eyes. She was about twenty-three, much more awkward than she'd been in the dreams, and, like Lydia when Lydia knew nobody would see her, wore eyeglasses. "Don Simon told me I'd find you here."
Chapter Four
A waltz from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker ballet had been popular in Vienna the year Asher spent in and out of that city. Closing his eyes to the lulling rock of the train, Asher could hear it again, drawing in its colored wake the bright glimmer of gaslight in the Cafe New York on the Opernring during Carnival season, the sparkle of snow on the pavements, the slurry patter of French and Italian and Viennese German all around. Court gossip and psychoanalysis, music and politics and whose wife was betraying whom. Thirteen years later it was still as clear as yesterday.
Young matrons in their masks and costumes questing nervously for unspecified excitement. Uniformed officers, gay in swords and spurs and braid.
Francoise.
"Nothing here is as it seems," she had said the night he walked with her to the cafe after a St. Valentine's Ball given by her brother; and that, at least, he had known was true about himself.
She was a thin-faced woman of his own age, his own height; though to be thirty- five and almost six feet tall, and of a strong cast of feature, had always been something only considered attractive in men. Her brother was a director of the biggest bank in Vienna and owned farms, vineyards, blocks of flats in the Seventh District. His wife, the second daughter of a baron, had been trying for years to marry Francoise off in diplomatic circles.
Asher wondered if she had ever married. Had ever trusted another man.
"People pass the days away in cafes like this, sipping coffee, reading the feuilletons, watching the world go by." She moved one shoulder in a graceful shrug, her smile rueful and a little sad. She was a biscuit-colored woman, but the emeralds in her ear-rings caught sparkling echoes in her eyes. "Outsiders think it's all very relaxed, very gemutlich, but it's really because most of the people here live in one-room apartments, they and their families together, and they can't stand the smell of cooking and dirty diapers and the arguing of their children. So they come here and look leisured and carefree because that is exactly what they are not.
"We here in Vienna have a hundred separate degrees of nobility and bureaucrats, titles and order and neatness and rules, and underneath, the Slovenes and Serbs and Czechs and Moldavians and Muslims are all clamoring to have their own nations, their own schools, their own languages, their own crowns. They bomb and shoot and riot and scheme with the Russians and the British and whoever else they think will help them break free."
Her big hands in long gloves of ivory kid darted, as if forming illustrative patterns that Asher could not see. He had first encountered her at a Twelfth Night ball in his guise as a professor of folklore. Folklore was always popular in Vienna, the more bizarre the better, and in exchange for arcana on Japanese werewolves and Chinese milkweed fairies, Asher had met a number of the aforesaid Serbs and Czechs and Moldavians and was beginning to find out just who they were scheming with on the subject of riots, bombs, and freedom from Austrian control. He hadn't really needed to seek out Francoise a second time.
But he had.
"When we complain," she went on, "it isn't really a complaint. When we weep, it isn't necessarily out of pain; and when we dance, it isn't always for joy. Yes isn't really yes, and no is seldom no, and the palaces you see mostly aren't really palaces, and everyone talks about everything except what really consumes their thoughts."
Her dark brows drew down over those bright green eyes as she considered him, skirting the brink of questions that she wasn't sure she wanted answered or even asked.
"We don't always know whether what we're seeing is real or a mask."
Asher's eyes had met hers, and he hadn't known what to reply.
I spoke to you last week to find out which of your young officer friends are deepest in debt.
I'm here to learn things that could get your armies defeated, your country disgraced, your friends and nephew killed.
I think I love you.
He wasn't sure just when that last had happened.
For a time they regarded one another without masks. Even now, looking back on it from the edge of dreaming, Asher didn't know