BELOW THE PALAIS de Justice were jail cells that held inmates while they were standing trial. The cells for the women were remarkably pristine, thanks to an order of nuns in Paris who washed the linens daily and scrubbed the floors and walls. Mischa had never spent the night here---security reasons compelled the government to keep moving the four of them around---but sometimes they placed them there temporarily prior to a court appearance. During the trial, before they were shipped off for the night to some undisclosed location, they sometimes allowed them to use this location for brief visits with loved ones.591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8LBUplVqFT
Sebastian had left court a few minutes early to pick up Mischa's sisters, Zoe and Hania. Because he was currently making a movie in Europe, the studio had provided housing for Sebastian in Paris ever since Mischa was arrested. At least it gave him a place to stay as he bounced back and forth between Austria and Paris over these last several months.
Zoe and Hania stayed at the Hotel Wolf-Dietrich in Salzburg, coming for visits on the weekends. Today was day one of the trial, and although Mischa refused to let them be in the courtroom, she could understand their wanting to be in Paris today, their wanting to see her. Had she any energy to object and insist that they wait out the trial in Salzburg, she would have done so, but the truth was that the rule book, at this point, had been thrown out the window. None of them had any clue as to how to handle what was happening.
"Don't just say you don't like it," Mischa said to Zoe, seated next to her on the bed in the cell, which was just a long plank with a thin mattress on top.
"Why do I have to like it?"
"You don't, Zoe." She stroked Zoe's hair. "But tell me why."
"I don't like Boulder. He's stuck-up. He doesn't like anything. Everything fake to him. He just makes fun of everything, like he's too good for everybody. I mean, seriously, Mischa, why does everyone think that book's a classic?"
Zoe was seventeen now. Her face was maturing, her jaw squaring like Mischa's, her cheekbones gaining prominence. She had Mischa's eyes, but there the resemblance ended.
"There's a bit of Boulder in every youngster growing up," Mischa said, placing the palm of her hand against Zoe's cheek. "Boulder's sacred, sis. He's scared so he's pushing everyone away, and he tells himself his pushing them away because they're superficial and phony. And sometimes they are, but really he's justifying his fear. He just doesn't realize it."
"Maybe," Zoe conceded. "Or maybe the book just sucks."
Hania, Mischa's third twin, was sitting on the other side of her, her hand clutching Mischa's and her head resting against her shoulder. She resembled Mischa more than Zoe did, with her petite body, tiny nose, and large almond-shaped brown eyes----even the long, shoulder-length sandy blonde hair.
Mischa was an emotional time bomb in the presence of her sisters. This was the only time she had with them and she had to maximize it. She was on the verge of tears and wanted to do nothing more than hug them and squeeze her eyes shut and wish it all away. But she had to be their sister. She couldn't imagine how extraordinarily difficult this must be fore them----all she could do was guess. She saw them, at most, twice a week for limited visits, during which everyone was trying to keep up a brave front. She was left with little more than she could force out of Sebastian, and she could only assume that he was sugarcoating matters to spare her greater pain. They're doing fine. It's hard but their spirits are up.
She was losing them. She was losing everybody. And here they were, debating the merits of Ulysses while inside each of them was devastated and absolutely petrified.
"How's your Spanish?" she asked Zoe. It had been her favorite class in boarding school in upstate New York. Nobody had told her to study any particular language; she'd been drawn on her own to Spanish, which Mischa though was a savvy move----especially if the girl was interested in an acting career in bi-lingual California.
Zoe seemed momentarily at a loss for words.
"She's flunking," said Hania.
"She's----you're flunking Spanish, Zoe? Why?"591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVcTvXCuEOp
Zoe shrugged. "I---I guess I just can't keep my mind on it."591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBI0GumCo5x
"I don't understand." She looked over at Sebastian standing in the corner of the cell, but, technically, this was none of his business. "You love Spanish. Have you gotten interested in a different language now?"591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYjbeF0DND9
"Mischa, who cares?"591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeu7wdI0R5z
"Actually, Mischa, we're both learning French," Hania said.591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtHIgfU8xGf
"French? That's not like.....?" When it came to Mischa, when she got the idea, it was like a blow to the chest. She gathered her arms around both of her sisters and pulled them close. They didn't move for a long time, save for the slight quiver of Hania's body as she started to cry. It was all Mischa could do to keep her composure, and then the walls came tumbling down.591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2UcCi90iTk
"Don't you ever give up hope," Mischa whispered through her own sobs. "Not ever." But clearly, everyone was bracing for the worst, even her sisters, who were preparing themselves for the possibility of spending a lot of time in France over the coming decades, visiting their beloved sister in prison.591Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQaEDY6p2sm
