Liszt, who was sitting in the side hall, also noticed this.
He half-reclined in his seat, fingers gently rubbing his gloves, with a slight contemptuous smile on his lips.
In his view, this fellow Arthur Hastings was merely putting on airs.
In the shadows of the side corridor, Flora quietly watched the figure standing in the light.
Her position wasn't close to the front and was even somewhat secluded.
But such a position gave her a unique perspective.
She had never seen Arthur like this.
If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed the calm conductor on the stage, who showed no sign of emotional fluctuation, was the same as the Kensington Palace family tutor, amiable, kind, and sometimes even a bit ambiguous.
Her heart beat a little fast.
The moment Arthur raised the baton, Flora could almost feel the force cutting through the air.
An emotionless elegance, a natural-born authority.
At this moment, it resounded under his command.
