Fallen Sparrow Read Online Free PDF

hair about her shoulders. If he could have seen her legs he’d have been certain.
    Content wasn’t alone now in the ring of light that turned her hair amber. There was a young man with a violin under his chin and the face of a dark Pan. The noisy tables waited in incongruous silence. Content sang to the violin and it answered with unspeakable heart-quivering beauty. The hands of the room made deafening response.
    Kit whispered, “Who is that?”
    “That’s José.”
    “José?”
    “José—something Spanish,” Ab said. “Another refugee. But he’s earning his keep. God, the man can play.”
    The diners were clamoring, “Tsigane! Tsigane!” José smiled into Content’s eyes. She shook her head, her blonde hair, short below her ears, curled under slightly, the way she’d worn it when she was an underfoot brat at Hamilton garden parties. She was younger than the rest of them.
    The audience’s insistence beat against her refusal. Kit watched her; she seemed to be looking directly at him. José raised dark brows and she began to sing recitative. The violin answered in brilliant coloratura. If the room had been quiet before, now it was a void. Mad music, wild incredible pagan music; for those breathless moments Content’s voice was lifted into greatness by the accompaniment. Silence, utter silence, and then noise crashed in thunderous, bombing salute.
    Kit shook his head. That was what the Athenians meant by catharsis. He looked towards Barby but he couldn’t find her eyes. Ab’s voice beside him said, “It’s obscene.”
    He was actually startled.
    Ab laughed a little. “I mean that Content can do that. She doesn’t mean a word of it.”
    Kit brought himself to earth. “I suppose José’s her refugee. She picked a good one.” And then Barby saw him. He pushed back his chair. He wanted to touch her in the echoes of beauty. “Would you dance with me even if I am incognito?”
    “But of course.” She rose.
    He had her in his arms before he realized that Otto Skaas wasn’t in his chair and that might account for her acceptance of him. He didn’t want to think it, that things had changed that much. He didn’t want to think at all; he wanted to absorb her.
    She made words as if their silence on the overcrowded floor was too intimate. “Content’s improved, hasn’t she?”
    “She’s surprisingly good.” He didn’t know if she’d improved; he hadn’t heard her sing before. “And the fellow.”
    “José’s a genius.” She tossed that away. “She’s just come back from Hollywood. Screen test. It’ll be good. She’s so sure of herself.” She said it as if she weren’t sure of herself, as if she envied that. “She always was, even as a child.”
    At that moment he saw the strange girl again, not mistaking the back of her head although her legs were hidden in the wide black taffeta skirt. He turned Barby. “Who is she?”
    “The one dancing with Otto?”
    He was annoyed. He hadn’t noticed the partner; it was Otto Skaas. “Yes.”
    Barby’s voice was far away. “I believe she works at Det’s. She’s Prince Felix’s grand-daughter—from Paris.” Her eyes came up to meet his. They were faintly troubled. “You’d like to meet her?”
    “No.” He’d said the right thing. Barby didn’t want him to want to meet her. Was she jealous? “No, darling. I don’t want to meet anyone but you.”
    But she withdrew from his tightening arm. “It’s too hot here to dance. Shall we return to the table?”
    He couldn’t find out now what was troubling her. He had to be alone with her for that. He sat down beside her in Otto’s chair. He asked casually, “Who are the Skaases, darling?”
    She stared at him as if she didn’t believe the question was asked seriously. “Christian Skaas is the Norwegian chemist. You know of him.”
    “And Otto?”
    He was right. It was Otto troubling her. The expression was there again.
    “He’s Dr. Skaas’ nephew. He had a horrible time escaping from