It's not true, they'll kill you. Because I told them who I was. They'll come here ' they'll '
They won't. He forced her to look at him again, They won't. Be reasonable. I'm a banker. They need me. They're not going to hurt me, or my family. Didn't they let you go yesterday when you told them who you were? She nodded mutely, but they both knew that she would never feel safe again.
I disgraced you. It was her only refrain.
Stop it! Now it's over. It was a nightmare. An ugly, horrible nightmare, but it's over. Now you must wake up! But to what? Dolff gone? The same nightmare all over again? There would only be emptiness, and added to that, pain, and a horror that she knew she would never forget. All she wanted to do was sleep. Forever. A deep black sleep from which she would never have to wake. I have to go to the office for two hours, for the Belgian meeting, and then I'll be back and I'll stay with you all day. Will you be all right? She nodded. He bent low next to her and kissed the long, delicate fingers of her left hand, I love you, Kassandra. And everything will be all right again. He left orders with Anna to bring her a light breakfast, leave it on a tray next to her bed, and then go. And whatever she saw was not to be discussed with the other servants.
Anna nodded sagely and delivered the breakfast half an hour later to Kassandra's side. It was the breakfast tray Kassandra used every morning, of white wicker, covered with a white lace cloth. A single bud vase held a long red rose, and the breakfast service had been her grandmother's favorite Limoges. But Kassandra said nothing when the tray appeared. It was only after Anna left the room that Kassandra took an interest, seeing the morning paper tucked into the side basket of the tray. She had to see it, had to maybe some small item would appear. Some few words that would tell her something of Dolff's fate. Painfully, she struggled up to one elbow and unfurled the paper on the bed. She read every line, every page, every story, and unlike Walmar, her eyes found the story on the back page. It said only that Dolff Sterne, novelist, had had an accident in his Bugatti and was dead. As she read it, she cried out, and then suddenly the room was filled with silence.
She lay there very still for almost an hour, and then resolutely she sat up on the edge of the bed. She was still shaky and very dizzy, but she made it to the bathroom and ran the tub. She stared into the mirror and saw the eyes that Dolff had loved, the had watched him dragged from the room, from his home, from his life and hers.
The bathtub filled very quickly, and she quietly closed the door. It was Walmar who found her there an hour later, her wrists slashed, her life gone, the bathtub filled with her blood.
Chapter 7
The dark brown Hispano-Suiza carrying Walmar von Gotthard; his children, Ariana and Gerhard; and Fr+nulein Hedwig rolled solemnly behind the black hearse. It was a gray February morning, and on and on since daybreak there had been mists and rain. The day was as bleak as Walmar and the children, sitting rigid, holding tightly to the hands of their beloved nurse. They had lost their pretty lady. The woman of the golden hair and lavender-blue eyes was gone.
Only Walmar fully understood what had happened. Only he knew how deeply and for how long she had been cleft. Not just between two men, but between two minds, two lives, two life-styles. She had never quite been able to adjust to the rigid rules of the life to which she had been born. Perhaps it had been a mistake to force her into the mold. Maybe he should have been wise enough to leave her to a younger man. But she had been so young, so free, so lovely, and so warm, so entirely what he had always dreamed of having in a wife. And other thoughts nagged at him. Maybe he had been wrong to keep her from the children.
As they rode mercilessly onward, Walmar cast an eye at the nurse to whom his children now belonged.
A rugged, sturdy face, kind eyes, strong hands. She had been the governess to his niece and nephew before this. Fr+nulein Hedwig was a good woman. But Walmar knew that, in part because of her, his wife was gone. She had been a woman without a cause or a reason to live after the tragedy of the day before. The loss of Dolff had been too shocking, the fear of what she had perhaps brought down on Walmar too great to bear. It was perhaps an act of cowardice, or madness, yet Walmar knew full well that it was more. The note she had left beside the bathtub had been written in a trembling hand. Only Good-bye ' I'm sorry ' K. His eyes filled with tears again as he remembered ' auf Wiedersehen, my darling ' goodbye'
The brown Hispano-Suiza halted finally outside the gates of the Grunewald cemetery, its gentle mounds of green bordered by bright flowers, its handsome stones staring solemnly at them beyond the rain that had begun again.
