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Show 90 He couldn't stay after school that afternoon because he was still too shaken by the chance contact with such an unthinkable part of Miss Petrov; each time he did think of it, his lips burned. That evening in the library, he sat with her book before him, softly brushing his fingers over her name in the inscription. Yulyona Petrovna. Yulyona. He let the pages fall open at a place of their own choosing, and the sonnet appeared uncannily before his eyes: Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend, Nor services to do, till you require. Perfect. Before he'd copied the first quatrain, the melody was in his head. He was whistling it when he met Kathleen and Jame on the dip below the middle dip of Center Street. After they said goodnight to Jame, who stayed in the shadows outside the periphery of the street light's illumination, Karl whistled it again as he and Kathleen climbed the last half of Center Street toward Pine Alley. "That's pretty," she told him. "Did you make it up?" "Urn hmmm." He would return the book to Miss Petrov the next day, but it would take him a while to gather enough courage to sing the sonnet for her. Kathleen said, "I've been thinking, Karl. You're so musical, I want to teach you some of the songs I play at the nickelodeon." |
