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Incensed； I watched as the man withdrew。 Tall； his head shaven； his eyes bulging； he put his hands to his ears； and he cursed her： 〃Mad stupid bitch； mad mad selfish bitch。 Do I have no life？ Do I have no justice？ Do I have no dreams？〃
But she had flung her hands on the keys again。 She was racing right into the Second Movement of the Appassionata as though she had never been interrupted。 Her hands beat on the keys。 One furious volley of notes after another rose； as if written for no other purpose than to answer him； to defy him； as if to cry out； I will not stop； I will not stop…。
I saw what was to happen。 He turned around and glared at her； but it was only to let the rage rise to its fall power； his eyes wide； his mouth twisted in anguish。 A lethal smile formed on his lips。
Back and forth she rocked on the piano bench； her hair flying； her face lifted； her mind having no need to see the keys she struck； to plot the course of her hands that raced from right to left； that never lost control of the torrent。
Out of her sealed lips there came a low humming； a grinding humming right in tune with the melodies that gushed from the keys。 She arched her back and lowered her head； her hair falling down on the backs of her racing hands。 On she went； on into thunder； on into certainty； on into refusal； on into defiance； on into affirmation； yes； yes； yes； yes； yes。
The man made his move for her。
The frantic boy； leaving me in desperation； darted to e between them； and the man slammed him aside with such fury that the boy was knocked flat and sprawling on the floor。
But before the man's hands could reach her shoulders； before he could so much as touch her…and she went now into the First Movement again； ah； ah aaaah！ the Appassionata all over again in all its power…I had hold of him； and spun him round to face me。
〃Kill her； will you？〃 I whispered。 〃Well； we shall see。〃
〃Yes！〃 he cried out； face sweating； protuberant eyes glistening。 〃Kill her！ She's vexed me to utter madness； that's what she's done； and she'll die！〃 Too incensed even to question my presence； he tried to push me aside； his sights fixed already once again on her。 〃Damn you； Sybelle； stop that music； stop it！〃
Her melody and chords were in the mode of thunder again。 Flinging her hair from side to side； she charged onward。
I forced him backwards； my left hand catching his shoulder； my right pushing his chin up out of my way as I nuzzled in against his throat； tore it open and let the blood e into my mouth。 It was scalding and rich and full of his hatred； full of bitterness； fall of his blasted dreams and vengeful fancies。
Oh； the heat of it。 I took it in in deep draughts； seeing it all； how he had loved her； nourished her； she his talented sister； he the clever； vicious…tongued and tone…deaf brother； guiding her towards the pinnacle of his precious and refined universe； until a mon tragedy had broken her ascent and left her mad； turning from him； from memory； from ambition； locked forever in mourning for the victims of that tragedy； their loving and applauding parents； struck down on a winding road through a dark and distant valley in the very nights before her greatest triumph； her debut as full…fledged genius of the piano for all the wide world。
I saw their car rattling and plummeting through the darkness。 I heard the brother in the back seat chattering； his sister beside him fast asleep。 I saw the car strike the other car。 I saw the stars above in cruel and silent witness。 I saw the bruised and lifeless bodies。 I saw her stunned face as she stood unharmed； her clothes torn； by the side of the road。 I heard him cry out in horror。 I heard him curse in disbelief。 I saw the broken glass。 Broken glass everywhere glittering beautifully in the light of headlamps。 I saw her eyes； her pale blue eyes。 I saw her heart close。
My victim was dead。 He slipped out of my grasp。
He was as lifeless as his parents had been in that hot desert place。
He was dead and crumpled and could never hurt her again； could never pull her long yellow hair； or beat her； or stop her as she played。
The room was sweetly still except for her playing。 She had e again to the Third Movement； and she swayed gently with its quieter beginning； its polite and measured steps。
The boy danced for joy。 In his fine little djellaba； his feet bare； his round head covered with thick black curls； he was the Arab angel leaping into the air； dancing； crying out； 〃He's dead； he's dead； he's dead。〃 He clapped his hands； he rubbed them together； he clapped them again； he flung them up。 〃He's dead； he's dead； he's dead； he'll never hurt her； he'll never vex her； he's double…vexed forever； he's dead； he's dead。〃
But she didn't hear him。 On she played； making her way through these slumberish low notes； humming softly and then parting her lips to make a monosyllabic song。
I was fall with his blood。 I felt it washing through me。 I loved it； I loved every drop of it。 I regained my breath from the effort of having so quickly consumed it； and then I walked slowly； quietly as I could； as if she could hear when she could not； and stood at the end of the piano looking at her。
What a small tender face she had； so girlish with deep…set； huge and pale blue eyes。 But look at the bruises on her face。 Look at the blood…red scratches on her cheek。 Look at the field of tiny red bleeding pinpoint wounds on her temple where a shock of her hair had been ripped right out by the roots。
She didn't care。 The greenish…black bruises on her bare arms meant nothing to her。 She played on。
How delicate her neck was； even with the blackish swelling imprint of his fingers； and how graceful her small bony shoulders； barely holding up the sleeves of her thin flowered cotton dress。 Her strong ashen eyebrows came together in the sweetest frown of concentration as she gazed before her at nothing but her lilting； peaking music； her long clean fingers alone envincing her titanic and indomitable strength。
She let her gaze drift to me； and she smiled as if she had seen something that momentarily pleased her； she bowed her head once； twice； three times in rapid time with the music； but as though she were nodding to me。
〃Sybelle；〃 I whispered。 I put my fingers to my lips and kissed them and blew the kiss to her； as her fingers marched on。
But then her vision misted； and she was off again； the Movement demanding speed from her； her head jerked back with the effort of her assault on the keys。 And the Sonata sprang once again into its most triumphant life。
Something more powerful than the light of the sun engulfed me。 It was a power so total that it utterly surrounded me and sucked me up out of the room； out of the world； out of the sound of her playing； out of my senses。
〃Noooo； don't take me now！〃 I screamed。 But an immense and empty blackness swallowed the sound。
I was flying； weightless； with my burnt black limbs outstretched； and in a Hell of excrutiating pain。 This cannot be my body； I sobbed； seeing the black flesh sealed to my muscles like leather； seeing every tendon of