Free Night Music by John Connolly Page A

defined by her suicide, might he not have found a way to modify his prose even slightly, and thus give her some peace?
    And was it not also true that Tolstoy’s ending to the novel was flawed in any case? Rather than give us some extended reflection on Anna’s death, he chose instead to concentrate on Levin’s return to religion, and Koznyshev’s support for the Serbs, and Vronsky’s committal to the cause of the Slavs. He even gave the final word on Anna’s death to Vronsky’s rotten mother: “Her death was the death of a bad woman, a woman without religion.” Surely Anna deserved a better memorial than that?
    Mr. Berger had crossed out three simple lines from the end of Chapter XXXI:
    The little muzhik ceased his mumblings, and fell to his knees by the broken body. He whispered a prayer for her soul, but if her fall had been unwitting then she was past all need of prayer, and she was with God now. If it were otherwise, then prayer could do her no good. But still he prayed.
    He read the preceding paragraph:
    And the candle by which she had read the book that was filled with fears, with deceptions, with anguish, and with evil, flared up with greater brightness than she had ever known, revealing to her all that before was in darkness, then flickered, grew faint, and went out forever.
    You know, thought Mr. Gedeon, Chapter XXXI could end just as easily there, and it might mean peace for Anna.
    He closed the book, allowing Mr. Berger’s change to stand.
    â€œLet’s leave it, shall we?” he said. “Why don’t you put it back on its shelf?”
    Mr. Berger took the book reverently and restored it gently, lovingly to its place in the stacks. He thought about visiting Anna one last time, but it did not seem appropriate to ask Mr. Gedeon’s permission. He had done all that he could for her, and he hoped only that it was enough. He returned to Mr. Gedeon’s living room and placed the key to the Caxton Library on the desk.
    â€œGood-bye,” he said. “And thank you.”
    Mr. Gedeon nodded but did not answer, and Mr. Berger left the library and did not look back.
XVI
    In the weeks that followed Mr. Berger thought often of the Caxton Library, and of Mr. Gedeon, and of Anna most of all, but he did not return to the lane, and he consciously avoided walking near that part of town. He read his books and resumed his walks to the railway track. Each evening he waited for the last train to pass, and it always did so without incident. Anna, he believed, was troubled no more.
    One afternoon, as summer drew to its close, there came a knocking on his door. He answered it to find Mr. Gedeon standing on his doorstep, two suitcases by his side, and a taxi waiting for him at the garden gate. Mr. Berger was surprised to see him, and invited him to step inside, but Mr. Gedeon declined.
    â€œI’m leaving,” he said. “I’m tired, and I no longer have the energy that I once had. It’s time for me to retire, and bequeath the care of the Caxton to another. I suspected as much on that first night, when you followed Anna to the library. The library always finds its new librarian and leads him to its door. I thought that I might have been mistaken when you altered the books, and I resigned myself to waiting until another came, but slowly I grew to understand that you were the one after all. Your only fault was to love a character too much, which caused you to do the wrong thing for the right reasons, and it may be that we both learned a lesson from that incident. I know that the Caxton and its characters will be safe in your care until the next librarian comes along. I’ve left a letter for you containing all that you need to know, and a number at which you can contact me should you have any questions, but I think you’ll be just fine.”
    He held out to Mr. Berger a great ring of keys. After only a moment’s hesitation, Mr. Berger accepted them,