The Silver Swan Read Online Free PDF

the pianist William Rossen. He and Rossen planned to start rehearsals the next day. The dinner was a pleasant one. Over Thai food they talked about financial regulation and how it might affect Swiss banks, the death of Alexander, the volcano erupting in Iceland, and the health of the conductor James Levine. Claude wished he could turn the conversation to the subject of Mariana to find out more about her, but he could not find a subtle way to do so. When he returned to the hotel, a message awaited him. His mother had arrived and would see him for breakfast at nine.

    The next morning, at the hotel restaurant, the maître d’ escorted them to a cloth-covered table near a window.
    “Well” — Francine settled back in her chair — “we have had a great surprise,
mon petit
, you’ve received a remarkablegift. And an unexpected one. I had no idea my old friend would be so generous to you.”
    Claude, hair still wet from the shower, played with the teaspoon in his cup. “Maman, did you really not know of this in advance? I assumed, somehow, you did.”
    “No, darling, really not, though of course I always wished you would have such a great instrument, and I did wonder what Alexander would do with the Swan after Mariana stopped playing.”
    “She hasn’t exactly stopped playing, Maman,” Claude said. “She’s been taking care of her father.” He paused. “Perhaps she intends to resume her career. That’s possible.”
    Francine ignored him. “I did wonder why we had been summoned to Boston by the lawyer, and I began to suspect there was a surprise in store. You know, of course, he was tremendously proud of you. Alexander always said you were his finest student.”
    “After Mariana,” Claude corrected her. “He spoke
most
highly of her.”
    “That’s true. But when she stopped playing, you became his great hope. Now, my darling,
you
are indeed the heir to his sound, his musical ideas, his virtuosity, and … his Stradivarius.”
    “I can’t pretend I’m not thrilled. I feel immensely fortunate. I could hardly sleep last night thinking about seeing the Swan today. But the way Mariana ran away made me feel guilty — as if we’d stolen it from her.” He looked at his mother and smiled. “Of course, I would not like to give it back.”
    “You will not be asked to. She knows this is what her father wanted.”
    “Maman, do you know why she gave up concertizing as a soloist? Perhaps — you were such intimate friends — M. Feldmann told you.” Claude paused. “It does seem strange to stop playing so abruptly in the midst of such a big career.”
    “Alexander never explained it to me. I think, perhaps, he didn’t even know the actual reason himself. But he always said it had something to do with her mother’s illness and death — that she was profoundly depressed.” Francine spread marmalade on her brioche and took a bite. “And,” she continued, a look of dark disapproval on her face, “it might have had something to do with the extremely shocking and ridiculously public affair she carried on for several years with the Russian conductor Anton Pietovsky — a married man, almost her father’s age. Everyone knew about it. Everyone talked about it. They traveled together and didn’t even try to hide their relationship. But then Pietovsky threw her over and went back to his wife.”
    “What happened to Mariana?” Claude asked, fascinated.
    “She was rumored to have suffered terribly from a broken heart.”
    “And stopped playing?”
    “Oh, who knows, darling. It’s none of our concern.” She paused to chew. “Don’t you remember how often Alexander would hint that one day the cello might be yours? Apparently, he wasn’t just teasing you.”
    “But I never thought he meant it. Did you?” He studied his mother’s face.
    “It would have come to his daughter, I’m certain, if she’d continued her career, but she chose to stop. What use would she have for the instrument now? To play it in