Days of Winter Read Online Free PDF Page A

Come, Magda.”
    She looked again at Rubin, debating with herself, then her eyes wandered back to the creation in the window. Could she look like that? Above all, could she feel beautiful inside? Rubin took her arm and opened the door. She walked in, her head high.
    Rubin wanted Magda to model the clothes. Patiently, he waited for her to come out of the dressing room. When she did, he was genuinely speechless. Her beauty was now beyond anything he’d ever seen. Even her hair had been carefully arranged in a French twist. She stood before him, majestically, all her fears carefully guarded. Not even the tremor in her hands could be detected as her eyes met Rubin’s.
    “Do you like it?” he asked, smiling broadly.
    “It’s very pretty. Do you?”
    “It’s exquisite. Shall we order it?”
    Her unrelenting pride would not allow her to plead or beg. Magda despised herself for not being able to say, “I want it … more than anything in the world.” Instead she answered, as though it didn’t really matter, “If you think so.”
    Rubin knew it was a façade that he could break through only with love. Someday she would leave it behind. Smiling, he said, “I think so. Now, try on the other things.”
    At five o’clock, Magda was rather fatigued. It wasn’t easy to be a model—better a singer. After four hours the wardrobe had been selected, the colors and fabrics carefully chosen and the appointments for fittings made. In the luxurious dressing room, away from the condescending eyes of the saleswoman—who, Magda knew, was secretly laughing at her—she realized that a change had taken place inside her. All at once the idea had come: She was going to belong to herself …But she was also going to take everything Rubin would give her, and take it without guilt. Life owed her and life was in arrears. She was going to collect. As she slipped into the cheap black skirt and sweater (despising all they stood for) the three-week wait for her new wardrobe to be customed frustrated her. Why couldn’t Rubin have bought ready-made clothes at the Marché de Lafayette? Taking out the hairpins from the French knot, she shook her hair loose and replaced the barrette, tilted her head to one side, and looked in the mirror once again. In spite of the shabby clothes a new person was already emerging.
    It was a confident Magda who left the Chanel salon on the arm of Rubin Hack.
    When the taxi stopped in front of 47 Rue Pierre Charron, an impressive building, Magda did not resist, not this time. After Rubin had paid the fare, they entered the building. In the entry they stood on the deep carpet waiting for the lift. When it came down Rubin opened the door, pressed the button for the fourth floor, swept Magda up in his arms, kissed her, watching her eyes as they slowly wandered over the foyer. She was overwhelmed. She had not known that anything like this existed. It was impossible to believe she would ever be surrounded by such splendor. She walked from room to room, as Rubin followed her.
    The walls were muted rose, mauve silk, as were the damask draperies, tied back with heavy silk braided cords. They exposed the French doors from which could be seen the garden below and the Eiffel Tower beyond. The furnishings were all treasured French antiques. In the center of the floor lay a large Aubusson carpet. The oval walls of the dining room were painted with French pastel murals.
    When Magda saw the bedroom she felt almost faint She was so caught up in the magic that when she turned around and found Rubin standing there she was startled. In her eyes there was no gratitude, but she could no longer conceal her delight. It was there on her face, without words.
    “You are pleased? You like it?”
    I love it, I can’t believe it. It can’t be true. It will vanish … was what her eyes were answering back.
    “These are yours.” Cautiously she held out her hand as Rubin put the keys in her palm and closed her fingers around them.
    Searching his