Chapter 3: A Lonely, Silent Life
Two weeks later, in the evening, I was sitting on my bed, reading a book ("Житие Александра Невского") by candlelight. I set the book down, picked up my clock, wound it, and set it down. The music played. I picked up my book and resumed reading.
"What?!" my grandfather yelled from outside.
I looked to my door in fright. I heard footsteps. The door opened.
Christophe entered the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He was shocked.
"Is everything all right, Grandfather?" I asked him.
My grandfather slowly approached me and sat to my right on the bed. "Sonia,...I have some terrible news."
He paused for me to prepare myself. I set my book down.
"It's about your parents."
He paused again. I trembled.
"They were caught up in a peasant revolt. The villagers...blamed them for their troubles. I'm sorry, Sonia. Your parents are dead."
"What?!" I screamed.
I was in shock, which slowly changed to sadness. I started crying. My grandfather hugged me with his left arm and pulled me to himself. I sobbed against his chest.
In that moment, my entire world shattered.
The funerals for my parents were held once their bodies were brought back to us. My grandfather stood with me. Various servants and dignitaries were also present.
My grandfather raised me from that time. He continued to teach me as my parents had, including how to ride a horse, dance, and play the harpsichord. I also kept up my writing.
Another Biblical passage that stood out to me:
"Et lux in tenebris lucet et tenebrae eam non conprehenderunt."
He made certain that I kept up my studies and furthered my education. Yet we hardly ever spoke to each other. I suppose we both simply preferred the silence. The silence of the daylight. The silence of the night.
The terrible silence.