The Butterfly and the Violin Read Online Free PDF Page B

the coat. She ran her wrist over the softness of the ivory satin lining. “It’s beautiful.”
    “It’s his wife’s.”
    She nodded. “She’s taken great care with it. It’s probably from before the war, isn’t it? It looks like an opera coat.”
    “It’s all they had.” His voice was quiet and unusually rough. It sounded laden with emotion.
    “Vladimir.” Adele’s heart felt heavy. “I’ve taken her best coat, haven’t I?”
    Vladimir didn’t acknowledge the truth. He looked back at her with an all-too-evident softness in his features and whispered, “Come on. I’ve got to get you home.”

CHAPTER FOUR

    M arina Von Bron declared her daughter to be nothing less than a perfect vision in her ball gown.
    The specially purchased champagne satin had been flown in for the occasion all the way from Berlin, and tailors had labored throughout the week to ensure the shoulder-grazing design had been perfectly stitched down to the very last shimmery detail. Now Adele stood in front of her boudoir mirror, feeling like a statue as her mother flitted about, dousing her with flowery perfume and touching up the last of her makeup for the concert.
    “Here, my darling daughter.” She plucked a tube of lipstick from the vanity and motioned for her to push out her chin. “Pucker.”
    Adele did as she was told and received a thick layer of cherry red to stain the natural pout on her lips. She rubbed them together and made a soft pop when she parted them.
    “Lovely,” Marina declared, and turned to raid the jewelry box on the bureau. “You’re wearing cocktail gloves tonight?”
    Her mother tossed the lighthearted question over her shoulder, her French accent bubbly. Adele couldn’t help but feel startled at the mention of the gloves and tried to cover quickly.
    “Just until we go onstage.”
    “Oh yes, they’re quite nice. Can you imagine appearing at a Vienna Philharmonic concert without gloves? I know you cannot play in them, of course, but they are proper to wear the rest of thetime.” She made a tsk tsk noise under her tongue as she continued searching through the jewelry box and mumbled, “Ah . . . Cherie! Where are those pearl earrings?”
    After a few seconds, she turned with a victorious smile, holding up pearl studs.
    “Your grandmama’s earrings,” Marina chirped happily, and began tugging at Adele’s earlobes. “She wore them on a night like this—the very night she met your grandfather. I hope you should have as much luck as she did.” Her mother’s voice trailed off as the earrings were slipped into her lobes and attention was given to the last details of her hair. “There will be hearts breaking for you all over Austria tonight.”
    Surely her mother could hear the audible beat of her heart. The woman was making idle conversation; how could she know that the words were cutting into Adele’s chest, frightening her all the more?
    Marina leaned to the side, meeting her gaze in the reflection of the glass. “Adele? Have you a young man, then?”
    Yes. His name is Vladimir.
    His name is Vladimir and I’m dying inside because I don’t know if he’ll show up tonight . . . if he’ll stay in Vienna . . . if he’ll even be alive tomorrow.
    When Adele shook her head, her mother turned to busy herself with brushing the back of her skirt, fearful as always that she should appear the least bit wrinkled in public.
    “Ah well, do not worry. You shall have one after tonight. A young Austrian from the city. Or perhaps a German officer? I know that one or two have asked your father if they could come calling. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
    Adele looked back at their reflection in the mirror, shocked at her mother’s nonchalance. There her mother was, preening as if their greatest worry in the world was planning a future wedding party. How delusional was she? Did she not know whatwas happening outside their window? Did she not hear the rapid cadence of gunfire tearing through the streets at night?
    The