Then his
cold, malignant eyes would wander with an almost sinister expression
over the rapt face of his friend and benefactor, as he leaned over the
piano. But at any movement of the other guests his countenance would
assume its usual amiability of expression, as though a mask were
re-adjusted, while his fat, white hand softly beat time to the music.
At last Lady Constance declared she was tired, and turned to Adrien,
begging him to sing instead. He hesitated for a moment; then, as if
throwing off the unusual moodiness that oppressed him, he seated himself
at the piano; and, after a few moments of restless improvisation, he
sang song after song from Schumann's "Dichter-liebe," with an intensity
of passion in the clear tenor notes that thrilled the soul of every
listener.
In the silence which fell on the little company when the last chords
died away, Jasper Vermont, half-hidden by the curtain, opened the
window, and slipped out on the terrace. The moon shone full on his white
face, distorted with an unaccountable fury, as he muttered through his
clenched teeth: "Curse the fellow! How I hate him!"
CHAPTER X
The morning of the race dawned clear and bright, and the Leroy course
shone like a strip of emerald velvet in the crisp, sparkling air.
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