We're leaving Mama here? Gerhard looked shocked, and Ariana only stared. Fr+nulein Hedwig nodded. The gates opened and Walmar signaled the chauffeur to drive on.
The service had been brief and private in the Lutheran church in Grunewald, with only the children and his mother present That evening mention of Kassandra's passing would be printed in the press, attributed to sudden illness, an inexplicable bout of a lethal flu. She had always looked so fragile that it would not be difficult to believe. And the officials who knew would be too intimidated by Walmar to reveal the truth.
The minister from the Lutheran church had followed them to the cemetery in his own bedraggled car. They had been unable to hold the funeral in the Catholic church they normally attended. Her suicide had ruled out that possibility, but the Lutheran minister had been kind. Now he stepped quietly from his automobile, followed by Walmar's mother, the Baroness von Gotthard, emerging from her chauffeured Rolls. The two liveried Von Gotthard chauffeurs stood discreetly by as the casket was lowered from the hearse to the ground. A man from the cemetery was already waiting, his face somber, his umbrella unfurled, as the minister reached into his pocket, taking from it a small Bible that he had marked.
Gerhard was crying softly, clutching tightly to Fr+nulein Hedwig's and his sisters hands, and Ariana looked around her. So many markers, so many names. Such big stones, such large statues, so many hills, and such eerie-looking trees, In spring it would be green and pretty, but now, except for the patches of lawn over the coffins, it all looked so awful and so bleak. She knew as she watched them that she would never forget this day. The night before, she had cried for her mother. She had always been a little frightened by the dazzling beauty, those huge, sad eyes, and the shining hair. Fr+nulein Hedwig had always said not to touch her or they'd put a spot on her dress. It seemed so odd to leave her here now, in that box, out in the rain. It made Ariana sad to think of her, all alone, under one of the smooth green mounds.
Kassandra was to be buried in the Von Gotthard family plot. It was already populated by Walmar's father, his older brother, his grandparents, and three aunts. And now he would leave her with the others, his sparkling bride, the fragile wife of the elusive laughter and the wondrous eyes. His gaze shifted from the headstones to his children; Ariana looked only faintly like her mother, and Gerhard not at all. Ariana, with her long colt legs, stood beside him, wearing a white dress, white stockings, and the dark blue velvet coat with the ermine collar, trimmed with the remains of her mother's splendid coat Beside her stood tiny Gerhard, a portrait much like his sister, in short white trousers, white stockings, and the same dark blue. They were all Walmar had now, these two small children standing at his side. He vowed silently to protect them from the evil that had so brutally destroyed his wife. No matter what happened to his country, no matter how badly their values were betrayed, he would let nothing happen to the children. He would keep them safe from the venom of the Nazis until Germany was free again from Hitler and his kind. It couldn't take forever, and when the storm had passed, they would still be safe at home.
' to keep Your child, Father, in the eternal peace she has found now at Your side May rest in peace. Amen.
The five onlookers silently made the sign of the cross and stood quietly for a moment staring at the dark wood box. Walmar's and the minister's umbrellas stood high above them as the sky opened up its heart and cried, too. But none of them seemed to notice th
e rain as they stood there, as it fell around them in driving sheets. At last Walmar nodded and touched the children's shoulders gently.
Come now, children, we must go. But Gerhard wouldn't leave her; he only shook his head and stared.
In the end Fr+nulein Hedwig simply led him back into the car and lifted him inside. Ariana was quick to follow, with one last glance over her shoulder to where the box lay and where her father stood alone, now that Grandmother had also gone. The minister hurried back to his own car, and only Wahnar stood there, looking down at the coffin covered with a single wreath of large white flowers. There were orchids and roses, and lilies of the valley, all the flowers that she loved.
