Free The Ring by Danielle Steel Page A

never to leave her in this place with the others who had been so unlike her. His aunts and his father and the older brother who had died at war. She had been so childlike, and she was still so young. Kassandra von Gotthard, dead at thirty. Walmar stood there, unable to believe she was no more.
    It was Ariana who finally came to find him. He felt the small fingers lace into his own and looked down to see her standing there, her blue coat with the ermine collar drenched with rain.
    We have to go now, Papa. We will take you home. She looked so old and wise and loving, her huge blue eyes a distant shadow of those others he had known. She cared nothing about the rain as she stood there. She only looked up at him, holding tightly to his hand. And then, silently, he nodded, his face wet with tears and winter rain. His Homburg was dripping water onto his shoulders, and the tiny hand was held fast within his own.
    He didn't look back over his shoulder, and neither did the child. Hand in hand, they climbed silently into the Hispano-Suiza, and the chauffeur closed the door. The men of Grunewald cemetery then slowly began to cover Kassandra von Gotthard's coffin until it, too, would become a green mound, to rest with all the others who had come before her and whom she had never known.

Book Two
    ARIANABERLIN

Chapter 8

    Ariana? He stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting. If she didn't hurry, they would be late. Ariana! The nursery floor lay above him, transformed now into rooms more suitable for teenagers. Now and then he had thought of moving the children downstairs to be near him, but they had grown accustomed to their own floor, and he had never been able to bring himself to reopen his wife's rooms. The doors to Kassandra's empty apartment had stood closed for seven years.
    The clock chimed the half hour, and then, as though on cue, light flooded the upper hall. As he looked up, she stood there, a vision in layers of white organdy, with a spray of tiny white roses woven into her golden hair. Her long neck was like ivory rising above the snowy dress, her features a perfectly carved cameo, and as she looked at him, her bright blue eyes danced. Slowly, she came down the stairs to him, as Gerhard grinned from above her, peeking from what had once been their playroom door. He broke the spell of the moment, calling down to his father, who waited, stunned, at the bottom of the stairs, She looks good, doesn't she? For a girl. Both Ariana and her father smiled then. Walmar nodded and cast his son a tired smile.
    I'd say she looks extraordinary, for a girl. Walmar had just turned sixty-five that spring. And times weren't easy, not for a man of his years, or for anyone these days. The country had been at war for almost three years now. Not that it changed how they lived. Berlin was still vivid with beauty and excitement, almost to the point of frenzy, with constant parties, theater, opera, and endless novel forms of entertainment that he found tiring for a man of his age. In addition there was the constant strain of maintaining order for his family, running his bank keeping clear of trouble, and sequestering his children from the poison that now ran freely in the country's blood. No, it had not been easy. But so far he had managed every turn. The Tilden Bank was still solid, his relations with the Reich were good his life-style was still secure, and because of his importance as a banker as long as he continued to be useful to the Party, no one would disturb his children, or him.
    When Ariana and Gerhard had reached the age when participation in a youth group was expected, it was quietly explained that Gerhard was having trouble with his studies, had a touch of asthma, and was agonizingly shy around children his own age. Ever since the death of his mother' of course you understand' and Ariana ' we're not at all sure she will ever recover from the shock. A noble widower of aristocratic background his two young children, and a bank. One needed