Is it Yuletide yet?
Is It Yuletide Yet? is cracking me up, you guys.
We have our own personal Christmas miracle here -- the miracle of tripe! Many thanks to
vom_marlowe for the tip. We were having very little luck getting our gravely ill dog to eat anything, even people food, but she actually gets excited about the tripe, and will even eat anything else that we mix in with the tripe. It is not an exaggeration to say that it has saved her life. Sunday night, she couldn't even stand up on her own. Today, she walked all the way across the room (to get to her tripe!) and stood up while she ate. She's probably put a couple pounds back on already, too. We have hope!
I'd love to share the joy by writing some Yuletide Treats tonight, but I am pretty much incapable of impromptu writing. My ideas need to marinate. Sometime for years ::cough::. I finished a much-delayed Sweet Charity story earlier this month. The recipient, eldritchhobbit, was incredibly gracious about the delay, and gave me permission to share the story publicly. You may remember a couple years ago I posted a review of a Swedish gothic, The Magic Goblet, by Emilie Flygare-Carlen (1845). I still recommend the book highly -- this story does contain major spoilers for the book, so be aware of that.
Bloom had in his possession a copy of the judgment which sundered forever the bonds of marriage between Maria and her husband. He traveled now to Fredsberg to give the papers to her. It was ever his desire to advise Maria wisely and disinterestedly, but he was forced to admit that with the completion of the divorce, it was no longer possible to determine where her best interests lay without consideration of his own.
Maria was free now to return to Norway or to travel wheresoever she wished; Seiler had at least ensured that she would be free from material want, whatever else she might lack. How could Bloom advise her to return to the neighborhood of her previous home, where the surroundings could only remind her of unbearable losses? Yet how could he advise her to settle elsewhere, when he could serve her and protect her so much more capably if he were always at hand? And at the back of his mind was a third choice: if she desired it of him, he might leave his estate behind forever and follow her into an exile of her choosing. He felt a deep affection for the fields and woodlots he had tended for so many years, and he had always intended to spend the rest of his life in the comfortable home he had made for himself there. But whenever he allowed himself to imagine a new life with Maria at his side, the two of them depending entirely upon each other as they carved a place for themselves out of strange surroundings, he felt such a surge of energy that he could almost believe himself a young man again.
The bracing sea winds tugged at him, and the salt spray leapt from the waves as the prow of his sloop cut through them. In ancient times they called this the whales' road, and in an unaccustomed flight of fancy, the sunlight on the waves seemed to form a gleaming path that could carry him, with Maria, to the ends of the earth, if he asked it.
Fancy, though, was Seiler's sphere, and as Bloom rushed to Maria's side, still unsure of what he would say to her, he spared a thought for his old friend. He had said farewell to Seiler in the judge's chambers where the judgment had been handed down. Seiler had clasped Bloom's shoulders and commended Maria into his care one last time, and with frank and genuine feeling Bloom had wished him joy with his Alfhild.
If one were to demand from Bloom an answer, as to whether genius provides justification for selfishness and the abrogation of God's laws, Bloom could only answer in the negative. Yet this principle sat uncomfortably with his abiding love for his friend. The light of joy had shone in Seiler's eyes as he took his leave, and Bloom had been struck yet again by the nobility of Seiler's aspect. He was a man without parallel, and he brought to Bloom's life an energy, even a beauty, that despite all that had transpired, he would not willingly do without.
Bloom could only pray that God would bring some clarity to his thoughts, as the waves sped beneath his boat and the wind pushed him ever closer to the harbor of Fredsberg.
***
The voices of children calling down on the strand drew Maria's attention from her needlework. It is the way of children everywhere to find excitement in even the most uneventful circumstance, Maria reminded herself. Her last letter from Bloom had told her that the judge would hear Seiler's petition soon, but the date had not yet been fixed. Thus, she tried sternly to quell the feeling of anticipation in her breast as she turned to look out the window toward the sea. The noontime sun blazed on the white sails of a ship still far out from the shore. It was not a boat of the local fisherfolk, that much Maria could tell, and with a word to Eliza she abandoned her sewing and hurried down the rocky path. Long familiarity allowed her to skip nimbly from one rock to the next, and soon she was on the shore, patting smooth her hair and brushing sand from her skirts as the children laughed fondly at her haste. Maria laughed, too, at the absurdity of herself acting like a young girl awaiting a suitor.
