Page 286 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

hope of stopping the escaping time which pitilessly flowed away with every new day
like transparent grains through his senescent but still very beautiful thin fingers.

This man had everything. His power spread over all Christian kingdoms. Rulers
and kings submitted to him. Princes kissed his hand. For all that his only earthly life
was coming to an end. The thought that he was unable to change anything drove him
to despair!
Caraffa was an extremely strong and
resolute man, but his will could not give him his
young years back. He was perfectly educated and
clever, but his mind could not help him to prolong
his so much desired life which was gradually
slipping away... While wishing for and not getting
what he desired, Caraffa perfectly understood
that I knew HOW to give him that for which he
was ready to pay the highest price in the world. I
knew HOW to prolong his life. But the "holy"
Pope also knew perfectly well that he would
never get what he desired from me, which drove
him crazy. The wild desire to live forever
overpowered his human feelings, if he ever had
any. Now he fell "ill" of this single idea and
removed any obstacles in the way of his great, but Giovanni Pietro Caraffa
hardly feasible aim. Caraffa became an obsessed
man, who was ready to do anything to fulfill his greatest wish – to live very long, no
matter what the cost.

And I dreaded every day, expecting that he would bring down his indefatigable
malice on my poor father, or still worse – on my little Anna, instead of me. My father
still was in the basement. Caraffa held him there neither letting him go nor torturing,
as if he waited for something. It all was much more terrible than the most terrible
reality, because the "holy" Pope’s sick imagination (in my sad experience!) had no
limits, and it was quite impossible to guess what future awaited us tomorrow...
Anna was relatively safe in peace and silence surrounded by knowledge and
guarded by pure kind people. And she could be there until the unforeseeable "holy"
Pope claimed her. Going deeply into my sad thoughts, I stopped at the open window.

The weather was uncommonly pleasant – soft, sunny and warm. It smelled of the
waking earth and jasmine. Spring was gradually coming into its own. The succulent
young grass was spread all over the courtyard of the castle like a fluffy carpet with shy
blue-eyed forget-me-nots here and there livening up the grayness of its sullen high
walls. The sparrows rushed about on roofs, "drunk" on the spring air. The world woke
up, widely opening its warm and tender arms toward happiness. And only here, in the
torture chambers of a frightful and cruel man death soared. I did not want to
believe that people were being tormented in the horrific Papal basements and dying on
this sunny and merry day! Life was too valuable and wonderful for somebody's "holy"
hand to take it so easily.

Back to content

285