Cihlar & Egeler - The Saint and her Fool

Oh, how her belief, the indelible belief of a child, shines in her grey eyes. Isn’t the ringing coming closer? Her brown rags are covered in tiny, silver snow stars so that it could be Cinderella’s dress, sent from her mother’s grave. Her pupils widen, their grey irises now delicate rings around black centres, and she slides down, takes his hand and pulls him along with her. There, deep below the hanging pine trees, is an archway of golden fire. As if opening the doors of heaven, it leads to the gothic silver hall of trees, the most beautiful boulevard in the world. Now it is evident: This is what they have been waiting for – the trees in their silver armour, the delicate fawn and the bird which had shown her the way, fluttering ahead in his red-feathered cap.

Snuggled together, they stand there, and the child wraps her little arms around the man’s strong arm that is hanging down by his side. At this moment a fine golden thread connects one heart to the other, a ribbon woven with the gold from heaven’s gate. And with the child’s head nestled in his hand, he feels a surge within him, as if touched by the finest fabric in a divine bond. He turns his eyes towards her, still half blinded by gazing into the fiery appearance of the golden arch. The shawl has slipped down and her enlightened face, shining in blessed expectation and delight, is surrounded by her shimmering golden hair. He sees a fiery ring glowing around her head and feels a shiver go through his soul as if it had touched a celestial being.

Then the arch fades away, a final flame in the sky covering the forest in a glow as of thousands upon thousands of red, withering roses. And now grey shadows arise, turning the trees into ghosts. The oak tree seems to be winding its snake-like arms ominously up towards the dark sky. This moment, this unique moment, is over. But not quite yet because the little maiden with her golden mane and resembling a butterfly just emerged from its brown sheathing, speaks in a high-pitched but solemn voice:

„Oh, aren’t you glad that everything is true? And that we saw the Christkind ?”

„Did you see it?” he asks softly.

„I saw the golden arch and the bright sky and then after that, red wreaths hanging all over the forest. The angels cast them down from heaven! Did you not see the red roses aflame and looking so beautiful? They were all over the trees, and the bush over there had seven golden crowns.”

„I saw it all. And you, my little Rose, you were also wearing a crown.”

„I was wearing one, too? Am I still wearing it?”

„Now it has faded away.”

„See how the trees are now turning grey and wrapping themselves in veils because they would like to go to sleep. I, too, am tired now. I am so tired I feel like crying. Tired, I think, from feeling overjoyed.”

„So you feel... overjoyed?”

„You know, when you are so full of joy that it hurts.”

„My little Saint Rose,” he says, his voice deep with compassion. „We must hurry now, I shall carry you.”

He tears off his waistcoat to cover her with it and lifts her up into his arms that are now only clad in white shirt sleeves.

„Don’t you need a little girl in your ruins? I do not eat much. But you mustn’t permit anyone to enter and you must promise that no one will see me. Otherwise they will come and take me back because they need to have me, even if I am only a girl. It is such a shame that Mother did not take me with her and leave my brother here instead.”

„They need to have you?”

He looks into the pale little face that is framed by golden hair and lying on his shoulder and it is beginning to dawn on him: the fine line of the nose, the eyes a touch too big, the face with those high cheekbones … the Royal Family of Brauneck!

„Your Highness! For heaven’s sake! How long have you been away from home? Is there no one out searching for you?”

„Why are you speaking to me with such formality all of a sudden? Then I shall have to speak formally to you, too. I have no one else I can be informal with, no one to confide in, when Father is not at home.”

Poor little Princess, poor lonely little Saint Rose; he has no choice but to take her back to her golden cage. So trustingly she wraps her arms around his neck while he hurries home in long strides. He is indeed aware of the fact that the Duke of Brauneck’s only daughter lives in the old castle with its mighty towers that hover over the lovely valley. He also knows that the Duke is mostly elsewhere, only returning to his residence for formal occasions or for hunting, and that the child is often alone in the castle. People whisper about this child with a certain shrug of their shoulders so he had imagined the girl to be a sort of imbecile and a bitter disappointment to the Royal Family. The Duke only has this one child, but once, ten years ago, there had been two sons, one who had died at the age of three and the other who had passed away along with his mother only a few days after he was born; and all three had died of diphtheria. Up to now the Duke had not remarried, yet this would be necessary if he wished to secure the survival of the family line.

But why haven’t the hunters and their dogs swarmed out into the forest? Why aren’t the storm bells ringing in the village churches? They must be looking for her! But, of course, she has walked for hours to get here and they could not possibly have imagined her making it this far. He is startled at the thought of what might have happened to her, had he not felt drawn into the forest today. He had gone out to quench the loneliness in his heart with the splendour of the forest so as to forget the burning within him, this bitter yearning for just one single tender-hearted soul.

„Are you asleep, my little Rose?”

„No, it is so nice to be carried by you. You are taking me to your ruins, aren’t you? Like Snow White beyond the seven hills! Of course, you are not a dwarf but rather almost a giant and you can look down on everyone and I would like to grow as tall as you are. You are strong and you do not have to fear the darkness.”

„Maybe I do fear the darkness. Maybe I am afraid.”

„Now?”

„No, not now.” He feels as though it is a lie. „But should your father no longer have a child?”

„You do not have a child either.”

„Every child stays with its father.”

„So I shall have to return? Oh, do not say that! I do not want to. I would rather stay here even if the trees are now terrifying in their sheets of white. Dead people surely look the same, as stiff and white as in the nightmares I sometimes have. I shall stay here. Now that everyone is upset with me, they will all speak at the same time and their voices will sound like menacing saws and I shall not be permitted to hold my hands to my ears. And I have ruined the cape.”

„How well you speak, Rose, and you think you will not find the proper words? Why don’t you explain everything to your dear father?”

„Why should I? They expect me to be especially well-behaved when he is at home. You should know that it is not good behaviour to whine about things to Miss Whart.”

„My dear Rose, your German is wonderful. It is all in your own style. You surely have a Miss Whart to speak English to and also someone for French?”

„Mademoiselle went to Anvers during her vacation and Miss Whart has a migraine and Miss Braun – well, this is a big secret and I am only telling you because you surely do not gossip – she went to Karl.”

„I see, to Karl.”

„He will certainly marry her one day and then she will buy herself a velvet sofa so she will not have to be ashamed when visitors come. Every decent person needs one.”

Now she is greatly startled, realising that he most likely does not have a nice-looking sofa in his ruins, and winces at the thought of having perhaps hurt his feelings. She quickly kisses his ear, which is directly at her lips and also not as unshaven as his face.