interrupted. “We can’t hang around here!”
They turned back, baffled, not knowing whether to be glad or anxious to find Catharina gone. They were about to start climbing the stairs again when Milos stopped so suddenly that Helen bumped into him. Little Catharina Pancek was sitting on a step farther up the staircase, huddled in her coat. She smiled at them.
“Helen — oh, Helen, I’m so glad to see you.”
Helen rushed forward to take Catharina’s hands. They were burning hot, and the girl’s hair was sticking to her forehead. She smelled of earth.
“Catharina, what are you doing here? You’re shivering! Who let you out?”
“Theresa,” Catharina replied. “It was Theresa. . . . Would you . . . would you like to see the Sky?”
Helen realized that in her amazement at finding the cell empty she had completely forgotten to lookup at the legendary picture on the beam. The girls at the school both feared to see it and dreamed of the sight.
“Yes . . . yes, I would. You mean the Sky really exists?”
“Oh yes, and it’s beautiful. I’ll show you, but . . . but help me. My . . . my legs won’t carry me.”
They took her under the arms, and all three went slowly back to the cell. Milos turned the flashlight on the beam, and they looked at it in silence. The sky was deep blue; the white clouds were crowding each other close as the wind chased them. A large gray bird soared through the air, wings spread wide. They could almost hear its cry.
“I never knew there was a bird,” whispered Helen, impressed.
“It wasn’t there just now,” said Catharina faintly. “It wasn’t there at all while I was in the cell. . . . It’s just appeared. . . . That means I’m the bird, and the bird has flown away. . . .”
“Are you sure it wasn’t there?” asked Helen.
“My father was a mathematician,” Catharina replied.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“My father was a mathematician. . . . Theresa told me so.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Milos breathed into Helen’s ear. “She’s feverish; her teeth are chattering.”
“Right, but where do we take her?”
“I want to go to my consoler,” Catharina declared.
The other two exchanged a swift glance and agreed. They helped Catharina up the stairs as best they could and left the refectory. They had expected the fresh night air to revive the sick girl, but the opposite happened: she almost fainted, and they had to support her to keep her from collapsing in the yard. They skirted the perimeter wall as far as the Skeleton’s lodge. There was no light on in there. Was the old battle-ax watching in silence from behind her venetian blinds? They bent double, keeping below the windows as they made their way silently on until they reached the gate. Milos tried the handle. No luck. It was locked.
He was turning back to tell Helen, who was still supporting Catharina, when an acid voice froze them where they stood. “Going for a little walk, were we?”
The Skeleton was standing ten feet away. Her skin looked yellow in the moonlight. She hadn’t taken off her evening dress or her makeup, and the ash of her cigarette glowed in her hand.
“And what are you doing here, young man?”
Helen opened her mouth to invent some story, but she closed it again at once. There was nothing to explain — or rather, there was too much to explain, and Milos was slowly moving toward the Skeleton.
“Don’t you come any closer, young man! One more step and I shall scream!”
“In that case, ma’am, I’m very sorry,” said Milos, “but —”
And he did something very simple and decidedly primitive: he knocked her out with a single uppercut to her chin. She uttered a strange, mouselike squeal, staggered a little way back, and collapsed like the bag of bones she was.
“Oops!” said Catharina, laughing.
Milos made for the Skeleton, lifted her with one hand, and carried her into the lodge. The next moment, he came out, locked the lodge door, and
They turned back, baffled, not knowing whether to be glad or anxious to find Catharina gone. They were about to start climbing the stairs again when Milos stopped so suddenly that Helen bumped into him. Little Catharina Pancek was sitting on a step farther up the staircase, huddled in her coat. She smiled at them.
“Helen — oh, Helen, I’m so glad to see you.”
Helen rushed forward to take Catharina’s hands. They were burning hot, and the girl’s hair was sticking to her forehead. She smelled of earth.
“Catharina, what are you doing here? You’re shivering! Who let you out?”
“Theresa,” Catharina replied. “It was Theresa. . . . Would you . . . would you like to see the Sky?”
Helen realized that in her amazement at finding the cell empty she had completely forgotten to lookup at the legendary picture on the beam. The girls at the school both feared to see it and dreamed of the sight.
“Yes . . . yes, I would. You mean the Sky really exists?”
“Oh yes, and it’s beautiful. I’ll show you, but . . . but help me. My . . . my legs won’t carry me.”
They took her under the arms, and all three went slowly back to the cell. Milos turned the flashlight on the beam, and they looked at it in silence. The sky was deep blue; the white clouds were crowding each other close as the wind chased them. A large gray bird soared through the air, wings spread wide. They could almost hear its cry.
“I never knew there was a bird,” whispered Helen, impressed.
“It wasn’t there just now,” said Catharina faintly. “It wasn’t there at all while I was in the cell. . . . It’s just appeared. . . . That means I’m the bird, and the bird has flown away. . . .”
“Are you sure it wasn’t there?” asked Helen.
“My father was a mathematician,” Catharina replied.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“My father was a mathematician. . . . Theresa told me so.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Milos breathed into Helen’s ear. “She’s feverish; her teeth are chattering.”
“Right, but where do we take her?”
“I want to go to my consoler,” Catharina declared.
The other two exchanged a swift glance and agreed. They helped Catharina up the stairs as best they could and left the refectory. They had expected the fresh night air to revive the sick girl, but the opposite happened: she almost fainted, and they had to support her to keep her from collapsing in the yard. They skirted the perimeter wall as far as the Skeleton’s lodge. There was no light on in there. Was the old battle-ax watching in silence from behind her venetian blinds? They bent double, keeping below the windows as they made their way silently on until they reached the gate. Milos tried the handle. No luck. It was locked.
He was turning back to tell Helen, who was still supporting Catharina, when an acid voice froze them where they stood. “Going for a little walk, were we?”
The Skeleton was standing ten feet away. Her skin looked yellow in the moonlight. She hadn’t taken off her evening dress or her makeup, and the ash of her cigarette glowed in her hand.
“And what are you doing here, young man?”
Helen opened her mouth to invent some story, but she closed it again at once. There was nothing to explain — or rather, there was too much to explain, and Milos was slowly moving toward the Skeleton.
“Don’t you come any closer, young man! One more step and I shall scream!”
“In that case, ma’am, I’m very sorry,” said Milos, “but —”
And he did something very simple and decidedly primitive: he knocked her out with a single uppercut to her chin. She uttered a strange, mouselike squeal, staggered a little way back, and collapsed like the bag of bones she was.
“Oops!” said Catharina, laughing.
Milos made for the Skeleton, lifted her with one hand, and carried her into the lodge. The next moment, he came out, locked the lodge door, and
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