She asked me if I was related to a
white-goods man named Levinsky, and when I said no she passed
to other topics. She led the conversation, and I scarcely followed
her. At one moment, for example, as I looked her in the face,
endeavoring to listen to what she was saying about the Purim ball
she had attended, I remarked to myself that the name
Kalmanovitch somehow seemed to go well with her face and
figure, and that she was too self-possessed for a "bridal
candidate."
Presently we heard Mrs. Nodelman's hoarse voice: "Now Miss
Kalmanovitch will oblige us with some music. Won't you, please,
Miss Kalmanovitch?"
A swarthy, middle-aged woman, with features that somewhat
resembled those of the host, whose cousin she was, and with huge
golden teeth that glistened good-naturedly, took Miss
Kalmanovitch by the arm, saying in a mannish voice: "Come on,
Ray! Show them what you can do!"
My companion rose and, throwing gay glances at some of the other
girls, she walked over to the piano and seated herself. Then, with
some more smiles at the girls, she cold-bloodedly attacked the
keyboard
"A nauctourrn by Chopin," her mother explained to me in an
audible whisper across the room
Miss Kalmanovitch was banging away with an effect of showing
how quickly she could get through the nocturne.
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