Authors: Chelsea Quinn Yarbro
“Your icon,” Ragoczy said, handing her the sacred portrait as she came out of the room. “You will want to take this with you.”
She pressed the icon to her breast as she came toward him. “Thank you, Count. Even if it should happen that you can do nothing more, thank you for this much.”
Ragoczy had looked over her dress and shabby bag and resolved to be sure that she did not have to live this way again. If he could not find someone to employ her directly, he would authorize one of the companies he owned under various aliases to hire her. He pulled open the hall door and stepped out. “Come with me, ma Duchesse.”
She followed him down the stairs and out of the building. The street was quite empty and the one lamp at the far end flickered and sputtered. The electric streetlights that made Paris glitter had not penetrated this portion of the city, and it was as dark as it had been a hundred years ago.
At the corner, Ragoczy directed them toward the nearest boulevard. It was now almost three in the morning, but he thought it would be possible to find a taxi there. In fifteen minutes they were seated in an old Renault and across the Seine.
“I feel I am the girl in the folktale, riding in a magic coach that will turn back into a stone in the morning,” Irina said as she watched the lights go by.
“You’re more likely to be too busy to be concerned about coaches,” he remarked. “I have been thinking about your situation. You’re skilled with languages, aren’t you?”
“Fairly, but I haven’t the credentials for tutoring or teaching. I made inquiries when I first came here.” She directed her attention from the street back to the man beside her. “It will have to be something else, Count.”
“Do you think so? I have a few friends who need translators, not for their children, but for scholarly work. Have you skill enough for that?” He saw her hesitation, and added, “Ma Duchesse, an old friend of mine has often lamented that she has not had the opportunity to learn Russian, and her Greek is sketchy. She has often required a translator to work for her, and she is not the only person I know who needs such services performed.”
“Yes, I thought of that, but had no one who could introduce me, or tell me whom to contact.” She sighed, and some of her newly-found hope dimmed.
“That may be, but I do know those who would use your skills and pay you well for them. Tomorrow morning, I will call Professor Louis-Onfroi Servie and speak to him on your behalf. He is learned in Slavic languages, and he often is asked to recommend a translator. Would you be willing to see him in a few days? He is a brusque man, but appreciates real knowledge. Well?” He knew he was pressing her, but it seemed to him that she could easily sink back into the apathetic despair which had held her so long.
“I suppose it is possible, but he will not wish to deal with me. I am so … This dress is shameful, and the rest are worse.” She folded her arms defensively.
“Then we will see that you have proper clothes. It is a minor matter. And when you have secured your post, then you will be able to select the place you wish to live. Until then you may stay at my apartment, and my staff will care for you. We’re almost there.”
The cab had turned down a pleasant tree-lined street flanked by tall, elegant buildings that were quite new. It slowed and pulled up at the third from the corner.
“Thank you,” Ragoczy said to the driver as he leaned forward to pay the fare.
The driver touched the brim of his cap as Ragoczy and Irina got out, then started away down the street, a moving point of noise in the stately silence.
Ragoczy’s apartment was on the top floor overlooking a court with a garden three stories below. It had nine large rooms, beautifully furnished and well-maintained, Ragoczy pointed out the various doors to her, finally opening one. “This is for my guests. There is a bathroom adjoining, if you wish a hot bath. My study is across the hall if you need anything.” He placed her carpetbag on a low Empire stool and turned on three of the lights, revealing gray-and-gold walls with bronze-green draperies. He studiously avoided the mirror over the dressing table.
“Count, this is magnificent,” she whispered. It had been so long since she had touched fine fabrics or known the pleasure of simple comforts.
“Then enjoy it, ma Duchesse. I will instruct my housekeeper to see to your needs in the morning.” He was about to close the door when she detained him.
“What will your housekeeper think, Count, when she discovers me here?” The question had been nagging her, and she was wary of the answer.
