Looking at Elise, Leonhard feels more assured, more at home.  She has a kindly face, a lovely face, he decides, and what a deliciously rich, smooth voice!  She is rather after the willowy order in her slender person, and when she begins to sing “Rejoice greatly,” he looks at her astonished, doubting whether the sound can really have proceeded from her slender throat.  He is again reminded of Marion, but by nothing he hears or sees:  poor Marion has her not small reputation as a singer in A——­, yet her voice, compared with this, is as wire—­gold wire indeed—­wire with a color of richness at least; while Elise’s is as honey itself—­honey with the flavor of the sweetest flowers in it, and, too, the suggestion of the bee’s swift, strong wing.

Into the room comes at last Mrs. Loretz.  It is just as Elise takes up the final air of the symphony that she appears.  She would look upon her daughter while she sings, “Come unto Him, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and He shall give you rest.  Take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him,” etc.  Chiefly to look upon her child she comes—­to listen with her loving, confident eyes.

But on the threshold of the music-room she pauses half a second, perceiving the stranger by the window:  then she nods pleasantly to him, which motion sets the short silvery hair on her forehead waving, as curls would have waved there had she only let them.  She wears a cap trimmed with a blue ribbon tied beneath her chin, and such is the order of her comely gown and apron that it commands attention always, like a true work of art.

She sits down beside her husband, and presently, as by the flash of a single glance indeed, has taken the weight and measure of the gentleman opposite.  She likes his appearance, admires his fine dark face and his fine dark eyes, wonders where he came from, what he wants, and—­will he stay to tea?

Gazing at her daughter, she looks a little sad:  then she smooths her dress, straightens herself, shakes her head, and is absorbed in the music, beating time with tiny foot and hand, and following every strain with an intentness which draws her brows together into a slight frown.  Elise almost smiles as she glances toward her mother:  she knows where to find enthusiasm at a white heat when it is wanted.  With the final repetition, “Ye shall find rest to your souls,” the dame rises quickly, and hastening to her daughter embraces her; then passing to the next room, she pauses, perhaps long enough to wipe her eyes; then the jingle of a bell is heard.

At the ringing of this bell, Sister Benigna rose instantly, saying, “Welcome sound!” Loretz also came forth from his corner.  He was about to speak to Leonhard, when Benigna took up the trombone which was lying on the piano, and said, “I am curious to know how many rehearsals you have had, sir.  It is time, Elise, that our trombonist reported.”

Loretz, casting an eye toward his daughter, said, “Never mind Sister Benigna.  Our quartette will be all right.”  Then he turned to Leonhard:  it was not now that he felt for the first time the relief of the stranger’s presence.  “We are going to take food,” said he:  “will you give me your name and come with us?”