Page 229 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

inside her the terrible, superhuman pain which somebody very wicked had once made
her experience. Suddenly I began to fear that right now, in the most interesting place,
she would stop and we never know what happened to her next! But the amazing teller
was not going to stop. Most likely there were some moments that still cost too much
for her to go over them. Then her tormented soul protected itself, shutting firmly,
refusing to let anybody in or remember anything "aloud", being afraid to wake up the
burning, limitless pain which slept inside her. However, it was evident that Isidora was
strong enough to overcome any sorrow, because she pulled herself together and quietly
continued:

– The first time I saw him was when I calmly strolled along the wharf, speaking
about new books to the merchants I knew very well, many of which had become my
kind friends a long time ago. The day was very pleasant, light and sunny, and it seemed
that no trouble could cloud that wonderful day. So I thought, but my wicked fate had
prepared something completely different...
Calmly talking to Francesco Valgrisi – the books which he published were adored
by the whole of Europe – I suddenly felt the strongest blow to my heart. I stopped
breathing for an instant. It was absolutely unexpected, but considering my many years
experience, I had no right to miss such a thing! I turned around in surprise. Deep
burning eyes looked right at me. I knew them at once! These eyes had been tormenting
me for so many nights, making me jump in my sleep, dripping with cold sweat! It was
a guest from my nightmares – unforeseeable and terrible.

The man was thin and tall, but looked very slender and strong. His thin ascetic
face was framed by thick black hair strongly touched with grey and a neat shortly cut
beard. The scarlet cardinal’s soutane made him look alien and very dangerous. A
strange golden-red cloud, which only I saw, curled around his flexible body. If he were
not a faithful vassal of the church, I would think that I saw a Sorcerer in front of me.
His bearing and burning with hatred look expressed fury. For some reason I
understood at once that he was the notorious Caraffa. Before I could understand what
could cause such a stormy reaction (in fact not a single word had yet been said!), I
heard his strange hoarse voice:
– Are you interested in books, Madonna Isidora?

Madonna was a respectful form of address to a woman or young lady in Italy.
My heart froze. He knew my name; but why? Why was this terrible man interested
in me? My head began to spin. It seemed that somebody had gripped my brain in an
iron vice. Suddenly I understood – Caraffa!!! It was he who was trying to break me
mentally, but why?

I looked into his eyes again. Thousands of fires blazed in them, he having taken
innocent souls to the sky…
– So, what books are you interested in, Madonna Isidora? – His low voice sounded
again.
– Oh, I am sure not those ones which you are looking for, Your Eminence. — I
answered calmly.

My soul was scared and ached, fluttering like a caught bird, but I knew that I must

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