Nile.
It was like a dream.
And on the opposite shore, one could see almost white sand and an immeasurably velvety sky, which curved softly and infinitely over everything.
There were gaggle of businessmen dressed in western clothes, smoking hookah, and imported cigars as they were sitting on the deck of a small riverboat, that floated serenely onwards.
A couple of hours earlier, Katherine had suffered through dinner, with their wives, or potential mistresses, all light gossip, and poor attempts at sarcasm, transparent self-
aggrandizement, and jewelry that wasn't stylish at all, because there was too much of everything, haphazard mix and match. No the natural consequence of this was that
Katherine herself had allowed herself to be as before: coldly ironic, and prickly, and with just a few words she had humiliated her table-party, as she used to some of her pupils
who had not learned their homework, in the days before Summerside, for Katherine had a reputation for being harsh, demanding, and efficient, even then.
The double moralism, of post Edwardian society outward gilding and surface gloss had always annoyed her, but she was very adept at playing by the book, when it suited her.
And more often than not, people only saw what they wanted to see.
Feeling still annoyed, she leaned against the reel, and looked at the water embroidered by the moon's reflections. She then with a golved hand dug out a letter folded many
times from her pocket. Almost involuntarily, Katherine's strained expression softened as she thought of her darling in Paris, as she was, holding the crowds at the Palace Garnier
under her sway, and a light smile crept across her usually stern, but impressive features as she glanced over letter´s smudged lines.
"Enjoy Egypt!
I can imagine you in the bazaars, in your efficent way haggling for brightly colored fabrics, and avoiding the trinket sellers, perhaps stopping at the perfume department to look f
or certain scents, myrrh, or something mystical and inviting that reminds of velvety evenings when the heat of the day slowly cools down. And there are cats running around
everywhere, like ancient little demigods. But as always, you're not blind to injustice, corruption, and exploitation, or the braggadicio of your travel-companions. If you happen to
see a sphinx in the moonlight, think of me, or rather not me, but Sophie, who purrs at my feet, all cream and vivid eyes.
I'm drowning in Mozart here.
Pamina is tearing my nerves to shreds, but her music is divine. All that hidden anxiety and pain that transforms into pure love. Opera is the art of exaggerated emotional states,
but sometimes I'd like to sing about ordinary people, not just fairy-tale characters, spirit beings or dying women, royalty or not. That Pamina has a happy ending is exceptional.
After that Strauss, I find myself wanting happy endings, in all things."
With all my love,
E.
Smiling contentedly, Katherine thought about images that Elizabeth's letter had conjured up. Softly she touched small ankh cross that hung around her neck with her fingertip,
as the hems of her cranberry red dress were swaying slightly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Sighing lightly, Katherine shook out her dark hair streaked with light silver, and rubbed her right knee. It ached these days, every night.
The days passed leisurely.
River always had its own time. Tides, you couldn't hurry them, only help them along. Sun was dazzling, as was light and lingering heat, that caressed and burned cheeks, and
ruined complexions, if one were not vigilant.
The small group of women, were in a small colorful huddle, almost as brainless as a flock of chickens, Katherine thought wryly. She was sitting hatless, as ever in upper-deck, in
her sahram-colored all had an American tang in their speech, but not a neat mid-Atlantic accent, but somehow rougher, and at the same time looser. One blonde known as Effie,
was wearing a geometric dress. She remarked, in loud carrying voice, "But Baedeker's Egypt is so extensive that Michael got a headache from it. However, I never read books
myself, who would? All you need is pretty face, and svelte looks. One can also have fun dancing. Did you notice that stiff lady in red at dinner last night, miss something or
other? She is a guaranteed old maid, a real sour-puss. She reminded me of my old governess. Oh! How Miss Palmer was an old battleax. By the way, there are some strange
names on the passenger list as this is return trip from Cairo. That one gentleman has still not been seen. He eats all his meals privately in his own cabin opposite ours. And
sometimes in the evenings, there is some old-timey music from there, on a gramophone, something from grandmothers' times. Maybe he's a millionaire? How exciting?!"
