Myshkin, you know.”
Dr. Schneider was getting to his feet, his face contorted with effort and indignation. “It is you who are insane!” he exploded in German. “You are insane and corrupt.”
“Hold thy noise, pig-dog,” Peter said in German. “Or thou wilt be made to regret it.’
“I regret begetting you. You are twisted and insane. And as for this thing—” The old man pointed at the woman with a stubby finger that vibrated in the air—“you will take this thing out of my house.”
“Your house?”
“Out of my house. To-night. I cannot stand it.”
Dr. Schneider stamped to the door with his shoulders hunched as if in despair. I wondered what he despaired of. The woman stood straight and watched him go past us out of the room. Her eyes flared with hate like the green flame of copper foil.
Peter turned to me and said, “My father is temporarily insane, as I said. But pardon me, I believe you know my fiancée, Dr. Branch? Miss Ruth Esch.”
She said, “Do you remember me, Bob? I’ve changed, I know. Though I said I would remain myself.” Her voice was harsher than it had been.
“You haven’t changed at all,” I said. “I knew you right away.”
But she had changed. Anyone changes in six years, and she had been in prison. Her hair was as bright as ever but her green eyes were not so clear. The bones of her face were more prominent and there were faint hollows in her cheeks and along the line of her jaw. Her skin was ravaged by time and the hardships she had undergone, and she looked older than she was.
Yet the strong and delicate shape of her head was the same and her body was as I remembered it. Slim and straight as a boy’s, with small, high breasts and narrow hips and firm legs like a dancer’s. I stood and looked at her and wondered if I had dreamed I saw her kiss Peter Schneider. But he said she was his fiancée and she had not denied it. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Alec had not spoken till now. He said, “I’m afraid I don’t know Miss Esch, and Mr. Schneider.”
“Mr. Judd,” I said to them.
Ruth bowed stiffly and Peter clicked his heels. Alec’s frown deepened at that.
My story was ready. “I came to inquire if Miss Esch had arrived safely. Mr. Judd was good enough to drive me out. We were just going to knock on the front door when we heard the sound of fighting. We came in without knocking.”
Peter coolly looked me up and down. “Unwisely, perhaps? Do you frequently intervene in family crises with which you have nothing to do?”
“I dislike patricide,” I said. “I dislike homicide of any kind.”
Peter turned red again. He was turning red as regularly as a traffic light. But he spoke very calmly and precisely. “Good evening, Dr. Branch. And Mr. Judd. You have seen that Miss Esch has arrived safely and now, I believe, there is nothing to detain you.”
I looked at Ruth and she turned away. There was a red weal across the back of her neck where the sabre had struck her. I said, “Ruth,” but she didn’t look at me.
Suddenly, I felt like a romantic boy. Six years is a long time. The six years from 1937 to 1943 were a very long time in Europe. Much water had flowed under the bridge, and much blood, and then the bridge was blown up. I had known her for one month and she had made no promises.
I turned and walked out of the room and Alec followed me to the front door. It was locked but I turned the key in the lock and we stepped out onto the driveway. We had nothing to say to each other as we went down the road to the car. At least I had nothing to say, and Alec held his peace.
We found the car and drove back into Arbana. My head was buzzing, not with ideas. Ruth Esch had changed all right. She had changed from my girl into Peter Schneider’s.
Yet she had probably saved my life. It was pretty clear that she had been in Schneider’s house all evening: I remembered Dr. Schneider’s phone-call when I first mentioned Ruth to him in the German
Dr. Schneider was getting to his feet, his face contorted with effort and indignation. “It is you who are insane!” he exploded in German. “You are insane and corrupt.”
“Hold thy noise, pig-dog,” Peter said in German. “Or thou wilt be made to regret it.’
“I regret begetting you. You are twisted and insane. And as for this thing—” The old man pointed at the woman with a stubby finger that vibrated in the air—“you will take this thing out of my house.”
“Your house?”
“Out of my house. To-night. I cannot stand it.”
Dr. Schneider stamped to the door with his shoulders hunched as if in despair. I wondered what he despaired of. The woman stood straight and watched him go past us out of the room. Her eyes flared with hate like the green flame of copper foil.
Peter turned to me and said, “My father is temporarily insane, as I said. But pardon me, I believe you know my fiancée, Dr. Branch? Miss Ruth Esch.”
She said, “Do you remember me, Bob? I’ve changed, I know. Though I said I would remain myself.” Her voice was harsher than it had been.
“You haven’t changed at all,” I said. “I knew you right away.”
But she had changed. Anyone changes in six years, and she had been in prison. Her hair was as bright as ever but her green eyes were not so clear. The bones of her face were more prominent and there were faint hollows in her cheeks and along the line of her jaw. Her skin was ravaged by time and the hardships she had undergone, and she looked older than she was.
Yet the strong and delicate shape of her head was the same and her body was as I remembered it. Slim and straight as a boy’s, with small, high breasts and narrow hips and firm legs like a dancer’s. I stood and looked at her and wondered if I had dreamed I saw her kiss Peter Schneider. But he said she was his fiancée and she had not denied it. I couldn’t think of anything to say.
Alec had not spoken till now. He said, “I’m afraid I don’t know Miss Esch, and Mr. Schneider.”
“Mr. Judd,” I said to them.
Ruth bowed stiffly and Peter clicked his heels. Alec’s frown deepened at that.
My story was ready. “I came to inquire if Miss Esch had arrived safely. Mr. Judd was good enough to drive me out. We were just going to knock on the front door when we heard the sound of fighting. We came in without knocking.”
Peter coolly looked me up and down. “Unwisely, perhaps? Do you frequently intervene in family crises with which you have nothing to do?”
“I dislike patricide,” I said. “I dislike homicide of any kind.”
Peter turned red again. He was turning red as regularly as a traffic light. But he spoke very calmly and precisely. “Good evening, Dr. Branch. And Mr. Judd. You have seen that Miss Esch has arrived safely and now, I believe, there is nothing to detain you.”
I looked at Ruth and she turned away. There was a red weal across the back of her neck where the sabre had struck her. I said, “Ruth,” but she didn’t look at me.
Suddenly, I felt like a romantic boy. Six years is a long time. The six years from 1937 to 1943 were a very long time in Europe. Much water had flowed under the bridge, and much blood, and then the bridge was blown up. I had known her for one month and she had made no promises.
I turned and walked out of the room and Alec followed me to the front door. It was locked but I turned the key in the lock and we stepped out onto the driveway. We had nothing to say to each other as we went down the road to the car. At least I had nothing to say, and Alec held his peace.
We found the car and drove back into Arbana. My head was buzzing, not with ideas. Ruth Esch had changed all right. She had changed from my girl into Peter Schneider’s.
Yet she had probably saved my life. It was pretty clear that she had been in Schneider’s house all evening: I remembered Dr. Schneider’s phone-call when I first mentioned Ruth to him in the German
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