For three long years, the day of judgment had seemed to loom before her like an open grave, as if the final dissolution of her marriage could only mean the death of the woman called Madame Seiler. Yet in the last few months, as the dreadful day approached, Maria had been astonished to find within herself a renewed interest in life. It was a feeling she had not been able to confide to anyone, not even to Bloom, because it seemed to her worthy of ridicule. What could a divorced woman possibly expect from life but the scorn of society and the everlasting awareness of her own failure? But Maria felt in some way that she had been born anew, and like the children frolicking around her she had begun to rediscover wonder in even the most commonplace elements of life.
Looking out to sea again, it became entirely clear that this was indeed the vessel that brought her dear friend to her. Maria could hardly give name to the confused welter of feelings that assailed her now. She could only clasp her hands before her and await his arrival.
***
Bloom leapt from his landing boat onto the shore, scarcely noticing the children who pulled his boat further up the shingle. He had eyes only for Maria, who stood still as he approached. She was wide-eyed in the grip of some emotion, but which he could not say, for her face showed him no other clue. “Maria!” he cried, and took her hands in his. She grasped his hands tightly and did not let go, but still she said no word. “Dearest Maria,” he said, shifting his grip to lace his fingers through hers, and before he could finish his next thought, which was to apologize for his sudden boldness and withdraw his hands from hers, she smiled at him, a smile of such joy as he had never seen from her before.
An answering smile lit his own face, and his gaze held hers in a long moment of wordless communion that resolved all his confusions in the most hopeful and pleasant manner that could be imagined.
“Dearest Bloom,” Maria replied. “I believe Eliza has some coffee left. Will you join me?” She stepped back, drawing him toward the path, one hand still in his.
“Of course I shall,” he said. “Where you lead, I will follow.”
“I believe that our history shows that neither one of us leads the other, but that in consultation with each other we reach mutual decisions that serve us wonderfully well.” She smiled again, and they began to climb the path.
“I believe you are right,” Bloom said, “and perhaps after coffee, we may consult with each other again.”
“I look forward to it, very much.”
And with that, their happy fate was sealed. They would not find out until weeks later that on that very same day that they ascended that sunlit peak together, another couple, doomed to tragedy, found their eternal rest together in the cold earth. Each year on that day, they remembered that sorrow, along with their own unceasing joy.
The End
This entry was originally posted at http://loligo.dreamwidth.org/386826.html.
comments on that entry. Please comment there using OpenID.
We have our own personal Christmas miracle here -- the miracle of tripe! Many thanks to
vom_marlowe for the tip. We were having very little luck getting our gravely ill dog to eat anything, even people food, but she actually gets excited about the tripe, and will even eat anything else that we mix in with the tripe. It is not an exaggeration to say that it has saved her life. Sunday night, she couldn't even stand up on her own. Today, she walked all the way across the room (to get to her tripe!) and stood up while she ate. She's probably put a couple pounds back on already, too. We have hope!
I'd love to share the joy by writing some Yuletide Treats tonight, but I am pretty much incapable of impromptu writing. My ideas need to marinate. Sometime for years ::cough::. I finished a much-delayed Sweet Charity story earlier this month. The recipient, eldritchhobbit, was incredibly gracious about the delay, and gave me permission to share the story publicly. You may remember a couple years ago I posted a review of a Swedish gothic, The Magic Goblet, by Emilie Flygare-Carlen (1845). I still recommend the book highly -- this story does contain major spoilers for the book, so be aware of that.
Bloom had in his possession a copy of the judgment which sundered forever the bonds of marriage between Maria and her husband. He traveled now to Fredsberg to give the papers to her. It was ever his desire to advise Maria wisely and disinterestedly, but he was forced to admit that with the completion of the divorce, it was no longer possible to determine where her best interests lay without consideration of his own.
Maria was free now to return to Norway or to travel wheresoever she wished; Seiler had at least ensured that she would be free from material want, whatever else she might lack. How could Bloom advise her to return to the neighborhood of her previous home, where the surroundings could only remind her of unbearable losses? Yet how could he advise her to settle elsewhere, when he could serve her and protect her so much more capably if he were always at hand? And at the back of his mind was a third choice: if she desired it of him, he might leave his estate behind forever and follow her into an exile of her choosing. He felt a deep affection for the fields and woodlots he had tended for so many years, and he had always intended to spend the rest of his life in the comfortable home he had made for himself there. But whenever he allowed himself to imagine a new life with Maria at his side, the two of them depending entirely upon each other as they carved a place for themselves out of strange surroundings, he felt such a surge of energy that he could almost believe himself a young man again.
