Page 390 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

pregnant young woman, almost a girl, on the wide wooden bed. I understood that it
was Esclarmonde.

People crowded along the high stone walls of the hall. They were all very thin and
exhausted. Some conversed in whispers about something, as if they were afraid of
frightening off a happy delivery with their loud conversation. Others nervously walked
to and fro, being obviously worried about the young woman’s as yet unborn child.
A man and a woman stood at the head of the enormous bed. Perhaps they were
Esclarmonde’s parents or the nearest family members, because they looked very like
her. The woman was about forty five years old, very thin and pale, but she carried
herself with a proud and independent air. The man’s state was more evident. He was
frightened, confused and nervous. He endlessly wiped beads of perspiration from his
face (although it was damp and cold there!). His hands were shaking but he did not
hide it, being absolutely oblivious of his surroundings.

A long-haired young man knelt on the stone floor next to the bed. His attention
was nailed to the young woman. He saw nothing around and, fixing his eyes on her,
continuously whispered something to her, desperately trying to comfort her.
I tried to have a good look at the future mother, as suddenly, acute pain slashed
through my body! I felt with the whole of my self how terribly Esclarmonde suffered!
Probably her child which was just about to be born caused her seas of unknown pain
for which she was not yet ready.
She impetuously grasped his hands and quietly whispered:

– Promise me. I beg you; promise me you’ll save him... no matter what ... promise
me.
The man answered nothing, only stroked her thin hands tenderly. He obviously
could not find any consoling words appropriate to the moment.

– He must be born today! He must! – Suddenly the girl cried in desperation. – He
cannot die with me! What shall we do? Tell me, what shall we do?!!
Her face was incredibly thin, exhausted and pale. But neither her leanness, nor
frightful emaciation could spoil the exquisite beauty of her surprisingly tender and light
face, in which now only the eyes lived. They were pure and enormous, like two grey-
blue springs. They shone with endless tenderness and love, fixedly looking at the
alarmed young man... and black despair was hidden in the depth of these wonderful
eyes.
What was that?! Who were all these people who came to me from somebody's
distant past? Were they the Cathars?! May be that is why my heart shrank painfully,
because of the inevitable and terrible misfortune that awaited them?

Young Esclarmonde’s mother (and it certainly was she) was anxious to the limits
of endurance, but she did her best not to show it to her exhausted daughter who
sometimes "went" away to the non-existence, feeling and answering nothing. She lay
like a sad angel, leaving her tired body for some time. Her long, moist and silky hair
scattered over the pillows, glittering with gold... The girl was truly very unusual. She
shone with some strange, spiritually-doomed and very deep beauty.
Two thin and severe, but pleasant women approached Esclarmonde. They tried to

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