Katherine smiled to herself as a gust of wind brought out another purer voice saying "Effie, don't be so rude, and talk so loud. She might hear." Effie's brash voice appealed "Flo,
you're a real bleeding heart. That woman looks like a monsoon somewhere in Japan wouldn't faze her if she got caught in it. But now my face is peeling, so I have to go put
some lotion on my face and a clay mask. Come along, y´all. Naturally Michael ordered a full bar cabinet, so we can have fun times there."
Laughing, group walked off the deck, and as they passed Katherine, a frail, slightly colorless girl with lank mid-brown hair and large gray eyes, in a Nile green dress, that did not
suit her colours at all, smiled apologetically at her.
And almost imperceptibly Katherine nodded back.
The candles were lit, and the lavender sky glowed like a romantic dream. Glasses and decanters clinked.
With attentive eyes Katherine took in her surroundings. Effie's face glowed ruddy, and she laughed heartily, as she was ruling her table party, as she had done every day of this
journey. Suddenly a soft, shy voice said sincerely "Miss Brooke, I hope you are not offended by my cousin's words. Effie is forceful in her ways and in her opinions. And if I may
say, you are much more impressive than Miss Palmer. Your eyes are so striking, the color is similar to light amber, very exotic shade. And you seem somehow very present. I
think that you have had many adventures. Have you perhaps really been in Japan, in the monsoon season?"
Katherine looked up and in front of her stood Flo in a yellowish dress. It turned her skin grayish white. Katherine glanced searchingly into Flo's red-rimmed gray eyes, which
were nothing like Anne's twinkling gray-green eyes, or certain golden-hazel-ones, and she said softly, "Thank you for the courtesy, if that was the case. I suggest you should sit,
Miss Dryer, if you stand in front of me like that, I'm going to get a cramp in my neck. I have traveled, far and wide, in most corners of Europe and beyond. As for Japan, it was
full of enchantment..."
Katherine's voice trailed off, as she remembered the monsoon rains, water lilies quivering, and delicate kanji characters, and the fragrant, precise tea ceremonies, and her, so
laughing, wild, and alive, writing, almost haiku-style, in her impressive alexandrine-filled way. And her perfume that she had gotten from somewhere around here. One drop was
like a thousand violets, their essence distilled, like half-flowing, painful note, of yearning. And she had declared in her winsome, captivating way. "I swear to you, Katherine, that
sometime we will travel round the world together, but we will circle England afar, for no power in the world can bring me there again." And Katherine trembled, and half
whispered following verse
In this collapse of final despair
Their perfume is similar to the prayers of the Saints...
O flower between flowers!
O holy violets!
And Flo, whispered. "What you said, Miss Brooke, just now, sounded like something out of a poem. Though I don't know much about literature, or about anything really, as
everyone in my family is always reminding me of my supposed shortcomings. " And Katherine, glancing at the young girl beside her, whose face was fresh, and unlined, despite
her pallor, said calmly, with chilling self-control, " Well, families can be difficult. But please remember that you can always choose the people you share your life with. As for that
piece, it was rather, a memory and a fragment of poetry at the same time, both bleeding in each other."
Flo looked utterly befuddled, as she pondered Katherine´s words, and her delicate fingers, adorned with intricate rings, with bitten nails, skimmed the hem of her dress, which
was slightly frayed.
Then the dining gong rang brightly through the hall.
As the party flowed into the dining room in a bustling crowd, Katherine noticed that someone was already sitting at the the best corner table, that, allowed to see whole wide
room, in artful panorama, and there was a veritable swarm of waiters near. A sudden, imperial, almost silent wave of pale hand, and the waiters disappeared.
Out of the corner of her eye, Katherine examined stranger. There was something familiar about the figure. Then light fell on the wall and a sudden smile lit Katherine's eyes, and
she walked with quick steps to the table.
Grumpy, and raspy, cuttingly cynical, voice said in an extremely commanding intonation, "I said, already. Champagne, or preferably whiskey, not warm goat's milk, or meat
broth. I'm so tired of soups, and purees. If you bring them, I'll make your life very difficult. I want freshly caught fish, in a white sauce with just a little lemon and local herbs.
And I'm not at all interested in what instructions you may have received in the kitchen regarding me. Well, why are you still standing there, like you've swallowed soap. Move!"
