My Clockwork Muse Read Online Free PDF

that the mysterious figure must
have been a Valentine, come to pay respects to one of their
own.
    Of course! , I thought, chuckling at my
foolishness. That imbecile Gessler had me jumping at shadows. Had I
not had enough of ghosts for one day?
    Out of respect for the mourner's privacy, I
contemplated turning back, but decided that I wouldn't mind a
little company, even if we had nothing to share but our grief, and
thus continued boldly along the path. But when I came to the corner
of the vault, I was shocked to see not a Valentine, but a
Coppelius.
    The daughter of Coppelius, that is. It was
Olimpia.
    It was a chilly autumn day, but she was
dressed as if it were the middle of winter. Her elegant coat nearly
touched the ground and she wore upon her head a luxurious
snow-white fur hat. She removed her hand from a matching muff long
enough to place a long-stemmed red rose on the ledge at the base of
Virginia's slab. Her lips and her flower seemed to be only splashes
of color in an otherwise dreary landscape of the dead.
    I looked down at my hand and saw that our
roses matched. I placed mine alongside hers, both of them standing
upright. She noticed me and looked up with watery, soulful
eyes.
    "To the most beautiful woman I have ever
known." The words spilled from me before I had time to consider
them, and I began to stammer like a fool. " Had ...ever known,
I mean. To the most beautiful woman I had ever known. To
Virginia..."
    The corners of Olimpia's mouth twitched
upward in a bewitching ghost of a smile. Of course, she had loved
Virginia as I had. Though it was her father, Dr. Coppelius, who had
tended Virginia through her illness, it was Olimpia who had often
remained at her bedside into the wee hours. She brought broth and
wine to ease her suffering and to keep her warm had replaced my old
military cloak with a new soft comforter. Throughout Virginia's
illness, I had grown so used to finding Olimpia at her side that
after Virginia's death I found that I missed her presence almost as
much as I missed Virginia herself.
    God help me for saying so, but it was
true.
    "She..." I began, feeling my cheeks grow hot.
"...Virginia, that is, expressed to me often how much she treasured
your visits, Miss Coppelius."
    Now her soft cheeks reddened. "My father..."
I heard her begin to say, but she spoke in such a low tone that the
rest of her words were lost to me, though I leaned in close to hear
her. As far as I knew, she never spoke in anything above a low
whisper. In all the time I had watched her tending Virginia and
listened to them conversing, I don't think I'd ever heard a single
intelligible thing fall from her lips.
    Her voice was nevertheless like music to me.
She seemed like something not of this world—though that might have
just been a fancy of mine, for I had never seen her outside the
context of the dead or the dying. In my mind, she had become a kind
of mythic being that straddled the chasm between the living and the
dead and not a mere flesh and blood woman.
    "And I can assure you," I said, hoping her
comment—"Times New Roman" \s 12whatever it had been—did not require
a direct response, "that she would appreciate your coming here. My
Virginia loved to have company. I wish you had known her before she
got sickR12 \f "Times New Roman" \s 12"
    "My father..." she said again before her
voice trailed off. I inclined my head to hear her words, but my ear
was filled only with the faint music of her unintelligible
voice.
    "Yes," I answered, "Dr. Coppelius, your
father. I would love to have you both as guests sometime. I see so
little of anyone now, and I did so enjoy the company of you and the
doctor. I would be honored to have you as guests to my house. I
don't have to be ill to warrant a visit, do I?"
    I tried to utter a casual little laugh, but
my nerves caused me to lose control of my voice and I feared I
might have cackled like a madman. I pursed my lips and leaned
forward, hoping for an audible reply.
    "Oh, of course not,