Page 258 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

my memory beloved faces and days of complete happiness when sorrow had not visited
our life yet and there was no place for bitterness and pain in it. There, in that wonderful
"gone" world, my adorable husband Girolamo still lived, Anna’s merry laughter rang
like a silver bell, my dear tender mother softly smiled at me in the morning and my kind
and light father patiently taught me the wisdom of Life. This world was happy and
sunny, and my soul strived for it, flying as far away as possible never to return.

But wicked reality did not let me go for some reason. It pitilessly knocked on my
fevered brain to wake it up, demanding my coming back "home". My dear and imperfect
Earthly world called for help... Caraffa lived... And while he breathed, there would be
no joy and light in our world.
It was time to return.

On deeply breathing I felt my stiffened physical body at last. Life unwillingly, drop
by drop, came back into it. I had no choice but to be brave.
The silence in the room was dense, thundering and viscous. I found myself sitting
in a rough wooden arm-chair. Without moving or opening my eyes, I tried not to show
those who could possibly be present there that I had awakened. I felt everything
perfectly and intently "looked" around, trying to determine what was happening.
I was slowly coming to myself and gradually remembering what had happened; I
suddenly saw very clearly WHAT the real reason for my sudden and deep faint was!
Cold horror squeezed my numbed half-awakened heart with its sharp grip.

Father! My poor kind father was h e r e!!!, in this frightful bloody basement –
this terrible den of horrific death... He had come next after Girolamo... He was dying.
Caraffa’s ominous trap had shut down swallowing his pure Soul...
Being afraid to see something even more frightful, I, nevertheless, managed to
gather my slipping away courage and lifted my head...

The first thing I saw right in front of me was Caraffa’s black eyes burning with
deep interest.
My father was not in the torture chamber.
Caraffa’s face expressed utter concentration. His inquisitive eyes were fixed on
me, as if he tried to understand what was truly happening in my soul mercilessly
mutilated by suffering... To my greatest surprise, his clever thin face expressed sincere
agitation (!) which, nevertheless, he was not going to show me. On seeing that I
regained consiousness, Caraffa instantly "put" on his usual indifferent mask and
broadly smiling pronounced with feigned care:
– Oh, come on, Isidora! Why frighten all of us? I’d never thought that you could
be so easily agitated! – And then added: – How beautiful you are, Madonna, even being
so deeply unconcious!!!

I looked at him unable to say anything, and a wild anxiety clawed at my injured
heart. Where is my father? What would Caraffa do to him?! Is he still alive? I could
not look it through, because my emotions impeded me from seeing the reality, and the
vision slipped away from me. At the same time I was extremely unwilling to ask Caraffa
about it, because I did not wish to give him even the least possible pleasure. Besides,
no matter what had happened, nothing could be changed. As for what should happen,

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