The evening, like the afternoon, was spent in the sitting-room with one of the sisters. One event alone is worth recording. I had become excessively tired of a conversation that always languished, no matter on what topic it started, and, observing an old piano in one corner -- I once played very well -- I sat down before it and impulsively struck a few chords from the yellow keys. Instantly Lucetta -- it was Lucetta who was with me then -- bounded to my side with a look of horror.
"Don't do that!" she cried, laying her hand on mine to stop me. Then, seeing my look of dignified astonishment, she added with an appealing smile, "I beg pardon, but every sound goes through me to-night."
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