The Clockwork Man by William Jablonsky Read Free Book Online Page A

His answer—a drawn-out, sleepy, “Eeeeeewwwwwww,” suggested this was not the proper thing to do.
    Giselle, who had witnessed our exchange, shook her head and sighed loudly. “Animal,” she said, drawing the used handkerchief from my pocket with two fingers and throwing it back at him. “Go back to bed.”
    “I will, when Father leaves,” he said.
    She looked back at me, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry Jakob is such a beast. Catch me.” She abruptly leaped into my arms, grasping my neck in a tight embrace. “I hope you enjoy your trip. I’ll miss you.”
    “And I you.”
    Jakob laughed. “Giselle’s in love with Ernst,” he said teasingly.
    “Oh, stop it,” she said. Turning back to me, she smiled broadly. “I’ll have something for you when you come back home.”
    “Thank you.” I suspect she means the collage of me, and if so I look forward to seeing it.
    Once the Master had gathered up all his essential documents, Fräulein Gruenwald wrapped his coat around his shoulders. “Do enjoy your trip, Mein Herr,” she said. “And do write this time. The children so look forward to your letters.”
    “I won’t forget,” the Master said. He called Giselle and Jakob to him, embracing each in turn, telling them he would miss them. Then, when he was ready, I picked up his luggage and carried it to the carriage outside. As we boarded the carriage a light rain began to fall, despite the patches of early morning sunlight, and the color of the world seemed muted but for my final memory of the Master’s home: Giselle in the doorway waving good-bye, the sunlight falling upon her in such a way that her skin, her hair, and the white fabric of her nightgown filled my vision with brilliant color.

II
FRAGILE THINGS
    19 November 1893
7:15 p.m.
    It has been some time since my last entry, and thus I must ask forgiveness for my dereliction; my travels with the Master have, for the past three weeks, been quite extensive, and I have been much distracted. But I mean to correct that, beginning here. Herr Gruber believes this experience will allow me to become a more well-rounded being, and thus far I have been given every reason to believe him. I have seen magnificent things, which I will, to the best of my powers of description, attempt to put into words.
    We first traveled by train to Dresden, where for several days the Master surveyed locations for a clock commissioned by the city. This proved to be something of a challenge, as the buildings are squeezed together so densely; while this has been a hindrance to him, after surveying the city with him from a hilltop and seeing the intimate clusters of homes and shops, I find its arrangement somehow comforting.
    Because his view from a carriage would be skewed, we walkedthe old narrow streets for several days before he decided on a spot near the
Frauenkirche
, an immense domed Baroque church with a bell tower that seemed to touch the sky itself. Perhaps a block away, there is a small thirty-by-forty grassy knoll which he believes will be perfect for his clock—a trio of ballerinas who, at the noon hour, circle one another in a series of pirouettes to Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata
. I had seen photographs of the city’s great arched bridges and stately theaters in books, but those fuzzy gray stills cannot capture the majesty of the real thing.
    Once he had finished the Master allowed me to choose a small souvenir from a vendor on
Neumarkt
Square; I passed over several scale replicas of the city’s great castles and churches in favor of a tiny porcelain dancer with red-gold hair, her limbs spread like butterfly wings. The Master asked me why I chose that particular piece; I told him I admired its fragility and grace. (In these pages I will freely admit it reminded me of Giselle, but were I to tell him this, I fear he would misunderstand my motives.)
    Then it was on to Vienna—a marvelous city full of ornate cathedrals, stately Baroque buildings trimmed with gold and crowned