Katherine said in a voice bursting with laughter, "I now see that the years in Switzerland haven't improved your temper in the least, Mr. Priest. You're even more sarcastic, if
possible, and more commanding than before, and that's quite an achievement. However, if you speak in that tone to everyone, it maybe that's why you travel so often.
Otherwise you might find that one fine day, some person would have snapped and slipped some broken glass into your food."
And without waiting for permission, Katherine sat down across from Dean Priest and surveyed him openly. His formerly toffee-colored hair was now completely grey-white, and
his face was narrow, and pale, and furrowed. Deep physical suffering had left its mark on him. He was shriveled and curled up, like an old gnarled oak tree, and the disproportion
of his shoulders was now, at last, very noticeable. But his eyes had retained their brightness, and their greenish color. The color of the Priests, was as captivating as before, even
if they had dimmed a bit. His slender long fingers were stiff with arthritis, but he was as carefully dressed as ever, in a black frock coat, and his handkerchief was a gray-bluish
amethyst. He was still a proper dandy to the last.
Dean Priest took a cursory glance around. A quiet commotion had filled the hall, the lamps were glowing, and the air was scented with flower arrangements. He paused for a
hair's breadth, and then said pointedly with even slicing tone. "Of all the cruises in the world, you end up here, in the middle of heat and cockroaches, but at least, tea is good if
it's not brewed too dark. There's a certain exoticism in the air. Katherine, it's been a few years since we last met. And you're right, Switzerland was a trial, but at this point I'm
still doing what I can with the time I have left. Because, as you once wrote so beautifully. I can't take my money with me to my grave. So better spend them."
Two champagne glasses clinked together as two old companions, on the stormy seas of life's paths, nodded to each other, reservedly, yet warmly.
The evening flowed serenely along, and all the while Katherine watched Dean Priest with some concern.
He ate like a bird, even though the food was excellent, and in the harsh lighting his delicate facial stucture stood out sharply through his waxy skin.
And as he drank his second whisky, noticing Katherine's lingering gaze, Dean said sharply, with a touch of irony.
"I'm not dying at this table, my dear Liberia. So drink your brandy. And if I may ask there's going to be an evening's compulsory entertainment soon. Would you perform for me
something suitable?"
About an hour later, the party gathered under a half-canopy as star-studded sky was sparklingly beautiful.
Katherine turned to her skeptical audience and said " Certain person here asked me to play something. So here's some Strauss."
And gracefully Katherine sat down at the piano, and concentrated, glancing at the sheet music.
Shimmering, fateful, music echoed through the room as Todt und Verklänrung was coaxed to life, in all of its transformative, haunting glory.
There was complete silence.
Then Dean Priest clapped loudly, and slowly others joined in, looking uncertainly at each other. Katherine heard Effie's voice say, somewhat dismissively, "Grandfathers' music. If
you have to play the piano, why not play something a little more upbeat. For a moment, I imagined we'd be forced to listen to some Italian opera aria. Like the one about that
girl who dies after partying hard, with a flower, in her dress. Some tulip, or a rose."
Flo's voice was muffled. "Camelia, it was Camelia, and the character's name was Violet Valeriana."
Katherine looked away abruptly.
Then slow footsteps were heard, and Dean's voice was sharp as he remarked, with a lively spark in his green piercing eyes. "An excellent choice, that Strauss, maybe too apt,
but extremely effective. I got exactly what I ordered, you spared nothing. How refreshing. No ballads, moonshine or romance."
Little later as they sat in Dean Priest's elegant cabin.
Katherine laughed so hard, that she almost choked. Dean Priest just looked at her a little bored, from the middle of his leather-backed ornate travel trunks. Finally a clay disc
emerged, which Dean carefully placed in his gramophone.
The lines on Dean's face had softened as the music wrapped him in its gentle embrace, there was French red wine, it shimmered in decorative glasses. Verdi's operatic notes
glowed. Katherine hummed Amneris's aria at low volume. Strains of Aida poured out of the half-open window, and mingled with the moonlight.
A/N:
This chapter is dedicated to Alinyaalehtia.
The poem fragment that appears in this work is Piere aux Violettes by Renee Vivien,
(1877-1909) English translation is mine.
Tod und Verklärung (op. 24) is a symphonic tone-poem by Richard Strauss.
Verdi's Aida (1871) is an opera set in Egypt.