The Devil's Sanctuary by Marie Hermanson Read Free Book Online Page B

Absurd. The staring eyes moving left and right like a toy’s. The overblown gestures: arms folded, head tilted, hands on hips. The red rubber-band mouth.
    And the pudgy, red-cheeked man with the accordion and the stupid hat had to be some sort of joke, surely. A parody of the worst clichés of alpine culture.
    The paradox was that the performance, in spite of its overemphatic nature and childish simplicity, was utterly incomprehensible. Daniel had never heard such a peculiar dialect. It was something to do with cows, he grasped that much. Cows and love. Mad! Mad and tasteless, yet simultaneously, Daniel was forced to admit to his own surprise, deeply fascinating. He sat there enchanted, unable to tear his eyes from the girl.
    When she had finished singing, she accepted the feeble applause with a curtsey, holding her skirt coquettishly between forefinger and thumb. Daniel thought the audience was being churlish, and he applauded loudly. The girl looked in their direction and blinked at him. Or possibly at Max?
    “Okay, let’s take our chance before they start up again,” Max said, getting up.
    He walked quickly toward the door. Daniel followed him, walking backward, still clapping and without taking his eyes from the singer.
    When they reached the door the accordionist played a long, drawn-out note, and they started to sing a duet, but Max had already dragged Daniel into the garden, where rows of red and green lanterns swung among the leaves of the trees, then out into the alley.
    “I’m sorry if I’m rushing you, but we have to be back in our rooms and cabins by midnight at the latest. That’s the only rule at the clinic.”
    “Who is she?” Daniel asked.
    “The singer? Her name’s Corinne. She’s at Hannelores Bierstube pretty much every night. Sometimes she sings, sometimes she serves drinks,” Max replied.
    They turned off the road and onto the path leading up through the patch of fir trees toward the clinic. It soon got dark when they left the lights of the village behind them, and the smell of the trees was intense. All of a sudden Daniel felt extremely tired.
    “Do you think the clinic could help me get a taxi first thing tomorrow morning?” he asked. “To take me to the nearest railway station?”
    “You’re leaving tomorrow? But you’ve only just gotten here!” Max exclaimed in disappointment, stopping on the path. “Most relatives stay a week.”
    “Well, I only planned—”
    “Yes, what had you planned? A free holiday in the Alps at my expense? Spend an hour visiting your crazy brother, then go off and have some fun?”
    “No. Well… I don’t know.”
    Daniel was so tired now that he couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t see how he was going to make it all the way back up the hill to Max’s cabin. His legs felt soft, like jelly. And the way his brother was talking was making him feel guilty. It was true that Max had actually paid for his trip.
    “Do what you want. But I’d really appreciate it if you stayed another day. There’s so much I want to show you,” Max said, suddenly sounding gentle and beseeching.
    They carried on up the steep path. Through the trees they could make out one of the modern steel and glass buildings of the clinic. Only the upper floor was lit up, which made it look like a hovering spaceship.
    “It really is lovely here,” Daniel said. “Do you know, to start with I thought your letter came from Hell. I misread the postmark.”
    Max burst out laughing, as though Daniel had said something incredibly funny. They were weaving through the trees and Daniel almost stumbled over a tree root, but Max caught hold of him, still laughing.
    “Wonderful! That’s wonderful! Do you know the story about the man who rowed the boat to Hell?”
    “No.”
    “Anna used to tell it to me when I was little. There was this man who was doomed to row the dead across the river to Hell. Back and forth, back and forth, for all eternity. He was utterly sick of it, but he didn’t