Sonia took her mother's hand. "Do you know," she said, "to-night it is
stewed carrots and nut tart for supper. Suppose we go in and take our
places," her sidelong, tragic stare accusing the Professor and me the
while.

I followed them across the lawn and up the steps. Frau Godowska was
murmuring, "Such a wonderful, beloved man"; with her disengaged hand
Fraulein Sonia was arranging the sweet pea "garniture."

...

"A concert for the benefit of afflicted Catholic infants will take place in
the salon at eight-thirty P.M. Artists: Fraulein Sonia Godowska, from
Vienna; Herr Professor Windberg and his trombone; Frau Oberlehrer Weidel,
and others."

This notice was tied round the neck of the melancholy stag's head in the
dining-room. It graced him like a red and white dinner bib for days before
the event, causing the Herr Professor to bow before it and say "good
appetite" until we sickened of his pleasantry and left the smiling to be
done by the waiter, who was paid to be pleasing to the guests.

On the appointed day the married ladies sailed about the pension dressed
like upholstered chairs, and the unmarried ladies like draped muslin
dressing-table covers. Frau Godowska pinned a rose in the centre of her
reticule; another blossom was tucked in the mazy folds of a white
antimacassar thrown across her breast. The gentlemen wore black coats,
white silk ties and ferny buttonholes tickling the chin.