Tempting Fate (33 page)

“And it may be that the men who drink at the Hirsch Furt also drink at the Gletscher Gipfel Gasthof.” Ragoczy studied Simeon’s face, then added, “It is always tempting to look for devils instead of men, but that is a dangerous mistake, Simeon. Few men act out of real malice, just as few act out of true beneficence. Most are motivated by their desires, their fears, their greeds, their confusions. They will seize the momentary advantage if it does not demand too much and the act does not prick their conscience too deeply.”

“You sound cynical,” Simeon said forlornly.

“Cynical? I? No. If I were a cynic, I would see those things and be smug, but I cannot. I have seen great acts of heroism that were negated by an hour of foolishness. I have known honorable men whose honor betrayed them. I have known women of incomparable courage who were denied its expression, and so turned it inward against themselves. None of it has given me anything but sorrow, that such worth could be wantonly abused. In the face of such things, cynicism
is
somewhat tempting, since it would take the sting out of life. But it would remove the pleasure as well, so…” He shrugged slightly, and said in another, brisker tone, “Perhaps you and Amalie would like to join me for a performance at the Prinzregententheater. You may choose what we attend. Anything would be acceptable to me so long as it is not
Palestrine.
As much as I admire Bruno Walter, I am not part of the Pfitzner enthusiasts, and three hearings of that opera are enough. The Mascagni or Korngold should be worthwhile, if you’re interested in new works.”

Simeon smiled gratefully. “We would be delighted, of course. Amalie is very fond of Mozart.”

“Then you have only to select the performance,” Ragoczy said.

“But I don’t know about the Prinzregententheater. Those unpadded wooden seats … I don’t know if Amalie would be comfortable on them. Right now, you know, that’s an important consideration.” There was a reserve about him now, as if he were rid of an awkward commission.

“Then let us plan for after the child is born. We should be able to get tickets for the Gartnerplatz,” he said, giving Simeon a nod of encouragement as if he had not noticed the subtle change in his expression. “If you like, I will ask one of my servants to stay with your children. Or perhaps you might bring them up here for the evening, so that Laisha might entertain them.”

“That’s very kind, Herr Graf, but I would not want to make things awkward for you in the neighborhood. It isn’t necessary, I assure you.” He looked away toward the door.

Ragoczy’s quiet response caught his attention. “But it is, you know.”

“I don’t see what—” Simeon began, longing to escape.

“You have done excellent work for me, and there is no reason why I should not show you my appreciation,” Ragoczy interrupted.

The sudden stare that Simeon gave Ragoczy showed that he was not deceived by what his host had said. He paused, then said in a low voice, “Danke vielmals, Graf. I am beholden to you.” He buttoned his overcoat and looked around for his hat which he had surrendered to Roger when he arrived.

“There is no need, Simeon. This is my choice, after all,” Ragoczy told him as he opened the door to the cloakroom and pulled the hat from the bentwood rack.

“I cannot change my feelings, Herr Graf,” Simeon said as he took his hat. “You have lifted a great burden from my mind. Amalie will be relieved to hear this. She was afraid that you might not want me to continue here, what with … recent developments. With the baby coming, her fear is not unreasonable.”

“Merci bien de compliment,” Ragoczy said with an ironic laugh. “I hope I am no poltroon. I have once before offered your family my friendship, and I feared then that I was not believed.” He could not admit how much that had stung, for it awakened old hurt that he had thought he had put behind him. Of late he had sought to deny his essential isolation, but it was inescapable, and in the marrow of his bones, he knew it. His compelling dark eyes met Simeon’s. “You have an ally in me, should you need one. I do not say this lightly.”

Simeon clutched his hat, disquieted by the sincerity of Ragoczy’s words. “Yes,” he said at last, and opened the door to walk out into the rain to his eleven-year-old Opel Double Phaeton. He checked to make sure the top was firmly in place before climbing into the driver’s seat. Only then did he turn and look back toward the door of the Schloss. “I hope that you never have to be put to the test,” he said, trusting that the sound of the rain would keep Ragoczy from hearing.

But he did. “And I. It would grieve me to learn that your family was in danger.” He gave Simeon a short, formal bow, then stepped back into the house.

