"Jack Dann - The Diamond Pit" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dann Jack)

nocturnes and etudes. I played Bach and Mozart and Beethoven. I expected
_something_ to happen. Someone besides Isaac to appear. Then I began playing
Erik Satie's piano works, which I loved: _Gymnopedies, Gnossiennes,
Peccadilles importunes_ -- Satie the joker, the dissonant, the genius; and I
heard a giggle behind me.
Saw reflections.
Phoebe stood before me, big as life, just as she stood beside and
behind me, reflections in a myriad mirrors, a company of lovely, fragile,
faun-like Phoebes looking awkward one instant and graceful the next. She wore
a white gown, a silk scarf draped carelessly -- or perhaps very carefully --
over her shoulder, and a fetching bonnet with a red sash. Her eyes were indeed
blue, her face was freckled, and she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever
seen.
She said something to Isaac, which sounded like, "_Ra'ase, nah'ye
haingwine heaightmuh_," and then she stood right by the piano and said, "Well,
Mr. Paul Orsatti, you can certainly play, and I told Poppa that if he didn't
bring you up out of that horrible place with those men, I'd never speak to him
again. You're a genius, that's just what I told him, and I told him you'd be
happy to teach me how to play the piano. I want to play as well as you, can
you do that for me?"
I was about to tell her that I didn't know, but she said something else
to Isaac, who looked sullenly down at the glassy floor.
"What did you say to him?" I asked.
"Just now, or before?" She looked steadily at me, and I could feel
myself blushing. I don't know why, but she made me feel like I was sixteen and
pimply and gawky and trying to get up the courage to ask out the prom queen.
She was just a wisp of a thing, her cheeks were freckled, and her curly blond
hair stuck out from under her bonnet. Yet she seemed completely self-assured,
as though she was accustomed to absolute obedience. And innocent. Perhaps it
was the combination that unnerved me. Or perhaps I had just instantly fallen
completely in love with her.
"I don't know," I said. "Both, I guess."
She giggled. "Well, I told him to calm himself down, that you probably
weren't going to hurt me or kill me or anything like that." She backed away a
step. "You're not, are you?"
"No, of course not."
"There, you see -- ? And then I told him -- "
"Yes?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out," she said. "Now do you want
to take me for a walk before you meet Poppa? He wants to have a talk with
you."
"What about your friend Isaac?"
"Oh, don't worry about him. He'll keep out of the way," and she turned
to him and glared. He quickly resumed looking at the floor.
"I'm Phoebe," she said as she led the way out of what she called the
Mirror Gallery. Isaac followed, keeping a safe distance.
"I know your name."
"Ah, those awful men in the pit told you, did they." It wasn't a
question. "I hate them."
"Why?"