The aged pianist had often listened to her vocalism with enraptured gaze, and she believed he, too, was her slave.
He had now glided into the room and upon the piano stool, and, as if by magic divining her wish, silently opened the piece of music for which she had been hunting.

For the first time their eyes met without any medium, for he had discarded the tinted spectacles he usually wore.
These were not the worn orbs of a man who had pored over crabbed partitions for sixty years.

They were eyes familiar to her.
"Major Von Sendlingen!" she exclaimed, in a kind of terror; for women, being judges of duplicity, are alarmed by any one successful in disguises.
"Precisely, but do not be alarmed.

You struck me in warfare, and I forgive your share in that paltry incident.

I am your friend, now.