The Lightstep Read Online Free PDF Page B

to be a hero, these days, is to be a slave
to passion, I believe. It is merely a question of which passion one
is slave to. Which passion are you slave to, Captain? Is it anger? I
declare that you look as if you might be angry. Pray be unheroic
for a moment, Captain, and control it. Maria, you must continue.
I am sure that Icht is most interested.'
    The tall man was indeed becoming angry. He had understood
that he was being made a plaything. His cheeks were going
crimson as he stood there.
    Why had he come?
    'Maria?' Mother repeated. 'Are you dreaming, child?'
    ' What is it you see?' Maria read quickly. 'A spirit of the dead?' And
in the Prince's voice she answered herself, 'Not a spirit of the dead,
but the dreadful spirit of Liberty. Where is the power that . . .'
    'Observe, Baron,' Mother was saying. 'Our hero has perceived
a heroine, and is now rapt in a vision of beauty.'
    Maria's tongue stumbled. ' The power that – that can hurl it back
into the depths from which it came?' She was cringing inwardly, for
her own sake and for the sake of the man standing in the doorway.
Really, this was outrageous! What must he think? 'Who will
dare . . . '
    'No, Maria. I believe our hero must now read the Prince, and
you the woman only. Pass him the book. There is not another
copy, I believe. I hope not. It is a most inferior work . . .'
    'Madame!' the man exclaimed.
    No one spoke to Mother like that! Maria froze.
    She froze in the act of offering the book to the stranger, with
her finger marking the place and her face forming a reassuring
smile. She felt that smile fix itself on her face, as though her
muscles were suddenly a mask that was no longer a part of
her.
    'Madame,' said the newcomer tightly. 'I think you will permit
me to tell you that your son is dead.'
    'This is impossible.'
    Mother did not even seem to pause over his words.
    Maria was still looking up at the man, still holding out the
book to him, and trying to smile at him because he and she were
to read aloud together and be teased and criticized for it, and –
and . . .
    As if in a dream she could see nothing but his face, his hawklike
profile as he glowered down at Mother. She saw it very
clearly. There was a tiny spot of light reflected where his shining
forehead rounded back to his hairline. She had been going to do
something – say something or give him something – but she
could not remember what. Inside her something was screaming Alba! And something was answering: Impossible. She felt as if she
had swayed and almost fallen, and had only been saved by the
sound of mother's voice, firm and decided, pushing her back into
balance.
    The room restored itself. The world was the same. Icht was still
sitting bolt upright in his chair. Both he and Baron Löhm looked
aghast. Over by the press Müller, the secretary, was on his hands
and knees. He was surrounded by letters that he must have just
let drop on the floor.
    'I – wish it were not so,' the man was saying. 'But I must assure
you . . .'
    Oh Mother Mary, no! His words were like the opening of a
great, dark pit in the floor, swallowing her and all the house with it.
    Surely, no!
    Alba!
    'You meant my son Albrecht, I suppose,' said Mother.
    'I do. And I regret to tell you . . .'
    'I had thought it would be some such story,' she said calmly.
'No, it is ridiculous. We have only just had news of him, and he
is well. And now there is no more of this stupid fighting. That is
all. Maria, finish your reading please. Really it is inexcusable that
you have not.'
    Maria realized that she was still holding out the book. She
withdrew it. Her finger was on the place, but the lines had no
meaning. Her mind was clinging to her mother's words. It was
not true. Albrecht had sent them a letter. It had reached them
after news of the peace . . .
    What had been the date on his letter? Oh saints, please . . .
    'Madame,' said the newcomer earnestly. 'I do not know when
your news came to you. But it is my painful duty to tell you