Page 284 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

lives! – I exclaimed with indignation. – Or has the "holy" church struck her off the list
of the living?!

I boiled with indignation, although I perfectly understood that my anger
complicated the situation which was already quite hopeless without that. But Caraffa’s
insolence would not leave any normal person indifferent; I am sure, even when the
matter concerned just the profaned recollections so dear to his heart!
– While Anna is alive, she will stay here, Madonna, and serve our beloved holiest
Church! And if, unfortunately for her, she changes her mind, she will not need your
wonderful house anyway! – Caraffa furiously hissed. – Don’t be overdiligent in your
zeal to find justice, Isidora! It can only do you harm. My patience has limits too... And
I sincerely don’t advise you to cross them!

He sharply turned and disappeared behind the door, without saying goodbye or
informing me as to how long I could remain alone in my so unexpectedly resuscitated
past... Time stopped, pitilessly tossing me into my lucky and cloudless days on
Caraffa’s sick whim, not bothering at all that such unexpected "reality" could easily
stop my heart... I sadly sat on a chair beside the familiar mirror which once reflected
the dear faces of my family... And now I sat in front of it absolutely alone, surrounded
by darling ghosts... Sweet recollections... The force of their beauty suffocated me and
the bitter grief over our lost happiness deeply wounded.
Once (It now seemed a very long time ago!) this enormous mirror witnessed how
I brushed my little Anna’s lovely silky hair every morning, playfully giving her the first
lessons of "witch school" in her childhood... This mirror reflected Girolamo’s eyes
burning with love when he tenderly hugged my shoulders... This mirror reflected
thousands of marvellous moments which I stored deep in my heart with great care and
which now agitated my wounded and exhausted soul.

I saw my wonderful malachite casket there, right on the little night table. It had
contained my beautiful jewelry, which my kind husband had so generously given me
and which were a source of wild envy for rich and capricious Venetian ladies... Only
now it was empty... Somebody's dirty and avid hands had "cleaned out" all the "shining
knick-knacks", valueing only their material worth... but for me they were my memories
of the days of my pure happiness: the evening of my wedding... Anna’s birth... my
victories, already forgotten long ago, or events of our family life, each marked by a
new piece of art, the right to which only I alone had... They were not just very expensive
"stones". They were my Girolamo’s caring, his wish to make me smile and his way to
admire my beauty of which he was sincerely and deeply proud and which he loved so
dearly... And now these pure recollections were touched by somebody's lustful and avid
fingers, on which our desecrated love shrivelled up, bitterly crying...
My favourite books were all over this strange "resuscitated" room and my old
pianoforte sadly waited for me beside the window all alone. Anna’s first doll which
was now the same age as her unfortunate persecuted hostess smiled merrily, lying on
the silk bedspread covering the wide bed. But unlike Anna, the doll could not feel
sorrow and the wicked man was unable to wound it...

I growled from the unbearable pain like a dying beast ready to make the last
mortal jump. Recollections burned out my soul, being so incredibly real and alive that

Back to content

283