Chapter 2 #2
As she entered the garden an icy blast of wind took her breath away.
Shivering, she reckoned she could stay outside for about five minutes.
It was something she’d done since she was a child.
When she couldn’t sleep she got up in the middle of the night and went outside, remaining there until wind, rain, or heat made her miss the comfort of her bedroom.
Then she’d go back in and sleep peacefully till morning.
“Prudencia, you have an odd habit of braving the cold in flimsy footwear. If I were you, I’d put on snow boots.”
Miss Prim turned with a start on hearing the voice of the Man in the Wing Chair.
“Did I wake you?” she asked. “I’m so sorry, I tried to be as quiet as possible.”
He smiled gently, drew his coat tightly around him, and blew on his hands to warm them.
“You didn’t; I’m always awake at this hour.”
“A real night owl,” said the librarian with a teasing grin.
“More like a sheepdog. Eksi has nightmares sometimes and wakes up crying at around two or three. She’s the most fragile lamb in my flock.”
“Really? I’ve never heard her.”
“She cries very quietly. You have to be awake to hear her.”
Miss Prim nodded thoughtfully before vigorously rubbing her hands.
“Why don’t we go back inside and have a hot drink? You’re frozen, Prudencia.”
“When you say a hot drink, do you mean a hot toddy?” she asked mischievously.
“I mean cocoa, chocolate, or hot milk with a dash of rum. Nothing that could go to your head.”
She laughed, and they went back into the house. The Man in the Wing Chair opened the door to the library, switched on a small lamp, and crouched in front of the fireplace to light a fire.
“There’s no need. It’s quite warm enough in here.”
“I know, but I just can’t conceive of a room in winter with an empty hearth. A fire is much more than heating, it’s the heart of a home.”
“I’m not going to argue,” she said with laughter in her voice. “Not at this time of night, and not if you’re offering to light it. Shall I make some cocoa?”
“That would be great,” he answered as he stoked the fire.
In the old kitchen, Miss Prim prepared the drinks.
This was her chance to do as Horacio advised and ask her employer about his romantic history.
As she slowly stirred the cocoa with a wooden spoon, she realized how very difficult this would be.
How could she ask him about a relationship when, officially, she didn’t know about it?
Of course, she reflected, there was really nothing out of the ordinary about her knowing.
Not in a small place where everybody knew everybody else’s story.
When she returned to the library, a fire was blazing. She put the tray down on the tea table and settled herself in one of the armchairs, as did her employer. Then she poured two cups of cocoa, took a slice of cake, removed her slippers, and stretched her legs toward the fire.
“You’ve never told me that you and Herminia used to be a couple,” she said with studied nonchalance, not daring to look up from her cup.
He stirred his cocoa and took a sip before answering.
“There are lots of things about my life I haven’t told you. I didn’t realize I had to, but if it’s important to you I’m quite happy to start now.”
Miss Prim reddened, drew her feet away from the fire, and curled them beneath her on the armchair.
“Of course you don’t have to. But we’ve talked about Herminia so often that I’m amazed you’ve never mentioned it, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he echoed in a low voice.
They both sat staring into the fire for a few minutes. From the depths of the house came the distant, familiar sound of a clock chiming three times.
“Everyone knows that sentimental women are also nosy and malicious,” the librarian said suddenly. “So tell me, why did you and she part?”
The Man in the Wing Chair looked at her with amusement.
“If there’s one thing I’m sure of, Prudencia, it’s that you’re not a nosy person.”
Miss Prim smiled and got up to remove her coat.
“No, I’m not, but I’m keen on sociology, remember? I’m interested in human nature.”
“Sociologists aren’t interested in human nature. They just study human behavior in social groups, which is more limited and much less interesting.”
The librarian regarded her employer calmly. She was determined not to be provoked. It wouldn’t be easy, of course—nothing with him ever was—and she would be naive to expect otherwise.
“Did you leave her?”
“No.”
“That’s gallant of you, but it’s not true.”
“If you know it’s not true then why are you asking me? You don’t know me at all if you think I’m going to brag about leaving a woman,” he said sharply.
Miss Prim bit her lip and shifted position. This was going to be hard, very hard, extraordinarily hard.
“I’m sure you would have had a compelling reason. I know I have no right to ask about it.”
“You’re right. You don’t.”
Under normal circumstances she would have left it there.
Deeply embarrassed, she would have mumbled an apology and fled upstairs.
But these were definitely not normal circumstances.
This evening Miss Prim felt possessed by a feverish urge to question him, to press beyond the bounds of courtesy, prudence, even common sense.
She wanted to know the truth, she needed to know it and she wouldn’t back down.
“Was it because of your ideas? Because you’re deeply religious and she isn’t?”
He stared thoughtfully at the cup his employee was resting on her knees. Then he gave a gentle shake of the head and smiled.