The bracing sea winds tugged at him, and the salt spray leapt from the waves as the prow of his sloop cut through them. In ancient times they called this the whales' road, and in an unaccustomed flight of fancy, the sunlight on the waves seemed to form a gleaming path that could carry him, with Maria, to the ends of the earth, if he asked it.
Fancy, though, was Seiler's sphere, and as Bloom rushed to Maria's side, still unsure of what he would say to her, he spared a thought for his old friend. He had said farewell to Seiler in the judge's chambers where the judgment had been handed down. Seiler had clasped Bloom's shoulders and commended Maria into his care one last time, and with frank and genuine feeling Bloom had wished him joy with his Alfhild.
If one were to demand from Bloom an answer, as to whether genius provides justification for selfishness and the abrogation of God's laws, Bloom could only answer in the negative. Yet this principle sat uncomfortably with his abiding love for his friend. The light of joy had shone in Seiler's eyes as he took his leave, and Bloom had been struck yet again by the nobility of Seiler's aspect. He was a man without parallel, and he brought to Bloom's life an energy, even a beauty, that despite all that had transpired, he would not willingly do without.
Bloom could only pray that God would bring some clarity to his thoughts, as the waves sped beneath his boat and the wind pushed him ever closer to the harbor of Fredsberg.
***
The voices of children calling down on the strand drew Maria's attention from her needlework. It is the way of children everywhere to find excitement in even the most uneventful circumstance, Maria reminded herself. Her last letter from Bloom had told her that the judge would hear Seiler's petition soon, but the date had not yet been fixed. Thus, she tried sternly to quell the feeling of anticipation in her breast as she turned to look out the window toward the sea. The noontime sun blazed on the white sails of a ship still far out from the shore. It was not a boat of the local fisherfolk, that much Maria could tell, and with a word to Eliza she abandoned her sewing and hurried down the rocky path. Long familiarity allowed her to skip nimbly from one rock to the next, and soon she was on the shore, patting smooth her hair and brushing sand from her skirts as the children laughed fondly at her haste. Maria laughed, too, at the absurdity of herself acting like a young girl awaiting a suitor.
For three long years, the day of judgment had seemed to loom before her like an open grave, as if the final dissolution of her marriage could only mean the death of the woman called Madame Seiler. Yet in the last few months, as the dreadful day approached, Maria had been astonished to find within herself a renewed interest in life. It was a feeling she had not been able to confide to anyone, not even to Bloom, because it seemed to her worthy of ridicule. What could a divorced woman possibly expect from life but the scorn of society and the everlasting awareness of her own failure? But Maria felt in some way that she had been born anew, and like the children frolicking around her she had begun to rediscover wonder in even the most commonplace elements of life.
Looking out to sea again, it became entirely clear that this was indeed the vessel that brought her dear friend to her. Maria could hardly give name to the confused welter of feelings that assailed her now. She could only clasp her hands before her and await his arrival.
***
Bloom leapt from his landing boat onto the shore, scarcely noticing the children who pulled his boat further up the shingle. He had eyes only for Maria, who stood still as he approached. She was wide-eyed in the grip of some emotion, but which he could not say, for her face showed him no other clue. “Maria!” he cried, and took her hands in his. She grasped his hands tightly and did not let go, but still she said no word. “Dearest Maria,” he said, shifting his grip to lace his fingers through hers, and before he could finish his next thought, which was to apologize for his sudden boldness and withdraw his hands from hers, she smiled at him, a smile of such joy as he had never seen from her before.
An answering smile lit his own face, and his gaze held hers in a long moment of wordless communion that resolved all his confusions in the most hopeful and pleasant manner that could be imagined.
“Dearest Bloom,” Maria replied. “I believe Eliza has some coffee left. Will you join me?” She stepped back, drawing him toward the path, one hand still in his.
“Of course I shall,” he said. “Where you lead, I will follow.”
“I believe that our history shows that neither one of us leads the other, but that in consultation with each other we reach mutual decisions that serve us wonderfully well.” She smiled again, and they began to climb the path.
“I believe you are right,” Bloom said, “and perhaps after coffee, we may consult with each other again.”
“I look forward to it, very much.”
And with that, their happy fate was sealed. They would not find out until weeks later that on that very same day that they ascended that sunlit peak together, another couple, doomed to tragedy, found their eternal rest together in the cold earth. Each year on that day, they remembered that sorrow, along with their own unceasing joy.
The End
This entry was originally posted at http://loligo.dreamwidth.org/386826.html.
comments on that entry. Please comment there using OpenID.