For an instant he wanted to take her with him, never to leave her in this place with the others who had been so unlike her. His aunts and his father and the older brother who had died at war. She had been so childlike, and she was still so young. Kassandra von Gotthard, dead at thirty. Walmar stood there, unable to believe she was no more.
It was Ariana who finally came to find him. He felt the small fingers lace into his own and looked down to see her standing there, her blue coat with the ermine collar drenched with rain.
We have to go now, Papa. We will take you home. She looked so old and wise and loving, her huge blue eyes a distant shadow of those others he had known. She cared nothing about the rain as she stood there. She only looked up at him, holding tightly to his hand. And then, silently, he nodded, his face wet with tears and winter rain. His Homburg was dripping water onto his shoulders, and the tiny hand was held fast within his own.
He didn't look back over his shoulder, and neither did the child. Hand in hand, they climbed silently into the Hispano-Suiza, and the chauffeur closed the door. The men of Grunewald cemetery then slowly began to cover Kassandra von Gotthard's coffin until it, too, would become a green mound, to rest with all the others who had come before her and whom she had never known.
Book Two
ARIANABERLIN
Chapter 8
Ariana? He stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. If she didn't hurry, they would be late. Ariana! The nursery floor lay above him, transformed now into rooms more suitable for teenagers. Now and then he had thought of moving the children downstairs to be near him, but they had grown accustomed to their own floor, and he had never been able to bring himself to reopen his wife's rooms. The doors to Kassandra's empty apartment had stood closed for seven years.
The clock chimed the half hour, and then, as though on cue, light flooded the upper hall. As he looked up, she stood there, a vision in layers of white organdy, with a spray of tiny white roses woven into her golden hair. Her long neck was like ivory rising above the snowy dress, her features a perfectly carved cameo, and as she looked at him, her bright blue eyes danced. Slowly, she came down the stairs to him, as Gerhard grinned from above her, peeking from what had once been their playroom door. He broke the spell of the moment, calling down to his father, who waited, stunned, at the bottom of the stairs, She looks good, doesn't she? For a girl. Both Ariana and her father smiled then. Walmar nodded and cast his son a tired smile.
I'd say she looks extraordinary, for a girl. Walmar had just turned sixty-five that spring. And times weren't easy, not for a man of his years, or for anyone these days. The country had been at war for almost three years now. Not that it changed how they lived. Berlin was still vivid with beauty and excitement, almost to the point of frenzy, with constant parties, theater, opera, and endless novel forms of entertainment that he found tiring for a man of his age. In addition there was the constant strain of maintaining order for his family, running his bank keeping clear of trouble, and sequestering his children from the poison that now ran freely in the country's blood. No, it had not been easy. But so far he had managed every turn. The Tilden Bank was still solid, his relations with the Reich were good his life-style was still secure, and because of his importance as a banker as long as he continued to be useful to the Party, no one would disturb his children, or him.
When Ariana and Gerhard had reached the age when participation in a youth group was expected, it was quietly explained that Gerhard was having trouble with his studies, had a touch of asthma, and was agonizingly shy around children his own age. Ever since the death of his mother' of course you understand' and Ariana ' we're not at all sure she will ever recover from the shock. A noble widower of aristocratic background his two young children, and a bank. One needed nothing more to survive in Germany, except the patience to endure, the wisdom to be quiet, the willingness to be blind and mute.
He still remembered Ariana's horror when she had gone to see her mother's furrier one day three years after her mother's death. When she was a little girl, Rothmann, the furrier, had always given her hot chocolate and cookies, now and then some small mink tails. But when she had gone to find him, she had found instead a dozen men with armbands standing guard outside the store. It was dark and empty, the marquee torn, the windows smashed, the huge, luxurious emporium empty, and on the windows one single word Juden.
Ariana had run to her father's bank crying, and he had shut the door and been firm, You must tell no one, Ariana! No one! You must not discuss it or ask questions. Tell no one what you saw!
