Read Online The Eleventh Year by Monique Raphel High - Free Book Online
Authors: Monique Raphel High
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mentioned. Actually itâs peaceful hereââ
âBut too much peace can dull the mind, the senses. Allow me to call on you at your hotelââ I mustnât beg, Elena told herself. I must seem in control.â¦She clenched her hands into fists on her lap, but kept her eyes clear, her smile perfect.
âWonderful! Hereâs our address. Would you care to meet us tomorrow for tea? But not here. We shall take it in our rooms, which are infinitely better decorated thanâ¦this.â Genia moved her head, encompassing the room in one gesture. She took out a piece of paper from her fine leather bag, extracted a small silver pen, and wrote down the information.
Elena took it. She felt, in the instant of contact, a shock close to electricity, as if something beyond her scope was warning her that this was the way out of exile, out of the Siberian wasteland. She stood up, hoping the Adlers wouldnât stare too much at her old coat, and extended her hand, first to Fania, then to her sister. âI shall come. It was so delightful to meet you. We shall talk of Paris and of Moscow. But perhaps not, because the war is so much on all our minds. Instead weâll talk about your trip, weâll feast on pagodas and rickshawsââ
âYes, we shall!â Fania agreed warmly. Neither of the Adlers was even looking at her pelisse, and inwardly Elena sighed with relief. She inclined her head, smiled once more, and departed, striding as was her custom. Her heart was knocking inside her with suppressed excitement. Yet she couldnât explain her feelings in any concrete, reasonable terms. The Adlers were the opportunity seized on the cuff, the shower of gold captured in an instantâa propitious instant. When Fate extended her hand, one had to grasp it without a secondâs hesitationâ¦.
The next day she dressed carefully, simply but well. She had never worn the frills that women had enjoyed in the past, because she knew she looked better in clothes that would offset her unusual beauty without offering competition of their own. The Adlers were waiting for her, and there was a marvelous array of tea cakes in the salon of their suite. Elena began to talk, pleasantly, of teas she had attended in the past, of the Tsarina Alexandra, of her sister, the Grand-Duchess Ella, who had become a nun after her husbandâs vicious murder. But she skipped quickly onto the subject of art, of concerts, of dances, for the tsar was not only a sore subject to her, but also surely to her hostesses if they were Jewish. She asked questions, laughed, ate, but all the time she existed outside herself, watching herself consciously pretending to be carefree. At the end of the afternoon she consulted a small gold watch that was pinned to her jacket, and she murmured: âI must go! I hope that you will still be in town tomorrow?â
âOh, certainly. Will you come back, Princess Elena?â
âIt would be my pleasure.â
Outside, hugging her old coat to her sides, she wondered: But how much longer shall I be able to act the part of Scheherazade and detain them from leaving? She thought of the bureau in the bedroom of their hotel, and of the fabrics and jewels literally spilling from its drawers. Her mouth was wet with hunger, and her nerves were on edge.
----
J amie felt immense peace of mind at Vassar. From her room in Main Hall, she could overlook the fall leaves gathering in romantic piles over the hills. She liked to walk to class among the old stone buildings. There was security at Vassar, security in its past, security in its own future and, therefore, in hers too. She had felt closed in by Cincinnati, by the world of her mother and father. Now she felt free, limitless, like a blank page on which anything could be written.
She was rooming with a girl who was as different from her as anyone could ever be, Jamie thought. Lesley Aymes Richardson was so small, so elegant, so utterly graceful in
âBut too much peace can dull the mind, the senses. Allow me to call on you at your hotelââ I mustnât beg, Elena told herself. I must seem in control.â¦She clenched her hands into fists on her lap, but kept her eyes clear, her smile perfect.
âWonderful! Hereâs our address. Would you care to meet us tomorrow for tea? But not here. We shall take it in our rooms, which are infinitely better decorated thanâ¦this.â Genia moved her head, encompassing the room in one gesture. She took out a piece of paper from her fine leather bag, extracted a small silver pen, and wrote down the information.
Elena took it. She felt, in the instant of contact, a shock close to electricity, as if something beyond her scope was warning her that this was the way out of exile, out of the Siberian wasteland. She stood up, hoping the Adlers wouldnât stare too much at her old coat, and extended her hand, first to Fania, then to her sister. âI shall come. It was so delightful to meet you. We shall talk of Paris and of Moscow. But perhaps not, because the war is so much on all our minds. Instead weâll talk about your trip, weâll feast on pagodas and rickshawsââ
âYes, we shall!â Fania agreed warmly. Neither of the Adlers was even looking at her pelisse, and inwardly Elena sighed with relief. She inclined her head, smiled once more, and departed, striding as was her custom. Her heart was knocking inside her with suppressed excitement. Yet she couldnât explain her feelings in any concrete, reasonable terms. The Adlers were the opportunity seized on the cuff, the shower of gold captured in an instantâa propitious instant. When Fate extended her hand, one had to grasp it without a secondâs hesitationâ¦.
The next day she dressed carefully, simply but well. She had never worn the frills that women had enjoyed in the past, because she knew she looked better in clothes that would offset her unusual beauty without offering competition of their own. The Adlers were waiting for her, and there was a marvelous array of tea cakes in the salon of their suite. Elena began to talk, pleasantly, of teas she had attended in the past, of the Tsarina Alexandra, of her sister, the Grand-Duchess Ella, who had become a nun after her husbandâs vicious murder. But she skipped quickly onto the subject of art, of concerts, of dances, for the tsar was not only a sore subject to her, but also surely to her hostesses if they were Jewish. She asked questions, laughed, ate, but all the time she existed outside herself, watching herself consciously pretending to be carefree. At the end of the afternoon she consulted a small gold watch that was pinned to her jacket, and she murmured: âI must go! I hope that you will still be in town tomorrow?â
âOh, certainly. Will you come back, Princess Elena?â
âIt would be my pleasure.â
Outside, hugging her old coat to her sides, she wondered: But how much longer shall I be able to act the part of Scheherazade and detain them from leaving? She thought of the bureau in the bedroom of their hotel, and of the fabrics and jewels literally spilling from its drawers. Her mouth was wet with hunger, and her nerves were on edge.
----
J amie felt immense peace of mind at Vassar. From her room in Main Hall, she could overlook the fall leaves gathering in romantic piles over the hills. She liked to walk to class among the old stone buildings. There was security at Vassar, security in its past, security in its own future and, therefore, in hers too. She had felt closed in by Cincinnati, by the world of her mother and father. Now she felt free, limitless, like a blank page on which anything could be written.
She was rooming with a girl who was as different from her as anyone could ever be, Jamie thought. Lesley Aymes Richardson was so small, so elegant, so utterly graceful in
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