Page 87 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

became haggard in a flash; the dusty soil swallowed crystal bitter drops.

– My God, save him... – The lady whispered bitterly. – I shall never see him
again... never... help him, My God...
She stood motionless, like a mournful Madonna, seeing and hearing nothing
around. The blond boy nestled up to her, now revealing his sorrow and sadly looking
at the empty street, where instead of his beloved father, only white dust swirled…

– How could I not to say goodbye to you, my angel? – Suddenly the quiet and
bitter voice sounded nearby.
Harold looked at his charming and so sad wife, without taking his eyes off her,
and mortal sorrow, which could not be washed off even by the waterfall of tears, hid
in his blue eyes... But he looked a very strong and brave man who would not and could
not shed tears easily.
– Please, don’t! Don’t be sad! – Stella’s fragile fingers stroked his enormous
hand. – Don’t you see how much they loved you? Let’s not look at it anymore; you’ve
seen it already so many times!

The picture disappeared... I looked at Stella with surprise, but did not have
time to say anything, as found myself in another "episode" of the strange life which
so deeply affected my soul.
An unusually bright, merry and pink dawn, spangled with diamond drops of dew,
was gradually waking up. The sky blazed up for an instant, painting the edges of lacy,
tow-haired clouds with a scarlet glow, and at once it became very light. An early,
extraordinarily fresh morning came into its own. The knight Harold and his united
little family sat on the terrace of the house, which we’ve seen before, in the cool shade
of a big tree. The woman looked amazingly beautiful and very happy, like the newly-
born dawn... Affectionately smiling, she talked to her husband, sometimes gently
touching his hand. And he, being absolutely relaxed, gently rocked his sleepy,
dishevelled little son, sipped a pink cooling drink and from time to time idly answered
his wife’s questions which he had probably heard many times.

The morning air was charmingly "tinkling" and strikingly pure. A small tidy
garden breathed freshness, moisture and lemon fragrance; the plenitude of the
stunningly pure air, which streamed right into the lungs, took one’s breath away.
Harold wanted to "fly" because of the quiet happiness which filled his tired, worn out
suffering heart! He listened to the thin voices of just waking birdsong, saw his smiling
wife’s beautiful face and it seemed that nothing in the world could break or take away
this wonderful moment of light, joy and peace with his little happy family from him...
To my surprise, the idyllic picture was suddenly separated from us by a luminous
blue "wall", leaving the knight Harold alone to enjoy his happiness. Indeed, he did –
forgetting about everything in the world, he "absorbed" these wonderful and so dear
to him, moments with all his soul, not even noticing that he was left alone.
– There. Let him watch it, – Stella whispered. – And I will show you what
happened next...

The wonderful picture of quiet happiness disappeared... and another one – cruel
and frightening, which promised nothing good, let alone a happy end, appeared

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