[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Saint-Germain lowered his violin andgave the newcomer an appraising stare.His dark eyes narrowed briefly, then hisbrows raised a fraction as he recognized the man. You will not need that knife,Mister Tree. He had expected many things, but not this lone, elegant man.James shook hishead, his expression becoming more dazed than ever. I& He brought a grimy,bruised hand to his eyes and made a shaky attempt at laughter which did not comeoff.He coughed once, to clear his voice. When I got here, and heard music& Ithought that& I don t know what. As he spoke he reached out to steady himselfagainst the back of one of the three overstuffed chairs in the fine stone room, whichwas chilly in spite of the fire. Excuse me& I m not& myself. Yes, I can see that, Saint-Germain said with gentleness, knowing more surelythan James how unlike himself he was.He stood to put his violin into itsvelvet-lined case, then tucked the loosened bow into its holder before closing the top.This done, he set the case on the occasional table beside his chair and turned toJames. Sit down, Mister Tree.Please. It was definitely a command but one sokindly given that the other man complied at once, dropping gratefully into the chairwhich had been supporting him.The knife clattered to the floor, but neither paidany attention to it. It s been& a while, James said distantly, looking up at the painting over thefireplace.Then his gaze fell on Saint-Germain, and he saw the man properly for thefirst time.Le Comte was casually dressed by his own exacting standards: a black hackingjacket, a white shirt and black sweater under it, and black trousers.There wereblack, ankle-high jodhpur boots on his small feet, the heels and soles unusuallythick.Aside from a silver signet ring, he wore no jewelry. Since you have been here?More than a decade, I would suppose. Yes. James shifted in the chair, his movements those of utter exhaustion. Thisplace& I don t know why. Only now that he had actually arrived at his goal did hewonder what had driven him to seek it out.Indistinct images filtered through hismind, most of them senseless, one or two of them frightening. On Madelaine s behalf, I m pleased to welcome you back.I hope you will stay aslong as you wish to. He said this sincerely, and watched James for his response. Thanks.I don t know what& thanks. In this light, and with the abuses of thelast few days, it was not possible to see how much the last ten years had favoredJames Emmerson Tree.His hair had turned from glossy chestnut to silver withoutloss of abundance; the lines of his face had deepened but had not become lost infretwork or pouches, so that his character was cleanly incised, delineated in strong,sharp lines.Now, with smudges of dirt and dried blood on him, it was not apparentthat while at thirty he had been good looking, at fifty he was superbly handsome.He fingered the tear on his collar where his press tag had been. I thought&Madelaine might have been& Been here? Saint-Germain suggested as he drew one of the other chairs closerto where James sat. I am sorry, Mister Tree.Madelaine is currently in SouthAmerica. Another expedition? James asked, more forlorn than he knew. Of course.It s more circumspect to stay there than go to Greece or Africa justnow, or wouldn t you agree? He spoke slowly, deliberately, and in English for thefirst time. I would rather be assured of her safety than her nearness, Mister Tree. James nodded absently, then seemed at last to understand what Saint-Germainhad said, for he looked up sharply and said in a different voice, God, yes.Oh, God,yes. I had a letter from her not long ago.Perhaps you would care to read it later thisevening? He did not, in fact, want to share the contents of Madelaine s letter withJames; it was too privately loving for any eyes but his, yet he knew that this manloved her with an intensity that was only exceeded by his own. No, James said after a brief hesitation. So long as she s okay, that s all that matters.If anything happened to her, after this, I think I d walk into the path of aGerman tank. His mouth turned up at the corners, quivered, and fell again into theharsh downward curve that had become characteristic in the last month.He lookeddown at his ruined jacket and plucked at one of the frayed tears.Saint-Germain watched this closely, then asked, Has the fighting been verybad? What s very bad? Some days we kill more than they do, and some days they killmore.It sickens me. He turned toward the fire and for a little time said nothing;Saint-Germain respected his silence.Finally James sighed
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]