As Simeon drove away, Ragoczy hurried down the hall, calling out, “Roger, is the Benz ready?” He did not wait for an answer but stepped into his study and opened a small wardrobe. The coat he pulled out was of magnificent black wool with four driving capes and a velvet collar. He dropped this over his arm and left the room again, once more calling for Roger.

“The Benz is ready,” Roger told him as he came from the back part of the Schloss. “I understand there has been a slide on the road farther up, and they’re bringing a gang of convict laborers to repair it. You may remember,” Roger went on with a distant twist to his lips that was not a smile, “mountain roads can be treacherous.”

“Yes, but this time I am not going far, and this is neither Armenia nor China. But I thank you for the warning, old friend.” He drew on his coat and took his hat from Roger’s outstretched hand. “Herr Vögel wishes to talk with me about Laisha’s progress, so we will probably not be back until two or three. No doubt Laisha will be famished, and it would be best if there is some sort of light meal waiting for her.” He opened the door, then turned back. “Will you replenish the earth in the soles of my winter boots? I imagine I’ll be wearing them soon.”

“It’s already been done,” Roger said, preparing to close the door.

“I need not have asked. Thank you.” He waved as he went around the end of the house toward the garage and stables, his small, elegantly-shod feet raising miniature cascades as he walked through the puddles on the graveled drive.

The first crest on the road between Schliersee and Geitau was easily traversed, though it was necessary to go at a cautious twenty kilometers per hour. Here and there deep ruts awaited the unwary, and Ragoczy negotiated these parts with care. As he started up the second, longer rise, the going became more difficult. The road was not so well-maintained past the turning for Fischbachau, and Ragoczy was forced to go even more slowly. Five kilometers farther on, he came to the slide, and noticed that there was another stretch of hillside that was showing signs of sliding: he hoped that he, Laisha, and her tutor David Bündnis would be at Schloss Saint-Germain before that muddy avalanche thundered down onto the road. It was nerve-racking to drive over the slide, for only a narrow lip of road remained unblocked, and it was on the ledge side, and not too stable.

Once past the slide, Ragoczy made slightly better time, and it was not long before he entered the village of Geitau, taking the narrow lane that led to Herr Professor Vögel’s house, which he had whimsically dubbed Nest.

It was a typical mountain house, the sort seen throughout these peaks in Bayern. It was lovingly maintained, brightly painted, and now, with a light powdering of snow, it looked too perfect to be real, rather like an illustration for a children’s book instead of the home of a retired Professor of biology. As Ragoczy drove up, the Professor himself came out onto the porch, calling out his welcome.

“I was afraid that you might not get here, with the road in such poor condition. The postman said that he very nearly didn’t make it through. But here you are. Your daughter said that you would come.” He was short, rotund, and had an absent smile which masked an acute and discerning mind.

Ragoczy set the brake and got out of the Benz. “Frightful weather, Professor Vögel.”

“Oh, do you think so? I like it, myself. The snow is refreshing, you see, and winter is such an invigorating season.” He stood aside to allow Ragoczy to enter his house. “I might feel differently if I had to make the drive you have just made, but that’s not a consideration for me.” He closed the door and called out, “Laisha! Your father is here.”

“Moi otyets!” she cried happily, coming out of the parlor on the side of the sheltered side of the house. “I
knew
you’d come.” She flung her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his coat.

“Laisha, I’m wet, child. Let me get out of this coat.” He ruffled her pale hair, smiling down at her with tender, vulnerable pride. She was young, so young, and had no real knowledge of him. It occurred to him, as it had increasingly often in the last year, that one day she would have to be told what he was, before she stumbled on the truth by accident. He had been discreet, taking no lover but those he visited in sleep, chosen mainly from those who came to the hotels at Bad Wiessee. Yet the time would come when he would have to tell her, and he shrank from that revelation as he had never shrunk from anything before. What if she feared him, or loathed him? He had often been the object of hatred and detestation, and he had learned, over the centuries, to accept this as philosophically as possible. With Laisha, his feelings were different. Her renunciation would cut to the depths of his soul. Gently he pushed her away as he unbuttoned his coat. “There,” he said as he hung it on a peg near the door. “Now”—he opened his arms to her—“come here, Laisha.”