“She will be pleased. Madame Jardin has been with me for more than a decade and during most of that time she has seen little of me. She would like to have me in Paris more often, and if you are here … I can’t control her thoughts, my dear, and would not wish to. But I will explain who you are, which will impress her, I think.” He had almost completely closed the door when he heard Irina come toward him. “What is it now?”
“What will I do? I am ashamed to sleep in my nightgown in this bed.” She felt heat in her cheeks.
“If you must have a robe, there is one in the bathroom. It will be large, but adequate. Use that until you have something to replace it.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“My study is across the hall.” He closed the door to the guest room and opened the door opposite. The wood-paneled room was of pleasing proportions, so that its size was not immediately apparent. Two sofas stood facing each other in front of the little fireplace, and near them a large desk fronted on three tall windows. In the day, it was light, but now it had the privacy of darkness. Ragoczy pulled off his jacket and opened the door to a small closet. He took down a lounging robe of black brocade shot with silver thread, and this he donned, loosening his tie after he knotted the sash of the robe. He sat on one of the sofas and propped his heels on the brass stand by the hearth. He permitted himself to feel a touch of satisfaction. He had failed many times in his life, but at the moment he was beginning to hope that he might salvage a few things of worth from the wreckage of war and revolution. Too many times in the past he had seen the destruction carry all with it, leaving only ruin behind. He sensed that there would not be a great deal of time to prepare for the next onslaught, for the world was moving faster than when he had been young. A year ago he had doubted he could succeed, but recently his confidence had grown. “If it’s not a fool’s paradise,” he said to the walls. Belatedly he turned on the lamp beside the sofa and smiled at the warm glow it provided. How many times he had wished for such a light to be had for no greater effort than the pulling of a string or the turning of a socket! Studies which had been called heresy and had been practiced in fear and danger were now the province of chemistry and physics and were hailed as the foremost progress of mankind.
He was still relishing this ironic amusement when he heard a timid knock at the door. “Irina?” he called out as he went to open it.
She was still damp from the bath, her hair wrapped in a towel, the oversized robe engulfing her. “Oh, it was so lovely,” she said as she came into the room. “All that hot water, and the soap soft, smelling of violets.”
“I’m pleased that you enjoyed it,” he said, motioning her to the other sofa.
“I don’t feel so contaminated any longer. My hair hasn’t been this clean in years. I lay in hot water for almost fifteen minutes, and I don’t think I’ve ever done that.” She dropped onto the sofa and laughed cautiously as Ragoczy took his seat opposite her. “I … I loved it, Count, every moment of it.”
“Excellent.” He indicated the towel around her hair. “If you need a comb, I think there is one on the dressing table.”
“I’ll find it.” She braced her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “Will you come with me? All the time I was in the bath, I was thinking of you. Before, you gave me so much comfort, and…” She stopped abruptly.
“And?” he prompted gently.
“And I realized that … It has been a long time, Count. Leonid is gone, and the children are gone, but I am alive, and if I am to live a new life, it must be without those dear ghosts haunting me. You … What you gave me before was more than the pleasure we had.” She swallowed but did not turn away from the power of his eyes.
He regarded her steadily, not moving. He could not deny his own need, and the disappointment that occasionally accompanied the ephemeral gratification that he obtained from the women at the resorts and inns of Bad Wiessee and Bad Tölz. Irina was known to him, and he recalled his time with her with longing. He rose, holding out his hand to her. “I’ll comb your hair for you.”
Irina was wise enough not to question this. She took his hand and together they crossed the hall to the gold-and-gray room. She sat in silence while he worked out the tangles in her damp hair and made one long plait down her back. The stray wisps around her face dried in fluffy close curls, and in spite of the white streaks through her hair, she felt more youthful than she had since Leonid died.
When he was finished with her hair, Ragoczy reached down to the tie that held Irina’s robe around her. He felt her shiver of response as he touched her bared shoulder, and his own desire intensified. It had been too long since he shared this particular love with a knowing woman. He drew heir to her feet and into his arms, her discarded robe falling to her feet. Yet he held her off briefly. “Are you certain this isn’t misplaced gratitude?”
