Sustenance Read Online Free PDF Page A

satisfied that the logs were starting to burn. “If you need anything more, please press the button by the door,” he said, putting the fire-screen back in place, and going away.
    “Thank you,” Charis called after him, then added milk to her coffee and tasted it, knowing it was still very hot. She set the cup down and rubbed her tongue on the roof of her mouth, feeling the first onset of interview-jitters take hold. Somewhere in the house, a clock sonorously rang the half-hour. It was the time appointed for her interview; in spite of all her good intentions, Charis began to fret. She drank her coffee and added more from the pot.
    Some five minutes later, she heard crisp footsteps approaching through the entry hall, and thinking this was Rogers coming to fetch her, she reached for her briefcase, preparing to rise.
    A moment later, a man of slightly less than average height, graceful yet sturdily built, came through the door. He appeared to be in his middle forties, had well-cut dark hair with a slight feathering of gray at the temples, and an angled arch to his brows; his face was more attractive than handsome, with a broad forehead and a slightly askew nose, his eyes an arresting, strange blue-black. He was dressed in a black suit of understated elegance. His shirt was off-white and obviously silk, as was his dark-red damask tie. His waistcoat had a subtle pattern of what looked like wings in its fine black wool. “Professor Treat. Thank you for waiting,” he said in English with a faint accent she was unable to identify. “And I apologize for the early hour, but I will be leaving Copenhagen tomorrow and wanted to see you before I left, which is why I suggested an eight-thirty appointment.” His voice was low and musical, and his manner, though formal, was welcoming.
    “Grof Szent-Germain,” she said, recovering herself, and, starting to rise, held out her hand, while struggling to get out of the deep sofa cushions.
    He came closer and took it, bowing slightly. “A pleasure, Professor Treat. Welcome to Eclipse Publishing. I trust your journey was a pleasant one.”
    “Thank you,” she said, standing up a bit awkwardly. “The cab-driver smoked a great deal.”
    “And your journey from America?” he asked.
    “When is a long flight ever comfortable?” she asked, wanting to seem more broadly traveled than she was.
    He offered a wry half-smile, saying, “I concur, especially over water,” then motioned to her to be seated, and took his place on the sofa opposite hers. “Before we begin, let me assure you that I am aware of the lamentable developments in the United States. It is a difficult time for academics in your country, is it not?”
    “America has always had a streak of anti-intellectualism in its make-up,” she said, using her lecture tone. “When the people are frightened, they often seek refuge in religion and reject science. Science is not often comforting.”
    “They reject knowledge out of fear,” he added.
    “Out of fear,” she agreed.
    He shook his head. “I hope you are finding a better reception here in Denmark. And in Paris, for that matter.”
    “I hope so; most everyone has been polite, but I don’t speak Danish, and that is a problem for me,” she said, and reached for her coffee-cup to finish what was left in it, wanting her throat to be less dry. “I have pretty good French.”
    “The French will appreciate that,” Szent-Germain said with a sardonic lift of one eyebrow.
    Charis managed an uneasy chuckle.
    “I’ve noticed you have the name Lundquist in your query-letter,” he went on in the same easy manner.
    “My maiden name,” she said, and felt herself blush. “With my situation being what it is, I don’t want my … political difficulties to reflect poorly on my husband or my sons. By my using my maiden name, Harold can protect his place at Tulane.”
    “I thought it might be something of the sort,” Szent-Germain told her in a deliberately neutral tone. “If