Chapter Twelve: Beauty and Love
Hannah's face beamed with smile as she felt Erik's presence behind her. "You are here," she turned from her writing desk to find Erik peeking through the fridge.
"An interesting device," He commented before continuing his search of the contents in the unfamiliar device. "Fruits, eggs, milk, honey and nothing else."
"There are some nuts in the cupboard," Hannah replied. "One does not need to cook when one lives direct above a café. Besides, the best food for human body requires no catering."
"You will have a hard time to convince the French of your theory. But you have persuaded me." Erik kissed her gently on the lips and whispered into her ears. "This, for instance, is the best food for my body."
Hannah whispered back, "If you continue being your charming self, you won't have time to look around this place."
"I've already had a good look. You weren't as quick in spotting me as you thought. I had been a professional ghost and was very good at my job."
"Prove it," she challenged, before bursting into laughter. "So, you saw Fanny Hill."
"May I enquire what it was doing on the book shelf that belongs to an intelligent young lady? You have a weird sense of humor, Hannah. You placed that book between Plato and Aristotle."
"I'm glad to find that I amuse you. You read it, did you not?" Hannah mocked at his fake tone of reprimand.
"I am a curious man by nature."
"No doubt. Did you like the book?"
"I liked the author's writing style, which I found rather witty. The contents were… educational. Stop trying to evade my question. I have to remind you that you still haven't answered it."
"I like the book. It ruthlessly exposes the hypocrisy of a society that preaches so-called female virtues. It makes me laugh to think what outrage the book must have caused by allowing the heroine not to feel repentant and giving her a happy ending. I like the character. She is blatantly honest about herself and her desires. I like her and laugh with her."
"Were you laughing at Plato and Aristotle?"
"I was laughing at myself. Philosophers should learn to live a bit. So should I."
"You are living, Hannah." He smiled. "I can see that, when you are with me."
"It's funny that I feel more alive in my dreams. When I am awake, I am so good at detaching myself from everything. I cannot feel overwhelming passion for any object in my conscious world. Every emotion is toned down. I am quite safe, because of that. The only thing that seems to interest me is to know who I am and what I want."
"That's why you wear a mask… because you think you don't stand a chance against the weight of reality. You think it might crush you."
"I don't think I can make a history. Only courageous or reckless individuals can change the world. I sometimes think, though, I am missing out on something. I have been too good at protecting myself from any possibility of losing myself to passion."
"That's not a bad thing," he said softly. "Not when I am not in your world."
"You are really possessive. Are you not?"
Erik saw Hannah frowning a little, but knew that she was trying not to show her amusement. She wasn't mad at him. She was incapable of being angry with him, just as he never experienced that particular emotion towards her.
Wrapping Hannah's shoulder gently with his arm, Erik started to closely examine one of Hannah's sketches on the white wall above her bed. His eyes were drawn to a naked woman, her hands bind by rope behind her back, surrounded by a hysteric, fanatic crowd. Behind her, there were other naked women bound by the same fate, their half-closed eyes facing the ground and their faces contorted with shame and fear. But the woman in front held her head high, and there was a glimpse of pride in her almost stoic eyes. He could not help but find her beautiful.
"I have seen them in one of my dreams," Hannah offered an explanation. "They were found guilty of corrupting female virtues and were sentenced to be burnt at stake, after being paraded through the village."
Hannah's voice momentarily faltered in sadness. "Then I saw her and her triumph. She found her dignity, despite the public humiliation and the harrowing fear of painful death. The cruelty of the world could not break her spirit. This I found beautiful. Not all suffering is beautiful. But she created beauty in that moment of despair, and it touched me."
"You think beauty is inexplicably linked to sadness and inner struggle?"
"Beauty is the triumph of the individual," Hannah observed, "which transcends time and space to reach the depth of other hearts."
His eyes moved to other sketches. These were the sketches of love and longing, restrained passion that was achingly sad and hauntingly beautiful. He saw a man looking at a woman who just stabbed him on the back during his sleep, who betrayed his trust and refused to return his passion. Yet, his eyes still spoke love, despite the pain, confusion and anguish. It didn't matter whether she deserved his love. That was the mystery about love. Its beauty could not be denied by its desirability.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Hannah asked.
"It is his moment of triumph," Erik mused. "Human hearts crave for that beauty. They crave for love itself. My love for Christine was hopeless, its only outcome despair. Yet, for that very reason, it was safe from disappointment. I never really had to know who she was. I knew so many things about her. Yet, I never knew her."
Erik's thoughts intently searched Hannah's, asking the question that both intrigued and concerned him. Why, Hannah? Why do you let me pursue Christine?
And he heard the answer. Because Erik I have to know. I have to find out what Christine really means to you. Your obsession with Christine is an important part of your conscious self. And I must know all of you even if it breaks my heart.
Erik looked at her stubborn eyes and shook his head. "Then, Hannah," he said with a sigh of resignation. "We are just as bad as each other."
"Indeed," Hannah replied. "Così fan tutte?I love the opera. I can almost hear Mozart laughing."
Author's note: In case some of you do not already know, Così fan tutte is an opera by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.
Very briefly, the plot is: Two officers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, accept a challenge from Don Alfonso, who claims that he can prove that their fiancées, like all women, are fickle in a day's time. They disguise themselves in a bid to seduce each other's lover. After executing a series of hilarious schemes, they manage to achieve their goal. In the end, all is revealed and forgiven.
I am sure you can guess why Erik wanted the piece performed in his opera house.