chosen no surer way than this.
But although he admired her beauty and vivacity, and now and then took a
real pleasure in her conversation, his mind was too full of other matters
to receive any lasting impression of such a kind. Besides, she was
capricious, and he hated mere caprice.
And now there was a hush in the house, and then a short burst of applause,
and Josephine, looking down, saw John standing alone upon the platform in
front of the great bronze statue of Beethoven. He looked exactly as he did
when she met him in society; there was no change in the even color of his
face, nor any awkwardness or self-consciousness in his easy attitude as he
stood there, broad-shouldered and square, his strong hand just resting on
the plain desk that had been placed in the middle of the stage.
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