"This is your room," Maria, a short stout woman with mouse-brown hair and gray-blue eyes opened a room in front of me with a light canopy curtain around a marriage bed by high windows in a bright friendly room. The room was warm and friendly in contrast to Maria Roth. She was quiet, talked only when she had to, was unfriendly and had eyes like freshly cast steel. "David will get your suitcases in a minute. You can go to the stove. Cook something. The kids are hungry." The woman turned to go. "Oh, yes," close in front of me she stopped. "No smoking in here. Second, no visitors in my house, third, you're just the housekeeper. That's all. If you have any trouble, please contact my husband. Mario. When he's not here, my brother Marco. You'll understand the rest. In ten minutes, downstairs in the kitchen. The kids are there. You watch them. You're still very young and..." she eyed me disapprovingly for a moment. Then she disappeared. Only later would I understand her last words. Suddenly I heard children's screams. Then Maria's soft, insistent voice. Silence. I wanted to go back to the room and bumped into someone. I looked up at him. A dark-haired pale man with ice-gray eyes in a motionless and beautiful face as if made of planed marble. He held out his hand to me while obviously forcing himself to smile, only the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. I took it. A limp handshake under soft and cool fingers. "Dalibor - and who are you?"
Merci pour la lecture!
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