Pianist in the Dark by Michèle Halberstadt Read Free Book Online

his.
    “What has broken your heart?”
    She turned away from him without answering.
    “Is it solitude that is making your suffer?”
    She let out a bitter sigh but did not utter a word.
    “Is the sorrow so great that even the piano in the library is of no consolation?”
    She fell to his feet and started sobbing with renewed vigor. He leaned down to her, lifted her and held her in his arms as if she were a frightened child.
    “What is this look of horror? What is terrifying you so much?”
    She huddled against him, burying her head in his chest, shaking it left and right. He rocked her in his arms, stroking her hair. He stopped questioning her, waiting for her to calm down.
    He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her.
    “There, there ... Come now ... Maria Theresia, you have me worried ... Talk to me. Your sorrow is suffocating you. That’s why your body is quivering. It needs oxygen. You need to say what is making you suffer. I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”
    This almost made her smile, but it was a hint of a smile so disillusioned that his heart sank.
    “A man’s word no longer means anything to me. My father didn’t keep his word and here I am. I am lost, don’t you see? You’ve destroyed something and replaced it with nothing. I’m not blind, but I cannot see. I’m living in a muddled limbo where I can’t see much of anything and struggle to learn things that a three-year-old understands. I am no longer myself, but I haven’t become someone else.”
    Her voice was getting louder, her anger more acute. She started shrieking:
    “I can’t play any more, do you hear me? That’s what has happened, that’s what is suffocating me. Yes, I’m choking with anger! I don’t know how to play piano any more!”
    She stood up, fueled by the rage burning inside her, out of control.
    “When I sit at the keyboard, I see my hands and I freeze. My fingers have stopped obeying me. I stumble over notes. I’m off-key and imprecise! My playing is shoddy! I’ve lost my rhythm and my skill. Seeing has given me lead fingers! Do you hear? Lead! I didn’t ask anything of anyone but everyone wants to treat me. It’s the deal of the century! The stakes are high! Who wants to cure Mademoiselle Paradis? Step forward, mesdames et messieurs! Who wants a go? Does it make her ill? All the better! Cure her and you’ll have fame and glory! So why worry about one little lady when the world can be yours!”
    Fists clenched, she leaned over him and started pummeling him. He did not try to dodge her blows or to protect himself.
    “So that’s the way it is! You persuaded my father that you’d be the champion? I’m your trophy, right? You’ll pin my eyes to your vest. They’ll be your pride and glory! Take them! I don’t want these eyes any more. Make yourself a medal, a crown. I don’t want them, I don’t want anything, I just want to go home to some peace and quiet... .”
    The flow of her tears seemed never-ending. Her words became incomprehensible, incoherent. Her punches grew weaker and weaker until she wore herself out against his body, as he bore the brunt of her anger with a certain sadness.
    He was sure that she would eventually regain her musical skills and resume the course of her life with no damage other than the years wasted by her blindness. He was absolutely persuaded of this. But he could see the extent of her distress, and it left him shattered.
    It was the first time he’d felt anything like this. Until now he had contented himself to cure his patients without taking heed of their emotional tumult. He had treated major hysterics and egocentric neurotics whose illnesses kept them company. His patients all displayed their pain as well as their healing in a highly theatrical fashion. Convulsions, screaming, physical violence—their mental suffering lived inside them like a wild beast. They were under its influence. They couldn’t fight. It drained them of their willpower.
    Maria