faced me full in the light, a woman with green eyes and red hair that moved lightly on her head when she moved to parry and strike. Her breasts were sharp and steady beneath her raised arm and a blue flared skirt whirled round her knees in time with the whirling sabres. The woman looked dear to me and yet remote in the white air, like a lost thing found under water.
The sabres must have clashed thirty times in unbroken sequence but the play went on. They stood bareheaded under the flashing blows as if they trusted each other utterly. The woman’s face looked dazzled and serene and Peter’s body moved like a dancer’s in love.
The woman stepped back and lowered her sabre and Peter laid his weapon on the floor and stepped towards her. She came into his arms and I saw his face go down to hers. She dropped her sabre and her hand came round to the nape of his neck. Her knee pressed forward between his legs and they stood there swaying in passion.
Alec took away his shoulder and my heels came down hard on the ground. I felt disemboweled and stuffed with kapok. A goblin monotone in the howling wilderness of my brain began to recite brisk little rhymes about what a four-letter day it was for me, and repeated them like a cracked record. Phut shut blut slut rut gut mut.
Alec had pulled himself up to the window and I chinned myself beside him on the wide sill. The kiss was still going on, far beyond the Hays office maximum. A charming scene. A charming couple, Peter Schneider and Ruth Esch. I couldn’t see too much of them.
Dr. Schneider made a sudden appearance in the doorway at the far end of the room. He seemed interested in the scene, too. He stood glaring.
Then his mouth opened so that his false teeth glittered in his beard. He said in German in a loud voice: “Stop that!”
The young lovers sprang apart like the two halves of an apple separated by a knife. I couldn’t see Peter’s face, but Ruth’s face looked pale and angry as she turned to face him.
Dr. Schneider walked towards them ponderously and quickly, his black beard shaking on his chest. With a grunt he stooped and picked up the woman’s sabre and brought the flat of it down across her shoulders. I heard it swish in the air and he raised it for a second blow.
Peter, in a voice like the yap of a dog, said a German word which implied that his father’s sexual practices improved on nature’s simple plan. Without waiting for a further development of the theory, I dropped to the grass and sprinted around the back of the house and onto the porch. I heard Alec pound up the steps behind me as I ran in the open back door.
When I reached the door of the fencing room, Dr. Schneider was lying on the floor on his back. Peter was kneeling on his father’s outstretched arms and briskly slapping his face. Just a family party.
“This will teach you to mind your business,” Peter said in German. The old man’s curses were muffled and he gasped for breath.
The woman was standing above the two men, looking down at them. She glanced up and saw us and I stepped into the room with Alec at my shoulder. She fell back a pace and her hand flew to her mouth, but she said quite calmly then:
“Peter, you have guests.”
Peter came to his feet facing us in a single fluid motion. His face was scarlet with fury and for a moment he crouched slightly with his shoulder muscles bunched under his sweater as if he would leap at us. I wish he had.
The woman touched his arm and said, “Please.”
Peter drew a hand across his rage-puffed lips. Then he said, “Dr. Branch.”
I heard the woman take a short, hard breath. She looked at me with wide green eyes in which bewilderment moved like water under wind. Had I changed so much?
Before I could speak, Peter said, “Forgive me for being found in such an undignified position. My father is in his manic phase again. Happily it never lasts long, but I sometimes have to act decisively in order to avoid a Dostoevsky climax. Prince
The sabres must have clashed thirty times in unbroken sequence but the play went on. They stood bareheaded under the flashing blows as if they trusted each other utterly. The woman’s face looked dazzled and serene and Peter’s body moved like a dancer’s in love.
The woman stepped back and lowered her sabre and Peter laid his weapon on the floor and stepped towards her. She came into his arms and I saw his face go down to hers. She dropped her sabre and her hand came round to the nape of his neck. Her knee pressed forward between his legs and they stood there swaying in passion.
Alec took away his shoulder and my heels came down hard on the ground. I felt disemboweled and stuffed with kapok. A goblin monotone in the howling wilderness of my brain began to recite brisk little rhymes about what a four-letter day it was for me, and repeated them like a cracked record. Phut shut blut slut rut gut mut.
Alec had pulled himself up to the window and I chinned myself beside him on the wide sill. The kiss was still going on, far beyond the Hays office maximum. A charming scene. A charming couple, Peter Schneider and Ruth Esch. I couldn’t see too much of them.
Dr. Schneider made a sudden appearance in the doorway at the far end of the room. He seemed interested in the scene, too. He stood glaring.
Then his mouth opened so that his false teeth glittered in his beard. He said in German in a loud voice: “Stop that!”
The young lovers sprang apart like the two halves of an apple separated by a knife. I couldn’t see Peter’s face, but Ruth’s face looked pale and angry as she turned to face him.
Dr. Schneider walked towards them ponderously and quickly, his black beard shaking on his chest. With a grunt he stooped and picked up the woman’s sabre and brought the flat of it down across her shoulders. I heard it swish in the air and he raised it for a second blow.
Peter, in a voice like the yap of a dog, said a German word which implied that his father’s sexual practices improved on nature’s simple plan. Without waiting for a further development of the theory, I dropped to the grass and sprinted around the back of the house and onto the porch. I heard Alec pound up the steps behind me as I ran in the open back door.
When I reached the door of the fencing room, Dr. Schneider was lying on the floor on his back. Peter was kneeling on his father’s outstretched arms and briskly slapping his face. Just a family party.
“This will teach you to mind your business,” Peter said in German. The old man’s curses were muffled and he gasped for breath.
The woman was standing above the two men, looking down at them. She glanced up and saw us and I stepped into the room with Alec at my shoulder. She fell back a pace and her hand flew to her mouth, but she said quite calmly then:
“Peter, you have guests.”
Peter came to his feet facing us in a single fluid motion. His face was scarlet with fury and for a moment he crouched slightly with his shoulder muscles bunched under his sweater as if he would leap at us. I wish he had.
The woman touched his arm and said, “Please.”
Peter drew a hand across his rage-puffed lips. Then he said, “Dr. Branch.”
I heard the woman take a short, hard breath. She looked at me with wide green eyes in which bewilderment moved like water under wind. Had I changed so much?
Before I could speak, Peter said, “Forgive me for being found in such an undignified position. My father is in his manic phase again. Happily it never lasts long, but I sometimes have to act decisively in order to avoid a Dostoevsky climax. Prince
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