Liszt: Hungarian Rhapsody No.8 in F Sharp minor

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She struggled out of bed. She had to listen to Liszt. A rhapsody. Csárdás. She put on her dressing gown, took her cigarettes and matches from the bedside table and went out into the corridor. Nili and Lila were playing in their room. Last night she had scolded them terribly and unjustifiably so. She had repented for what she did and slept by their side until daybreak.

She went into the drawing room. Hungarian Rhapsody Number Eight. “Capriccio,” she whispered. She spread the green baize on the dining table, took out her solitaire cards and sank down on one of the chairs. Her cat, Duman, jumped onto her lap; Hera and Zeus settled down on the floor by her feet. She lit a cigarette. Asiye Hanım was standing next to her with a highly diluted cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits baked with almost no sugar.

“Cigarettes won’t nourish you, madam. Please try to finish these biscuits.”

She had no appetite whatsoever and was continuously losing weight. She was not even thirty-four, but she knew that she looked much older; her face had shrunk as she became thinner and thinner. She sucked in a puff from her cigarette.

(Broken Rhapsody, p.341)