Page 287 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

– What are you doing here, Madonna Isidora? Don’t you like your appartments?
– Caraffa’s noiseless appearance interrupted my sad thoughts. – I asked you not to
leave your rooms. I think they are spacious enough for one person, aren’t they?

The Pope was highly displeased. He perfectly understood that nothing impeded
me from "leaving" right away, if I wanted, and my "conditional" incarceration enraged
him, preventing his complete control over me.
– So what are you looking for, Isidora? – Caraffa’s tone became much softer.

– Nothing, Your Holiness. It’s just here I can breathe easier. Recollections, you
know, don’t always appear pleasant... even the dearest ones...
– Would you do me the honour of having supper with me, Madonna? Lately I lack
pleasant society very much... – He pronounced it in a man of the world’s voice,
unexpectedly changing the subject of the conversation.
I was absolutely taken aback, not knowing what to say. Of course, any spare
moment spent with Caraffa could bring me that long-awaited chance which would help
me to rid the world of his terrible presence. Therefore I agreed.

– I apologise for my dress, Your Holiness, but I don’t have many changes with me
here. – I answered in a high society tone too.
Caraffa smiled.

– You know perfectly well Isidora that it’s absolutely irrelevant regarding you!
You would outshine any beautifully attired queen whilst being dressed like a
shepherdess!
He offered me his hand. I linked my arm through his and we went along shockingly
beautiful halls and corridors until we found ourselvs in a golden room richly decorated
with wonderful frescos with a very long table crammed with heavy golden tableware
in the middle.
– Oh, I did not suppose that you awaited guests, Your Holiness! – I exclaimed in
surprise. – My dress is truly inappropriate for a dinner party. It can produce
unnecessary rumours. Would not it be better for me to withdraw?

– Oh, stop the formalities Isidora! I wait for nobody. It’s my ordinary evening
meal, my dear.
I adore having sufficient choice always and in everything, you see.
– How many dishes are here? – I could not help asking looking at this in surprise.

– It’s never less than twenty five! – The Pope contentedly answered.
Oh, Gods! The greatest gourmet in the world would not need such an amount!
This man knew no limits even in food!
– Be seated, Madonna! I do hope that one of these dishes will satisfy your refined
taste.

I felt so terrible that unexpectedly for me I wanted to burst out laughing. Could I
ever imagine that one fine day I would share the table with a man who I desperately
wished to wipe off the face of Earth?! I felt a strange awkwardness and said:
– What made you invite me today, Your Holiness? – I asked carefully.

– Your pleasant company. – Caraffa broke into laughter, and on thinking a little,

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