A Reprise

It is but a little before my story is told and its end rests with me here, at my writing desk. Gervaise has brought a cup of tea and a shawl to keep me warm, but a part of me that she and they will never see is bitterly cold, in the desolate place with my love. It was not once but twice that my false family stole from me the one thing that made my life purely sweet: my Oskar. We continued to love one another openly until my brother’s return from Baden Baden. Gauvain was stricken immediately by my debilitated looks. I was wasting away; could nothing be done? The fresh air did me good, the fresh air was my enemy—sweet cakes revived my spirit, then reviled it. The doctor was making but guesses and would have put a frailer form through torture who dared to live by his advice. I was dying. What was the difference? I told Gauvain that I wanted Oskar to live with us. I held his hand and wept to recall his letter. I had written my reply in his absence and merely handed it to him when h...

My days with Oskar passed quickly. At first we remained reserved. I felt sometimes that Gauvain’s spirit was with us still. I looked in the mirror and sometimes fancied I saw him there, looking back at me with condemning eyes. I knew all was not well. My happiness was not without bitterness. But still I gave myself completely over to my passionate love. I dined with him. We walked to familiar places, hand in hand. We recalled the merriment we had shared as children, here and there. Our innocence was not lost, but somehow found in one another’s eyes as for days we had a thousand things to do that we should have been doing for the past several years we had been denied one another. He became not just my lover, but the other half of my soul. I did not look to the end of summer any more than to the end of my life. I felt that they were the same. Life without this man would be my life no longer. To love—and be loved. I knew as I held him close that I had a precious gift many who lived to...

The next afternoon Gauvain called me to his parlor. His looks were grave and dreadful, as though he hadn’t eaten or slept in a day. I, in turn, felt radiantly alive. The sun which spilled unremittingly from the windows seemed to envelop my frame and pour light out of me. I had been transformed by my love into a new being. I wanted to share my joy with my beloved brother—convince him of my total happiness—but something within me warned me to keep my head. I had almost forgotten about the doctor’s death sentence till I looked in Gauvain’s eyes again and saw the sorrow writ there. “My darling,” he said and came upon me. He wept over my hands, then pressed me close. I surrendered patiently to his embrace, feeling none of the grief he expressed. He looked into my eyes. “What can I tell you, angelic one? How can I…? Yesterday, I thought you heard… because you ran away.” I turned away from him. I would look like a fool to agree to the doctor’s pronouncement, with the happiness on my face....

We met this way for a while. I did not give Gauvain the slightest indication of how I spent my afternoons. I had long been accustomed to my freedom, and he did not think to question it now. Oskar took care to avoid me on any other occasion than our meeting at the summerhouse. Our friendship was innocent; yet I feared Gauvain would disapprove and take him from me, as our mother once had. When I was not with Oskar, I kept my daily piano-practice and occasional meetings with tutors and the doctor. He noted my improvement, told Gauvain I was getting exercise, and that I ought to keep my present routine. Gauvain was gratified, and I was elated—I knew he would not keep me from wandering wherever I would. I felt deeply that I deceived my brother, and should he learn the true nature of my wanderings in the wood, he would be smote, and the bond between us disengaged forever. One morning tucked beneath my breakfast plate was a letter from Oskar, which changed the nature of feelings between us fo...

I was only beginning to understand the attributes on which I, imperfect and unworthy creature, had been bestowed. All who saw me swore I was perfect loveliness. Gauvain, now my champion, claimed my beauty to be remarkable and I, bewildered as I was mute and disabled, could only accept the compliments and fealty with bewilderment. It was not till I saw Oskar once more that I loved. Then I looked into the mirror with changed eyes, anxious to please his gaze. He came to the castle looking for work. My brother assigned him to the winery. The old winemaster needed replacement and was anxious to confer his trade while he still retained strength. Oskar worked intently. There was a hard, near cruel determination in his face that affected me keenly. I little knew the same determination was writ on my features time to time, and derived from the same paternal source. Days passed, and he never came near the house. Could it be that he had forgotten me? I contrived to make myself known to him....

I was faced with a mask of death, and I did not cower from it. I did not shun it: instead death became a companion for me, an instigator, for with each breath I took I was compelled to grasp more and more of life. My former perspective fell away. Others thought I was changed, but I felt for the first time as though I commanded myself. I discarded all conventions and rules. I would do what I wanted to do. I have always had a secret love for wickedness, which perhaps lends credibility to the wrongful acts I have knowingly committed. Yet in the face of death I cannot say any repentance for them. My outcome would be the same; I would still lay slowly dying whether or no I had ventured to these lonely but alluring precipices. When I was very young, there was a boy who was called upon to push my chair. Any reluctance a boy would feel to be at the disposal of one of the sex who, at his age, must have seemed alien and repulsive, was concealed in a face full of Christian love and duty. He ...