“Gratitude is a part of it,” she answered, pulling him close to her again. “What is wrong with that? You’ve cared for me, and I am grateful. It also pleases me that you did so. You’ve survived the worst that could happen, and you are not entirely crippled by it. You give me hope.” She kissed him, her need igniting as their lips met.
“Ah, Irina, ma Duchesse,” he said, his face against her cheek.
She did not speak; a series of quiet, joyous whimpers was all the sound she made as he brought her passion to a pitch to match his own. Her body trembled with fulfillment, and the emotions she had so long denied flooded her. She clung to him in his ecstasy, carried by the strength of his fervor to the greater exaltation than she had ever known, that began to fade only with the night. She pursued it in sleep and so did not know when Ragoczy left her bed, and did not hear his gentle words as he touched her smiling lips with his own.
“I, too, am grateful, ma Duchesse.”
Text of a letter from Herr August Kehr to Franchot Ragoczy.
SCHWEIZERBANK
14 NACHHALTIG STRASSE
ZÜRICH
June 17, 1921
Graf Franchot Ragoczy,
Schloss Saint-Germain
Schliersee
Bayern, Deutschland
My dear Graf:
This is to confirm your telegram of June 15 which requests that the sum of twenty thousand Swiss francs be transferred out of the Ziegeldich Gesellschaft, with the assurance that this will be attended to at once. However, I feel it my duty to point out that your fears that this company is planning to manufacture arms is not well-founded, for the terms of the Versailles Treaty and the mandates of the League of Nations most specifically forbid such activities, and Deutschland, having not yet recovered from the severity of her defeat in the Great War, could hardly be anticipating another major offensive in the foreseeable future. I do applaud your caution, of course, and will indeed pay more attention to the emerging industries in Deutschland.
You will find enclosed an accounting for the total cost of restoration of Schloss Saint-Germain. The major items, as you see, are the steel reinforcements of the fifteenth-century portions of the Schloss, and the installation of generator and electricity. Interior work on moldings and other hand-finished items are also significant factors in cost. The rebuilding of the stables will bring the total to approximately three hundred seventy thousand francs. While having no intention of imposing upon you, I feel that I must mention that this is a very costly enterprise. Your funds, as I am sure you know, are more than sufficient to pay for such extravagance several times over, but as you yourself have observed, the current financial outlook is most disturbing, and a little care now may save you much unpleasantness in the future.
I have made the inquiries you have requested, and I am pleased to report that I have found two Velázquez paintings and a folio of sketches by Botticelli. The larger of the two Velázquez works is a portrait of the author Calderón at work on
La Vida es Sueño
, and the smaller depicts peasants at Mass. I have taken the liberty of enclosing the prices requested by the present owners, and will proceed upon receipt of your instructions, should you desire to purchase either of these paintings. The Botticelli has not yet been appraised, but when that has been done, I will inform you of it immediately. Your deposit of gold has been received and assessed; the report is enclosed for your records. If you anticipate another such sizable deposit in the future, may I suggest that it be delivered in person rather than consigned to the care of servants? You have told me that Herr Roger has your complete confidence, but there is hazard in carrying so great an amount, and in this case it is not the matter of temptation, but the possibility of robbery which concerns me.
I look forward to our continuing transactions, Mein Herr Graf.
Most sincerely,
August Kehr
8
When the pony cart made the turn toward the stables of Schloss Saint-Germain, Amalie Schnaubel was laughing with her children and Laisha. It was a hot summer day, encouraging lethargy: the air was soft and warm, the roads were dusty under the trees, and the lakes glimmered, their cold depths inviting swimmers to enjoy their placid waters.
“I haven’t been swimming in years,” Amalie said to Ragoczy as he strolled forward to meet the party in the pony cart. “I’d forgotten how much I like it.” Her hair was wet, and for a moment she reminded Ragoczy of his night in Paris with Irina Ohchenov.