She hugged him again, laughing. “You’re funny, Papa.”

When had she started to call him Papa? Was it last year? He knew that with strangers she always referred to him as her guardian, but she had not addressed him as such for some time. “How were your lessons?” he asked her after he had kissed the top of her head.

“Well enough, for lessons.” She shrugged. “I like botany, but microscopes are silly.” She broke away from him and started back toward the parlor. “Herr Bündnis says that I ought to apply myself.”

As she disappeared into the parlor, Ragoczy turned to Professor Vögel. “And what do you say?”

Vögel sighed and scratched his head. “Well, Herr Graf, it is not my place to say, but no doubt the child is intelligent. She has an aptitude for science, but I have noticed of late that she is particularly interested in medicine. I’m not talking about bandaging up cut fingers; no.” He hooked his thumbs onto the watch-and-fob pockets of his vest. “She was examining a diseased plant the other day, and was most curious. She wished to know what it was that had caused this particular plant to suffer from this particular disease. That, as you’re probably aware, is a very sophisticated question. When I reminded her of our talks on genetics, she became most impatient and said that was all trivial now. That the plant was dying was important, and although the genetic component was a factor, the disease was the primary consideration. Her language was not so precise, but her understanding was excellent. I’ve been pleasantly surprised in her, Herr Graf.”

Ragoczy did not stifle his smile. “That delights me.”

“But something is troubling you,” Professor Vögel said, lowering his voice.

“Yes, but it’s not what you think.” Ragoczy looked away toward the window and the falling snow. “It’s so brief. The emphemeral years are here, then gone. I treasure her growing, though she will be gone from me so soon.” He saw the sympathetic nod that Professor Vögel offered him, and did not know how to tell him that the lifetime the Professor had lived seemed as brief to him, who had been born four thousand years before, as Laisha’s fleeting childhood.

“I’ve felt that way,” Professor Vögel was saying. “Often, when I was still teaching, I would see an occasional brilliant student who would attend my lectures and demonstrations for one year or two, and the next thing you know, I would find that he was presenting papers at scientific meetings as an esteemed colleague. Well, it’s the way of the world, is it not, Herr Graf?”

“The way of the world,” Ragoczy repeated, thinking of Thebes and Babylon, or Tyre and Rome, of Lo-Yang and Kiev, of Florence and Paris.

“And this girl of yours—oh, you need not remind me she is not your flesh and blood; I know that well enough—she has a great deal of promise if only it isn’t stifled. It may be less difficult for her, what with women getting the vote in England and America, to make her way in her studies, but the academic community is progressive only in ideas. For the rest, we are very conservative, and it may be that she will encounter more opposition than she wishes to deal with. You will have to speak with her about that. What I am trying to tell you, Herr Graf, is that I feel it would be wise to encourage her to continue her studies. I know what youngsters are, and it is possible that she may change her mind many times before she finds her true métier. It would be a shame, however, if she were discouraged from exploring, if you take my meaning.” He waggled his long, wispy brows once or twice in emphasis.

“It would give me great joy to see Laisha excel in work of her choice. There has been much tragedy in her life; I wish I could give her some happiness.” He looked toward the parlor, where he could hear Laisha in quiet conversation with David Bündnis.

“Her memory…?” the Professor asked with as much tact as he possessed.

“No. There is no change there.” Ragoczy thrust his hands into his pockets and looked up, breathing deeply once. “Nor have the men I have hired to make inquiries come up with any solid information. That’s not entirely surprising, when you consider the state Russia is in. Doubtless there is someone who knows who she is, and if any of her family is still alive, but so far they have not been found. And I confess,” he went on more cheerfully, “that part of me would be glad if they were not found, for then I would not have to give her up. Eventually she will leave me, I know that, but I would prefer to have her with me as long as possible.” He shook his head in gentle self-mockery. “Come, let us join the other two, or Laisha will begin to fear you have given me a bad report.”

Professor Vögel chuckled. “That’s nonsense, but if that’s what you wish, Herr Graf, by all means…” He led the way into the parlor, making an expansive gesture toward the girl and her tutor as he approached the fireplace. “Forgive us for lingering in the hall. We needed a moment of discussion.”