Read The Goddess Abides: A Novel for Free Online Page A

off.
    “Perfect,” he said. “That’s where I want to see you, in a house that is your setting. This?” His arm swept the rugged room. “No!”
    And then as though he had settled an argument he went abruptly to the piano and began to play a resounding polonaise of Chopin’s creation, and she sank into the deep sofa before the fire and listened, entranced by his new interpretation of familiar music. By his emphasis he eliminated every hint of the pathos that underlay the music and made instead a triumphant assertion of life.
    “And what would Chopin have thought of that?” she inquired when he had finished as abruptly as he had begun and rising had come to stand over her, his brooding eyes upon her face.
    “I make all music my own,” he replied, not removing his gaze.
    And she kept smiling, half shy, half afraid. She did not know him. He was still a stranger. All the more dangerous then was this powerful attraction which had no basis in knowledge. She would have liked to ask him what his thoughts were and dared not. He spoke them without her asking.
    “I want you to come skiing with me tomorrow.”
    Her reply was instant. “I couldn’t possibly!”
    “Why not?”
    “Well, for one thing, I have no skis.”
    “We can rent them.”
    “I haven’t skied for years.”
    “That’s an argument for—and this is probably the last good snow of the year.”
    “It’s not good snow. Sam says the slopes are icy—warm sun melts them by day and freezes them by night.”
    “It might snow tonight. There are clouds on the mountaintop.”
    “And a shining moon!”
    “Let’s finish this argument in the morning.”
    “The answer will be the same.”
    “Not if snow falls in the night—no, don’t speak! I shan’t let you.”
    He put his hand over her mouth and held it there until, choking with laughter, she pulled it away.
    “God, what a soft mouth you have!” he exclaimed, wondering.
    “I’d have bitten your hand if it weren’t so hard,” she retorted. “And I don’t want to ski.”
    “Stop there,” he cried, “or I’ll do it again. I won’t take no for answer.”
    “You shan’t have yes, at any rate,” she retorted.
    “For tonight, then, let it be neither yes nor no.”
    She rose, half afraid. He looked at her steadily, speculating, but on what? She stepped back, he shook his head.
    “I don’t believe it,” he said.
    “What?” she asked.
    “Your age.”
    “You must believe it.”
    He shook his head again and then suddenly he reached for her hand, took it, turned it over and kissed the palm. “I’ll never believe it.”
    She stood, unresisting, astonished, the kiss in her hand an unexpected gift. He let her hand fall gently to her side.
    “Good night,” he said abruptly and crossed the room to the door of his room. There he paused.
    “I shall pray for snow,” he said and closed the door.
    …In the night the snow fell. She woke after a few hours of restless sleep and rose from her bed and drew aside the gold-colored draperies of the glass doors facing the mountain. The light of her bedside lamp was reflected upon a curtain of soft white flakes thickly falling. The terrace outside was already newly covered. She would never be able to resist his determination now, and already yielding she returned to her bed and slept.
    “My prayers are always answered,” he declared in the morning at the breakfast table.
    “But I still have no ski clothes,” she said.
    “All the more fun! We’ll outfit you at the ski shop, and get on our way. Come on, hurry up, no loitering over coffee, if you please! The sun is climbing fast. A good six inches of snow, though—”
    “You’re really rather domineering!”
    “It’s my nature,” he agreed cheerfully.
    He got up as he spoke, gathering dishes, began washing and drying and putting away while she watched, amused, and finished her coffee.
    “You’re very expert,” she said. “I’ve camped all over the world. Last year I was in the