“Ideas, Prudencia? You think faith is an idea? An ideology? Like market economics, or communism, or animal rights?” Now his tone was slightly mocking.
“In a way, yes,” she replied stiffly. “It’s a way of seeing the world, a view on how existence should be, as well as a big help in easing life’s problems.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“Of course. And partly because of you. Why else would a sensible, intelligent, rational person try to convert?”
With a half smile, he leaned his head in his hands.
“Try? You are absolutely priceless, Miss Prim.”
“That’s not intended as a compliment, is it?” she murmured sadly.
The Man in the Wing Chair rose and went to the fireplace. He picked up the poker, stirred the fire, and stared into the flames.
“Nobody tries to convert, Prudencia. I told you once, but you clearly didn’t understand. Have you ever seen an adult playing with a child, running away and pretending to be caught? The child thinks he’s caught the adult, but anyone watching knows perfectly well what’s really happened.”
“Console-toi, tu ne me chercherais pas si tu ne m’avais trouvé, isn’t that so?” she said softly. “ ‘You would not seek me if you had not found me’?”
“Exactly. You’ve read Pascal. Nobody begins the search unless they’ve already found what they’re looking for.
And no one finds what they’re looking for—the One they’re looking for—if that One doesn’t take the initiative and allow Himself to be found.
It’s a game in which one player holds all the cards. ”
“You make it sound as if belief was impossible to resist, but that’s not true. You can say no. The child can say to the adult: ‘I’m not playing, leave me alone.’ ”
The Man in the Wing Chair drained his cup. Then, adjusting his position, he stared directly at his employee.
“Of course you can say no. And in many ways that makes life much simpler. It’s common even for someone who says yes to look back and realize that he’s said no many times during his life.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Life is much simpler when you say no? Life is much simpler and easier to bear if you believe it doesn’t end in a coffin underground. You can’t deny it; it’s common sense.”
He got up and tended the fire again.
“As a theoretical belief it can serve as a wild card for a time, undoubtedly. But theoretical beliefs don’t save anyone. Faith isn’t theoretical, Prudencia. Conversion is about as theoretical as a shot to the head.”
Miss Prim again bit her lip. The conversation was not going as she’d hoped.
This was all proving very revealing, but she didn’t want to talk about conversion, she didn’t want to talk about religion at all.
The only thing she wanted to know was why the “shot to the head” had caused his relationship with Herminia Treaumont to end.
“So was that the reason?” she asked stubbornly. “Was that why you left her?”
He looked at her in silence for a few seconds, as if trying to guess what lay behind the question.
“Would you think it ridiculous if it were?”
“I’d think you didn’t really love her.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said firmly.
“I did love her. I loved her very much. But the day came, or maybe the moment, I don’t know, when I realized that she was asleep, whereas I was fully, absolutely, and totally awake.
I’d climbed like a cat up onto a roof and I could see a beautiful, terrible, mysterious landscape stretching out before me.
Did I really love her? Of course I did. Perhaps if I’d loved her less, cared for her less, I wouldn’t have had to leave her. ”
Miss Prim, who had begun to feel a familiar pain in her stomach, cleared her throat before replying.
“I thought the religious were closer to other people than anyone else.”
“I can’t speak for anyone else, Prudencia.
I only know what it’s meant to me and I don’t claim to speak for others.
It’s been my touchstone, the line that’s split my life in two and given it absolute meaning.
But I’d be lying if I said it’s been easy.
It’s not easy, and anyone who says it is is fooling themselves.
It was catharsis, a shocking trauma, open-heart surgery, like a tree torn from the ground and replanted elsewhere.
Like what one imagines a child experiences during the beautiful, awesome process of birth. ”
The Man in the Wing Chair paused.
“And there’s something else,” he continued, “something to do with looking beyond the moment, with the need to scan the horizon, to scrutinize it as keenly as a sailor studies his charts. Don’t be surprised, Prudencia.
My story is as old as the world. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last. I know what you’re thinking.
Would I turn back if I could? No, of course not.
Would a newly awoken man willingly go back to the sleepwalking life? ”
Miss Prim pulled her dressing gown tightly around her and stared at her hands, toasted pink by the heat of the fire.
So in the end, it was all true. How naive she’d been to think that it was only a part of his personality.
How dim of her not to sense that whatever it was that had changed him, it was something powerful, something profound and troubling.
Herminia was right. She had never seen that look blazing in his eyes before.
The force, the conviction, the strange, savage joy.
“Then there’s no hope,” she whispered with regret. “Is there?”
He gave her a long, pensive look before replying.
“Hope, Prudencia? Of course there’s hope. I have hope. My whole life is pure hope.”
She rose and picked up the tray.
“It’s very late. If you don’t mind, I’m going back to bed. I’m tired and, unlike you, I do lack hope tonight.”
Before the Man in the Wing Chair could reply, Miss Prim had closed the library door quietly behind her.