ike Judas--if it's allowable to mention him." Even in Hans's
sorrowful moments, his improvised words had inevitably some drollery.

But Mirah's anger was not appeased: how could it be? She had burst into
indignant speech as creatures in intense pain bite and make their teeth
meet even through their own flesh, by way of making their agony
bearable. She said no more, but, seating herself at the piano, pressed
the sheet of music before her, as if she thought of beginning to play
again.

It was Mab who spoke, while Mrs. Meyrick's face seemed to reflect some
of Hans' discomfort.

"Mirah is quite right to scold you, Hans. You are always taking Mr.
Deronda's name in vain. And it is horrible, joking in that way about
his marrying Mrs. Grandcourt. Men's minds must be very black, I think,"
ended Mab, with much scorn.

"Quite true, my dear," said Hans, in a low tone, rising and turning on
his heel to walk toward the back window.

"We had better go on, Mab; you have not given your full time to the
lesson," said Mirah, in a higher tone than usual. "Will you sing this
again, or shall I sing it to you?"

"Oh, please sing it to me," said Mab, rejoiced to take no more notice
of what had happened.

And Mirah immediately sang _Lascia ch'io pianga_, giving forth its
melodious sobs and cries with new fullness and energy. Hans paused in
his walk and leaned against the mantel-piece, keeping his eyes
carefully away from his mother's. When Mirah had sung her last note and
touched the last chord, she rose and said, "I must go home now. Ezra
expects me."

She gave her hand silently to Mrs. Meyrick and hung back a little, not
daring to look at her, instead of kissing her, as usual. But the little
mother drew Mirah's face down to hers, and said, soothingly, "God bless
you, my dear." Mirah felt that she had committed an offense against
Mrs. Meyrick by angrily rebuking Hans, and mixed with the rest of her
suffering was the sense that she had shown something like a proud
ingratitude, an unbecoming assertion of superiority. And her friend had
divined this compunction.

Meanwhile Hans had seized his wide-awake, and was ready to open the
door.

"Now, Hans," said Mab, with what was really a sister's tenderness
cunningly disguised, "you are not going to walk home with Mirah. I am
sure she would rather not. You are so dreadfully disagreeable to-day."

"I shall go to take care of her, if she does not forbid me," said Hans,
opening the door.