Chapter 15

They silently walked side by side on the short way back to the tavern. Don Diego had a stony and inscrutable face, as if shutting himself to the rest of the world around him; and Victoria still didn't know what to tell him to melt the thin crust of ice that constantly built up between them at every opportunity, every silence, as soon as it was only the two of them left, without any third party to act either as a pretext for conversation or as a buffer between them.

That was not unlike this layer of frost which in wintry weather forms at the surface of still waters, when there is no ripple.

She ventured a sidelong glance to watch Don Diego out of the corner of her eye. But what she saw on his face was not a visage anymore, it was a mask. Static, fixed, nothing transpiring from it: it was impossible to tell what expression it sported.

He was probably still resenting her a little bit, but mostly he refused to let show his deep worry over Felipe: despite the reassuring words Diego had told the young man, Victoria knew that if the still anonymous traveller did never regain consciousness, if ever her fever worsened and got the better of her physical resistance, it would not be that easy to prove Felipe's innocence. And as, to top it all, he would also have to answer for a charge of homicide...

Victoria winced. She had to find a more pleasant idea to wipe this one from her mind.

Her thoughts went back to Felipe, to his lucky star which had put Don Diego on his path more than ten years ago. When he had just discovered horror, violence, war, as well as the loss of his parents and of all that had been his world so far. Sometimes a light comes on and shines in the darkest of night and despair...

Don Diego loved Felipe beyond possible, and was forcing himself to be strong for him, not to let anything show. This commanded admiration, especially coming from a man who was usually not particularly renowned for his strength of character. It was all about motivation, apparently. A matter of finding the right stimulus. Diego's strength was perhaps just lying deeper than everyone thought, but perhaps was it also all the more forceful and determined since it was concealed and quiet, almost lying low.

Not for a single moment he had doubted. Herself, on the other hand... She still had a little trouble fully forgiving him the cold outburst and the hint of condescension he had aimed at her a just few hours ago, but she could understand that for his part he still resented her for having a more wavering trust in Felipe than he had himself.

Damn, why on earth was it so hard for her to offer a sincere apology? To say it aloud? She was not used to openly acknowledge her faults to someone she had wronged. The words had decidedly quite some trouble forming in her mouth and remained stuck at the early stage of a mere idea. Perhaps he'd manage to read her mind so that she wouldn't have to go through the painful stage of the mea culpa?

Or instead of due apologies, maybe some kind word would smooth the rough edges somewhat, for a start?

"Felipe is really lucky to have you," she finally said to start the conversation.

He slowed his steps, looking thoughtful. His face changed, she saw him muse on what she had just said, then a faraway look clouded his eyes, as if he was looking at something inwardly, in his mind or his memories ; he finally replied:

"No, I am lucky to have him. You cannot imagine how much. He is... the best thing that life has given me."

He paused a moment while he stopped walking and stood still, then he finally looked at her in the eyes.

"Do you believe in Divine Providence, Victoria?"

She didn't know what to answer. Did she believe in it?

"Sometimes It hides in the most understated recesses, in the most discreet crannies," he said, "and sometimes in circumstances that yet would seem the furthest from what might make us think about It. When everything goes wrong, when you think that all is lost, that nothing will ever be right again... When It crossed my path I've not been able to recognise It, as anxious as I was to find someone to whom handing over this little boy I had just found on the remains of a battlefield. I was mourning my uncle, I was discovering the horrors of war, and Felipe for his part had just lost his father, his mother, his hearing and his speech within a few minutes two days before. Not the best circumstances to rejoice over meeting a new face, over sheer happenchance. Nor to acknowledge that this happenchance might not be one, after all."

He paused, his eyes staring so far away into space that Victoria could have sworn he was actually reliving this scene.

"Even when I finally brought Felipe back here with me I didn't any more recognised that Providence which most definitely knows how to hide. To me then, it had still been sheer chance. Serendipity, a lucky coincidence, but a coincidence all the same... Only a few years ago did I understand. I think sometimes Providence hides in order not to frighten us. If back then I had known that, by deciding to take with me this lost, deaf, mute and terrified little boy I was going to become a father, the very young man I was then might have taken to his heels. I would have left him in the first orphanage I happened to find and would have carried on in my own merry way and with my life as it was before. And that would have been the biggest mistake of my life..."

It was so rare to hear Don Diego truly open up that Victoria didn't dare interrupt.

"It would have been the biggest mistake of my life, the biggest failure, the worst waste for me, and today I wouldn't even know anything about it. That's the saddest thing, all in all: missing something by a hair's breadth and never knowing about that. Thankfully I didn't miss Felipe out. Perhaps that's what Providence is... God incognito, sneaking among us to improve one's life and make it better..."

"God with a mask?" Victoria asked with a smile. "I wonder what Padre Benitez would think of your interpretation."

"I'll make sure to ask him..." Diego replied thoughtfully. "But yes, you're right: chance is perhaps God's mask..."

Never before had she had this kind of discussion with Don Diego. She was beginning to understand why he had so loved attending salons and other circles of thinkers and brilliant minds back then in Spain. It felt... stimulating. And he surely missed it. But anyway, if he seemed to easily discourse on these topics, Victoria, as for her, felt she was reaching her own limitations in that matter and was afraid she couldn't measure up to him if he steered the discussion and these abstract notions further and higher.

Another reason why he was so fond of Felipe? Was the boy able to follow him up to these... 'heights of mind', despite his deafness and muteness?

Victoria felt a little frustrated, although Don Diego did nothing to make her feel inferior nor patronised her. He was obviously a superior and very cultured mind, and yet he didn't flaunt it, his mild and reserved – even a bit… tepid? – nature making him prefer discretion to ostentation. Decidedly, the woman who would manage to put a ring on it – if indeed such a woman did exist – would be very lucky and have gained a true treasure.

Now what of that woman he had once briefly talked about – or rather mentioned... The one he loved – or at least had loved, he'd never talked again about her since then – in secret without ever daring to declare his burning affections... Surely she was up to him, was his match in matters of the mind...

Anyway, if ever this mysterious woman was now ancient history to Diego, it would certainly take a woman of that kind to make his heart beat faster. With him, heart was probably closely related to brains.

Such a woman, if only she existed, would indeed be very lucky, Victoria reflected.

But enough digression and rambling about Don Diego's very hypothetical love life: what concerned her was his friendship. Their friendship. And after that substantive little discussion, it seemed to be on a better track, on the path of healing. It was indeed like an open wound covered with a scab, the flesh was perhaps still raw underneath, it pricked and tugged a little at the skin, but at least the wound had stopped bleeding and the itching was a sign that the skin was working to rebuild itself. If nothing too brisk were to happen, Victoria was now confident that their friendship would gradually heal.