CLAIR DE LUNE'S
The Part 38
But Clair-de-Lune's shaking is getting stronger. Sari
the wheat has given him strength.
“You want to talk about it now?”
Clair-de-Lune nodded.
Brother Inchmahome thought for a moment. Then he said
down, almost to himself, “Maybe you need to talk about it— to get well..”.
Clair-de-Lune nodded firmly. Brother Inchmahome almost laughed.
“Then be well!” said.
And he leaned closer.
“You remember what my new question was?” tannya
gentler.
Clair-de-Lune nodded.
Brother Inchmahome was silent for a moment, almost as if he was too moved to speak. And it seems to Clair-de-Lune, that the air around him has never been so clear. Finally he said—ah, so soft—“Then, Clair-de-Lune, what do you want to say?”
Clair-de-Lune smiled faintly. Slowly, with
with all his might, he raised his arm and demonstrated with his fingers stretched out, the largest circle he could make.
Everything!
Then he lifted his finger.
And one thing.
Brother Inchmahome smiled and bowed his head, as a sign he understood.
“And what is one thing?”
Clair-de-Lune opened his mouth to say it; for now he knew if he wanted to, he could speak. But, exactly
when the word almost became sound, just as he could almost speak, with his lips, tongue, and voice, for the first time, he understood
gotcha!
Because it turns out, the thing he wanted to say the most
cannot be said with words.
So, instead, he stretched out his arm and Brother Inchmahome raised it with his own arm and the girl embraced him with the rest of her strength, because he knows hugs declare ‘I love you’ more clearly than words.
But just then, they both heard something: the clapping, the wind; the wingspans on the window above Clair-de-Lune's bed, and Brother Inchmahome, who was holding Clair-de-Lune, who was holding him, furrowing brows, astonishment and astonishment.
For he felt the sight of the silver-furred bird, whose heart was red-golden and shining like fire in its chest, flapping its wings against the windowpanes, as if asking to be allowed in.
What else can he do except obey him?
While kneeling on the bed of Clair-de-Lune, he
hold out your hand and open the window. The bird immediately flew in, passed the Clair-de-Lune bed, and entered his heart.
Clair-de-Lune looked at Brother Inchmahome's gray eyes like water flowing on a rock, gray as the dawn sky— gray as his own eyes!—and said, in a voice never heard before.
“Your eyes always seem as if you always see beautiful things.”
And Brother Inchmahome said,
“I always see beautiful things.”
Then his gaze fell on the pendulum hanging on Clair-de-Lune's nightgown, at the curve of his neck, and all the color seemed to vanish from his face.
“Where did you get it?” whispered.
spread the spots on the bottom of his face.
The young man exuded an extraordinary expression,
it was as if he was seeing the most beautiful thing in the world.
The memories of Brother Inchmahome revolve, spin, into the past.
It was a picture of him as a young man.
# # #
“Please,” said the young man. His voice was hoarse
despair; his wet black hair was hit by the rain; his eyes seemed to burn on his thin face. “I have nothing to give. But this means a lot to me. We are engaged—and are getting married.”
He was standing, trembling, at the door of the inner stage
rain and wind; he begged the guard who stood firm, arms folded in the doorway.
The doorkeeper was surprised to hear that.
“Attached?” he said while looking up and down. “So, you're the one, huh? Well, I'll tell you one thing, man. I could be killed if I let you in. Never mind, just go! And if you want to take my advice, you better stay away.” But then he feels sorry for me.
that skinny young man, whose misery seemed so obvious. “This,” said as he took something in his pocket. “Buy food. And forget him, man. These dancers—now there, tomorrow lost—doesn't matter. They don't even eat enough to survive. All you need is a plump girl like my Elsie.”.
But, the young man had already passed, walking
staggering, like someone who had just been beaten.
“Be careful..” that doorman warned when a horse carriage dodged to avoid it. But the young man walked
continue, without realizing.
“A terrible night!” muttered the doorkeeper. “Mademoiselle Moon suddenly dies and airs
this bad! All this is enough to stir up horrible thoughts, oh, help me!” and he bent his shoulders and tightened his coat, while the sound of crying ran down the stairs behind him.
# # #
“They didn't allow me to meet him,” Brother Inchmahome said, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had laid Clair-de-Lune carefully on the bed, and was sitting by his side, speaking fast, his voice breaking like the voice of a young man. “Everything is so sudden!
We love each other! We meet every day—anytime he can—but one day, everything just stops! I sent mail—but all the letters were returned unopened.”.
“I don't know if he—or them.”.
And he stuck his head with both hands.
“So I went to the theater to see it
dancing,” he said again after a moment of silence, and his voice grew longer laden with sadness. “I know he's sad, but I can't help him! I
can't help him!”
“I was there—on the night he died. Even so, they did not allow me to meet him, even to utter
goodbye—for ever. I came back—pierce the wind and rain—when there was no hope. I want to lie down and die. But, I can't find that floor! I keep going up—naik—naik—naik stairs. Taste
like—sacort—hell. Go up the stairs, and know that he's dead. And it's impossible to go home again…
“I'm up, I'm down, I think I'm crazy. Then, I found this new place, a floor that didn't
I've found it before, door, convent.. They—brother—accept me. They said, I was waiting for something.”.
“I think I'm waiting for death! Really, I think it's death I'm waiting for! I'm so lonely! But I learned to listen—and listening made me heal.”.
Then he looked at Clair-de-Lune.
“But live this,” whispers, “never ending—just start, repeat and repeat again..”.
Seriate...