La Serenissima by Secret Heart
.: Standard Disclaimer :.
Thanks to a few recent reviews, I finally got the incentive to update this near-forgotten story. Thanks for sticking by me, and for your interest!
Please Review after reading this very very belated chapter, so I can be inspired to continue writing future chapters ...
Ps: only a very short chapter here, because it is the scene linking Chapter 4 to Chapter 5. Please re-read Chapter 4 before reading this.
Dum spiro, spero
- While I breathe, I hope. (Cicero) -
Chapter 4b
And so, the day passed away.
They had been going through hundreds of manuscripts in the same manner, and yet, none of the bibliophiles were getting bored of their re-acquaintance with old texts.
Then, Serenity came across one of the medieval French romances that Endymion described before: inscribed on the front cover were the words Lancelot du Lac.
This should not have struck Endymion as any different from the previous books, but at the same time, the scene before him struck a familiar chord with his memory: the act of looking over Sery's shoulders to read the manuscript reminded him of Dante's great epic poem.
The 14th century poet condemned the infamous pair of lovers Francesca da Rimini and Paolo to the second circle of hell, due to their illicit love, born of reading together the same text that Sery and him are now reading.
Recalling the lines of Dante, Endymion wished that he could describe love poetically as effective as the legendary poet did:
"Love, that excuses no one loved from loving,
seized me so strongly with delight in him
that, as you see, he never leaves my side.
Love led us straight to sudden death together…"
Without realizing it, he began to recite the passage out loud. Serenity gave a curious look.
"… time and again our eyes were brought together
by the book we read; our faces flushed and paled.
To the moment of one line alone we yielded:
It was when we read about those longed-for lips
Now being kissed by such a famous lover,
That this one (who shall never leave my side) … "
He grew silent, slightly embarrassed that he put so much emotion into the reading of the poem.
But somehow, Serenity understood his words: she understood what he was asking for, and though she could not give it to him at this moment …
She finished the poem for him, her exquisite voice bearing the ancient words a renewed dignity.
"then kissed my mouth, and trembled as he died.
Our Galehot was that book and he wrote it.
That day we read no further…"
She paused self-consciously, her hand barely holding onto the pages of the manuscript.
Her delicate features betrayed her thoughts.
His eyes did not waver from hers. What was once a fresh evening was now thick with suppressed desires.
His body felt heavy with an emotion he could not name, simply because he had never experienced it before. He had countless lovers, certainly, with most of them experts at the art of intercourse.
But all he knew was that all those nameless women paled in comparison to her, this creature that stood in front of him, so ethereal in her spirit, yet so worldly in her knowledge.
Something changed in him. Dante could do that to a lot of people. Nevertheless, their shared knowledge of an epic poem that they had both memorized from their youthful days … it touched him, beyond words.
She was a mass of contradiction, a labyrinth of order and chaos for him to get forever lost in. He never wanted to find his way out.
Her eyes were a magnificent hue of royal blue, and all he wanted to do was hold her against him, to be trusted by her, and to be worthy of her friendship.
At the thought of that, he awoke from his short but sweet reverie.
Yes, friendship, he scorned silently.
Si, despite his utmost wants, he had to keep the atmosphere light.
He could not afford to lose her friendship, when she clearly did not want to be anything else ... to earn her trust, he must.
With a false lightheartedness that he did not possess, he managed to disentangle his thoughts and focus on reality. But Serenity beat him to it.
She broke the silence by saying: "Well, I must run along now. I have to get ready for tonight's festivities."
Disheartened that she had to leave so soon, he ventured to ask, "When will I see you again?"
"My schedule's quite booked the next week, due to the San Marco festival." She searched her memory.
"But I believe Bellini is trying to finish his painting next week. You can come by and see us at San Zaccharia".
"Ah, so Sery, you paint too?"
"Si, but that's not the reason why I will be present there."
"But why? Perché?"
"If you want to know, Endy," she smiled enigmatically, "then come next week."
"Hmm," he mused, "I like a woman with mystery."
"Però, you must be smitten with me at this point," she flirted lightly.
He arched his eyebrow. "I wouldn't be surprised if I am myself."
And without waiting for her answer, he walked off with a manuscript in hand, leaving her alone in a library that was stilled with the silent pages of history once more.
Please review! Thanks!
Note:
Couldn't resist adding the richly intertextual work of Dante Alighieri's Inferno into the storyline. Paolo & Francesca were illicit lovers who fell in love due to their shared reading of Lancelot du Lac. Anyway, reading it over now (after not touching this story for half a year) it seems very convoluted. What do you think? I think I might concentrate less on descriptions from now on ...
But! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!