She had stared at him in confusion. But other people saw it, too. The soldiers, they were all standing outside with guns, and the window ' and, Papa ' , I know it I saw blood!
You saw nothing, Ariana. You were never there.
But
Silence! You had lunch today with me, in the Tiergarten, and then we came back to the bank. We sat in here for a while, you drank a cup of hot chocolate, and then the chauffeur drove you home. Is that quite clear? She had never seen him like that, and she didn't understand. Was it possible that her father was frightened? They couldn't touch him. He was an important banker. And besides, Papa wasn't Jewish. But where had they taken Rothmann? And what would happen to his store? Do you understand me, Ariana? Her father's voice had been raised harshly, almost angrily, yet she had sensed that he was not angry at her.
I understand. And then in a little voice that pierced their silence, But why?
Walmar von Gotthard sighed and sank back into his chair. It was a large, impressive office, an enormous desk, and across from him, despite the fact that she was twelve, Ariana looked so small. What could he tell her? How could he explain?
A year after that incident the worst had happened. In September war had come. Since then he had steered his own course with caution, but he knew that it had paid off. The children were safe and protected. Gerhard was twelve and a half now, and Ariana just sixteen. Very little had changed for them, and although the children always suspected that he hated Hitler, it was a suspicion they never discussed, not even with each other. It was dangerous to admit that one hated Hitler. Everyone knew that.
They still lived in the house in Grunewald, went to the same schools, attended the same church, but they seldom visited other people's homes. Walmar kept a tight rein on them for their own sake, he explained carefully, and it made sense to them. After all, the country was at war. Everywhere were uniforms, laughing soldiers, pretty girls, and at night they sometimes heard music when their neighbors gave large parties for officers and friends. In some ways, all over Berlin it was a time of gaiety beyond measure. In other ways the children knew that it was sad, too. Many of their friends' fathers were off fighting. Some of them had already lost fathers and brothers to the war. But for Ariana and Gerhard, despite other children's teasing, it was a relief to know that their father was too old. They had already lost their mother, they couldn't have borne to lose him, too.
But you're not too old for parties, Ariana had told Walmar with a waiflike smile. This was the spring of her sixteenth birthday, and she desperately wanted to attend her first ball. She was old enough to remember that while her mother was alive her parents had been very social. But in the seven years since her passing, Walmar had spent almost every waking moment either at his bank or at home in his rooms or
with them playing cards. The life of balls and parties had ended when Kassandra took her own life. But the children knew very little of their mother. The facts of how and why their mother died were painful truths that Walmar had never shared. Well, Papa? Can we? Please? She had looked at him so pleadingly, and Walmar had smiled.
A ball? Now? During the war?
Oh, Papa, everyone else goes to parties. Even here in Grunewald they stay up all night. It was true even in their staid residential district, the carousing went on regularly into the wee hours.
Aren't you a little young for that?
Hardly. She had stared down her nose at him, looking oddly like his mother rather than her own. I'm sixteen.
At last, with the assistance of her brother, Ariana had prevailed, and now she stood there, like a princess in a fairy tale, wearing the white organdy dress Fr+nulein Hedwig's expert fingers had made.
You look so lovely, darling.
She smiled, childlike, at him, admiring the white tie and tails. So do you.
But Gerhard was still watching, and they heard him giggle from the top of the stairs. I think you both look silly. But he looked proud of them, too.
Go to bed, you monster. She shouted it gaily over her shoulder as she tripped lightly down the last flight of stairs.
The Hispano-Suiza had been replaced just before the war had come with a black and gray Rolls, and now it waited for them in the driveway, the elderly chauffeur standing beside the door. Ariana had a light wrap around her shoulders, and the white dress swirled around her as she swept into the car. The party was being held at the Opera House, and all the lights were blazing as the Von Gotthards approached. The broad boulevard looked as beautiful as ever; Unter den Linden had not been changed by the onset of war.
The Ring Page 6