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datatime: 2022-11-29 18:21:05 Author:ddhsinGE

'Did you ever see his performance?'

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him his behaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of his career. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

'He used to call himself the Great Pretender,' she said. The thought made her smile.

'But you don't believe it?'

'To Hamburg,' she said, 'I don't like this city. It's too hot. And too cruel.'

'I'm sorry. My name is Swann, Mr. D'Amour. Dorothea Swann. You may have heard of my husband?'

Harry shook his head. 'I can't afford Broadway, Mrs. Swann.'

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

'Don't blame New York,' he said. 'It can't help itself.'

'To Hamburg,' she said, 'I don't like this city. It's too hot. And too cruel.'

Valentin had re-appeared, his lugubrious features rife with suspicion. He carried an envelope, which he clearly had no desire to give up. Dorothea had to cross the carpet and take it from his hands.

'So I did,' she said, conceding his point with an apologetic look. 'Forgive me. That was Swann talking. He hated to be called a magician. He said that was a word that had to be kept for miracle-workers.'

'I read about it. Tragic.'

'Oh yes. I lived with Swann seven and a half years, and I got to understand him as well as anybody ever could. I learned to sense when he wanted me around, and when he didn't. When he didn't, I'd take myself off somewhere and let him have his privacy. Genius needs privacy. And he was a genius, you know. The greatest illusionist since Houdini.'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'May I ask . . . your name?'

He looked at her strangely, almost as though she'd said something obscene.

'I'm sorry. My name is Swann, Mr. D'Amour. Dorothea Swann. You may have heard of my husband?'

Valentin had appeared with a glass of milk. He set it down on the table in front of Harry. As he made to leave, she said: 'Valentin. The letter?'

'I'd think sometimes-it was a kind of miracle that he let me into his life . . .'

'He's grief-stricken,' she said. 'Forgive him his behaviour. He was with Swann from the beginning of his career. I think he loved my husband as much as I did.'

'The letter,' she repeated.

'Maybe,' she replied, nodding. 'Perhaps what happened to Swann would have happened anyway, wherever we'd been. People keep telling me: it was an accident. That's all. Just an accident.'

'I called him a magician a while back,' Harry said. 'You corrected me.'

'Maybe,' she replied, nodding. 'Perhaps what happened to Swann would have happened anyway, wherever we'd been. People keep telling me: it was an accident. That's all. Just an accident.'

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