Read Online Pray for a Brave Heart by Helen MacInnes - Free Book Online Page A

remember it. He rarely foresaw it, but he would remember it. While Aunt Louisa would foresee every possible danger, probably avoid most of them, and blame herself if there was one she had underestimated.
    That was the way it had been. Her father betrayed by a Fascist into German hands. Her brother betrayed by a Communist, murdered, his war record covered with lies and calumny to wina propaganda victory. And her mother dead with the pain of it, blaming herself for not having foreseen the treachery.
    And I’m left alone, Francesca thought. And for what? I can’t even warn people: they won’t listen. I am only heard by the ones who are already convinced. What good is that?
    She swung her body off the bed. She was tense and cold again. “Well?” she asked Paula, who had just turned away from the phone. “Was Aunt Louisa worried in case I caught pneumonia?”
    Paula said, smiling, “She did say you were to go to bed early tonight, with a good hot drink.”
    Francesca searched for her shoes.
    “She really is very kind,” Paula said, half-worried as she watched Francesca’s drawn face. “She’s asked Andy and me out to Falken for the week-end. I do hope Andy will be free.”
    “I hope so.” Francesca was combing her hair, her long fair silken hair. Then swiftly she twisted it into a loose knot, low on the back of her neck, and pinned it quickly, skilfully, into exact place.
    “She said that Gregor came to see you this afternoon.”
    “Gregor?”
    “That was the name, I think. Sounds Russian.”
    “He is.” Francesca studied her pale cheeks in the looking-glass. “You wouldn’t think I lived in one of the healthiest villages in Switzerland, would you? Remember that old castle just over a mile away from Falken? They’ve discovered water there with lime and sulphur and horrible tastes, so it’s now called Schlossfalken-Bad, and people go there to take the cure. Perhaps I ought to walk in that direction more regularly.” She tried to smile.
    But Paula was not side-tracked. “What kind of life do you have in Falken, anyway?”
    “Oh—fresh air and mountains.”
    “What about friends?”
    “Difficult. Swiss air seems to bring out my Italian blood. Everyone is kind, but they think I’m a little bit of a freak. I read books, I like music, I enjoy arguing about politics. Man’s work, darling.”
    “But there must be women your age.”
    “Plenty. They’re round and pretty and red-cheeked, and they’re all married with at least three children.”
    “Why don’t you get married?”
    Francesca smiled.
    “Who’s this Gregor?”
    “A friend. A very good friend,” Francesca said gently. Then she looked quickly up at Paula. “And that’s all. We’re both too crazy to be able to live together peacefully. But Gregor is my friend.”
    Paula looked worriedly at Francesca. “Well, if there is no one in the village who interests you, aren’t there ever any visitors to Falken?”
    Francesca said, “Oh, they come. And they go.” She half-paused. “There’s one who has just bought a house. An American. He says he means to stay.”
    “Do you like him?”
    Francesca’s cheeks coloured for a moment. “I don’t like or dislike him,” she said too quickly. “But he is different… He’s so anxious to make friends, to be happy, and yet—he can’t somehow. He’s incredibly shy, perhaps unsure of himself.” And that’s something I do understand, she thought sadly.
    “But he keeps looking at you?” Paula asked, with a smile.
    Francesca glanced at her. “Really—” she began coldly.
    “Very flattering,” Paula conceded. “But if he starts making you feel sorry for him, then that’s a type I’d discourage most heartily. Pale knights lonely loitering are much more devastating than any belle dame sans merci. See, I do remember some of the poetry that was pumped into us at school.” And Francesca had begun to smile, too. “But I’m sorry, if I spoiled Gregor’s evening. Perhaps he wanted to give you