But still he waited, crouched.
It was a second before he recognized Harmony, another instant
before he realized his good fortune. She had almost passed. He
put out an unsteady hand.
"Fraulein!"
"Herr Georgiev!"
The little Bulgarian was profoundly stirred. His fervid eyes
gleamed. He struggled against the barrier of language, broke out
in passionate Bulgar, switched to German punctuated with an
English word here and there. Made intelligible, it was that he
had found her at last. Harmony held her spools of thread and
waited for the storm of languages to subside. Then:--
"But you are not to say you have seen me, Herr Georgiev."
"No?"
Harmony colored.
"I am--am hiding," she explained. "Something very uncomfortable
happened and I came here. Please don't say you have seen me."
Georgiev was puzzled at first. She had to explain very slowly,
with his ardent eyes on her. But he understood at last and agreed
of course. His incredulity was turning to certainty. Harmony had
actually been in the same building with him while he sought her
everywhere else.
"Then," he said at last, "it was you who played Sunday."
"I surely."
She made a move to pass him, but he held out an imploring hand.
"Fraulein, I may see you sometimes?"
"We shall meet again, of course."
"Fraulein,--with all respect,--sometime perhaps you will walk out
with me?"
"I am very busy all day."
"At night, then? For the exercise? I, with all respect,
Fraulein!"
Harmony was touched.
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