I am the worst updater ever

I am the worst updater ever. Feel free to come at me with torches and pitchforks, I deserve it. Just a note, I'm well aware the opera L'Amour de Loin wasn't written until 2000 but it just seemed to fit.

The next morning I woke early and watched the walls of my room. After an hour or so of nothing but this, I began to sing softly to myself and play the music of the little beaver skin bear. I felt as though I had done something terribly wrong, although I couldn't explain why.

Suddenly words came to me, and from my mouth they left. They were the words of Clémence from the opera L'Amour de Loin when she spoke of poor Jaufré. "No, by Our Saviour, I do not suffer. Perhaps one day I shall suffer, but by the Grace of God no, I do not suffer yet. His songs are more than caresses, and I do not know whether I would love the man as well as I love the poet. I do not know if I would love his voice as much as I love his music. No, by Our Savior, I do not suffer. Doubtless I should suffer if I waited for this man and he came not. But I do not wait for him. To know that over there, in his country, a man thinks of me, I feel myself suddenly close to the land of my childhood. I am the poet's overseas love and the poet is my overseas love. Between our two shores sail tender words, Between our two live sails music... No, by Our Lord, I do not suffer. No, by Our Lord, I do not wait for him. I do not wait for him..." 1

I smiled sadly to myself, unsure of why I was so upset. Jacob knocked at the door for me, "Bella, are we going out today? There's a fantastic circus set up nearby. There's no need to dress up too much. Bella?" I shook my head to myself and did not answer. If I went with him, would my Angel be upset? What was more important, the Vicomte or my Angel?

A voice then rang softly through my room, clear and resonant. It cleared my mind of all thoughts of Jacob, " She is graceful and humble and virtuous and gentle, Courageous and shy, full of fortitude and delicate, A princess with the heart of a peasant girl, a peasant girl with the heart of a princess, In a passionate voice she will sing my songs…"2

"Bella? Bella?" another voice persisted. I did not listen to it, perhaps I did not even really hear it; I was transfixed, waiting for my Angel, Jaufré, to speak to me again. Instead, my full length mirror on the wall moved to the side, revealing a secret passage. Something in my heart rang with fear at the dark, claustrophobic corridor. In the back of my mind, reason called my name, begging me to return.

I walked into the darkness. My eyes took a momentto adjust, but I could always make out the blurred image of my far away Angel. He never approached, but was always in sight for me to follow. Eventually the corridor led me to a large, beautiful room. It was lit by candles and was built around a lake which separated me from it.

"Hello?" I whispered. No response came at first and an orchestra could have kept tempo by the loud beatings of my heart. "Angel?" I whispered again, unable to speak any louder.

"You may take the boat," I heard him reply. I could see him, I knew it was him. He sat at an elaborate organand began to play. I got into the small but sturdy boat and managed to paddle it across the lake while listening to the magnificent, almost impossible designs of his music. His form was not hunched over the piano but straight and proud. I wished wholeheartedly that I could see his hands. I got out of the boat and began to walk towards him.

Abruptly, the music stopped. I was taken aback and halted myself. "Do not come any closer," he whispered, looking away.

"Jaufré?" I asked.

"Jaufré was a silly man," my Angel replied. "He worried himself to death over such a thing as the displeasure of a women he did not know. He died without knowing the fullness of true love, love that lasts, but praise God that his death did allow him to know love for a few moments."

"Does that make him so silly? Is love not the thing that every being searches and yearns for? Did not one man say that everything that is incomplete seeks completion? We are all incomplete, so I am sorry that his completion makes him all the more a fool in your eyes." Then I realized that I had been yelling. I had been less myself that day; I knew not the reasons behind my emotions and actions. So I began to stumble over a poor apology, "I'm quite, very, incredibly sorry, sir…"

He laughed a musical sound and looked at me for the first time. He was beauty incarnate. His hair turned a copper color to the little light that touched the small area. His face was a smooth, perfect pale white. I could not understand his reasons for being here. "No need to apologize," he said with a smile. "I must have upset you, how rude of me. Please accept my apologies."

I nodded dumbly. Had I been thinking more clearly, perhaps I would have considered all the implications of that. Was I upset? Why? Did he need to apologize or was he simply being a gentleman. However, I wasn't able to think anything like that at the time. I could simply drawl out a simple, "Uhh… None needed sir."

He looked towards the corridor, "I am glad that you came of your own volition." I walked closer to him and he backed away. I blushed, unaware of what trespasses I could have committed to displease him so. He stared at my cheeks and licked his lips. "I would like it if you stay down here for the night; I have a separate bed and room set aside for you. We need to work on your dancing as well as your music now."

I smiled; apparently I had not committed too great a sin and had not incurred his horrible displeasure. "Thank you very much, sir. I am actually quite tired already, I always sleep in later than three in the morning, you must understand."

He smiled and nodded. He led me to my bed and sang me to sleep. Before I fell asleep, though, I swear I heard him mutter, "Pilgrim, what have you done to me? You have given me a taste for the distant spring Where can I never, never, Slake my thirst."3

So, one more chapter is up. Sorry about all the French, but I felt weird putting it in English because the play is French. Here are the translations:

"Non, par Notre Seigneur, je ne souffre pas Peut-être qu'un jour je souffrirai mais par la grâce de Dieu, non, je ne souffre pas encore Ses chansons sons plus des caresses, et je ne sais si j'aimerais l'homme comme j'aime le poète Je ne sais si j'aimerai sa voix autant que j'aime sa musique Non, par Notre Seigneur, je ne souffre pas Sans doute je souffrirais si j'attendais cet homme et qu'il venait pas Mais je ne l'attends pas De savoir que là-bas, au pays, un homme pense à moi, Je me sens soudain proche des terres de mon enfance. Je suis l'outremer du poète est mon outremer Entre nos deux rives voyagent les mots tendres Entre nots deux vies voyage une musique... Non, par Notre Seigneur, je ne souffre pas Non, par Notre Seigneur, je ne l'attends pas Je ne l'attends pas(Act Three)."

"Elle est gracieuse et humble et vertueuse et douce, Courageuse et timide, endurante et fragile, Princesse à cœur de paysanne, paysanne à cœur de princesse, D'une voix ardente elle chantera mes chansons..."(Act One)

Pèlerin, qu'as-tu fait de moi? Tu m'as donné le gout de la source lointaine, A laquelle jamais jamais Je ne pourrai me désaltérer. (Act One)

You can read the whole opera at /amour/