swan. She had all the possibilities …
Solange sat in the bergère , facing Magda. Rubin seated himself on the settee across from them.
“You are from Bucharest?” the Countess said.
Her eyes direct, her voice steady, Magda answered, “Yes.”
“A beautiful city, Bucharest.”
“My recollections of it are otherwise,” replied Magda. Rubin had said to be herself.
Solange moistened her lips …Ah, this one had spirit She liked that. “Well, my dear Magda, you’d be surprised how a city can change in a very short time. Even Paris can be ugly. It all depends on the window you see it from …”
Rubin rang for tea. “Solange, would you care for sherry?”
“That would be nice, merci .”
“And you, Magda, dear?”
“Absinthe.”
Rubin frowned. Magda was deliberately trying to be shocking. “I’m sorry, we have no absinthe,” he said.
“Then I will have coffee. Sherry is much too mild.”
A smile touched Solange’s mouth. She understood every nuance in Magda’s words, her voice. Magda did not like being patronized. Her insecurity was apparent. Solange, after all, was the enemy, and not a little bit threatening. Solange looked at Rubin and her eyes flashed a message: Patience, dear friend. All things worth achieving come with time and hard work. Sipping her sherry, the Countess said to Magda, “Rubin tells me you have an extraordinary voice.”
“He’s right,” she answered, glaring at the Countess.
Solange was inwardly amused, and disregarded the rebuff. “He is about most things,” she answered.
Magda took the words as an affront. She didn’t like the Countess, and she would tell Rubin so later. She would not be treated like a stupid peasant. “Did he also tell you that I sang the lead at the opera in Bucharest? My last role was Carmen.”
My God, Rubin thought, what is she doing? Why is she acting so belligerent …Solange couldn’t be more kind.
Mignon wheeled in the tea cart, steering it to Magda, as her mouth fell open in shock. Was this the little strumpet who had gone off with Rubin earlier today? Impossible! Mignon left the room totally bewildered. Such a transformation!
But transformations had become a way of life for Magda during the last few days. She looked at her actions, her manners, as she’d never done before. No need to. Before she’d met Rubin, she’d been content with herself, satisfied with the café society that adored her. She had survived, after all, and reached the heights of her own tiny world. But now, suddenly, she could be a different Magda, detached from herself, scrutinizing her every emotion. What she felt toward the Countess at this moment was close to hatred … the Countess made her feel so inadequate, so ignorant. In fact, sitting here, even Rubin made her feel that way. The only time she felt herself his equal, in fact, his superior, was when they made love. But just wait, she thought. I’ll give you a run for your money, Rubin Hack …And you, Countess. I’ll show you how fast Magda Charascu of Bucharest can learn … I’m ready, teach me. Lesson one.
“Will you have tea or coffee, Countess?”
“Coffee, my dear.” Chuckling inwardly, Solange thought, this little one learns quickly.
“Cream?”
“Please, and two lumps of sugar.”
Magda handed the Countess her cup with a flourish. “Rubin,” she said, “tea?”
“Yes, please.” He answered with more annoyance than he intended.
But Magda pretended not to notice. Nothing, however, went unnoticed by the Countess. Magda was like a chameleon, cleverly changing her colors to camouflage her feelings, and the Countess was enjoying the performance.
There followed some light banter, mostly between Solange and Rubin. They discussed Emile, the years past, the fun and excitement they’d had. They exchanged little jokes between themselves. The conversation was scarcely heard by Magda, who had a headache. A real one.
Getting up, she asked to be excused, going directly to the bedroom. Once
Solange sat in the bergère , facing Magda. Rubin seated himself on the settee across from them.
“You are from Bucharest?” the Countess said.
Her eyes direct, her voice steady, Magda answered, “Yes.”
“A beautiful city, Bucharest.”
“My recollections of it are otherwise,” replied Magda. Rubin had said to be herself.
Solange moistened her lips …Ah, this one had spirit She liked that. “Well, my dear Magda, you’d be surprised how a city can change in a very short time. Even Paris can be ugly. It all depends on the window you see it from …”
Rubin rang for tea. “Solange, would you care for sherry?”
“That would be nice, merci .”
“And you, Magda, dear?”
“Absinthe.”
Rubin frowned. Magda was deliberately trying to be shocking. “I’m sorry, we have no absinthe,” he said.
“Then I will have coffee. Sherry is much too mild.”
A smile touched Solange’s mouth. She understood every nuance in Magda’s words, her voice. Magda did not like being patronized. Her insecurity was apparent. Solange, after all, was the enemy, and not a little bit threatening. Solange looked at Rubin and her eyes flashed a message: Patience, dear friend. All things worth achieving come with time and hard work. Sipping her sherry, the Countess said to Magda, “Rubin tells me you have an extraordinary voice.”
“He’s right,” she answered, glaring at the Countess.
Solange was inwardly amused, and disregarded the rebuff. “He is about most things,” she answered.
Magda took the words as an affront. She didn’t like the Countess, and she would tell Rubin so later. She would not be treated like a stupid peasant. “Did he also tell you that I sang the lead at the opera in Bucharest? My last role was Carmen.”
My God, Rubin thought, what is she doing? Why is she acting so belligerent …Solange couldn’t be more kind.
Mignon wheeled in the tea cart, steering it to Magda, as her mouth fell open in shock. Was this the little strumpet who had gone off with Rubin earlier today? Impossible! Mignon left the room totally bewildered. Such a transformation!
But transformations had become a way of life for Magda during the last few days. She looked at her actions, her manners, as she’d never done before. No need to. Before she’d met Rubin, she’d been content with herself, satisfied with the café society that adored her. She had survived, after all, and reached the heights of her own tiny world. But now, suddenly, she could be a different Magda, detached from herself, scrutinizing her every emotion. What she felt toward the Countess at this moment was close to hatred … the Countess made her feel so inadequate, so ignorant. In fact, sitting here, even Rubin made her feel that way. The only time she felt herself his equal, in fact, his superior, was when they made love. But just wait, she thought. I’ll give you a run for your money, Rubin Hack …And you, Countess. I’ll show you how fast Magda Charascu of Bucharest can learn … I’m ready, teach me. Lesson one.
“Will you have tea or coffee, Countess?”
“Coffee, my dear.” Chuckling inwardly, Solange thought, this little one learns quickly.
“Cream?”
“Please, and two lumps of sugar.”
Magda handed the Countess her cup with a flourish. “Rubin,” she said, “tea?”
“Yes, please.” He answered with more annoyance than he intended.
But Magda pretended not to notice. Nothing, however, went unnoticed by the Countess. Magda was like a chameleon, cleverly changing her colors to camouflage her feelings, and the Countess was enjoying the performance.
There followed some light banter, mostly between Solange and Rubin. They discussed Emile, the years past, the fun and excitement they’d had. They exchanged little jokes between themselves. The conversation was scarcely heard by Magda, who had a headache. A real one.
Getting up, she asked to be excused, going directly to the bedroom. Once
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