The Ragged Edge of Night(86)

It’s the last thing Anton wants, to be among sunshine and blooming flowers when he knows he has failed. He has drawn the eye of the enemy to his sanctuary, and now it all must end. He thinks, If I hear the laughter of my children now, my heart will break; my mind will turn itself inside out; I will become a ghost where I stand. But Elisabeth pulls him to his feet and leads him toward the door. He can’t let go of her hand, and so Anton follows.

They walk in silence down the lane, past the orchard full of breezes and whispers. There is a fresh smell in the sky, a crisp blue scent of rain to come. From the pasture behind the cottage, he can hear the milk cow lowing. In the distance, as if in lazy reply, the bells of St. Kolumban ring the hour.

Elisabeth stops. She turns toward the sound, listening to the bells chime with her face to the easy wind. The notes roll fat across the land, golden and round. Anton watches her, that resolute face softening with pleasure, softening so fractionally he could miss the change if he weren’t her husband, if he didn’t love her beyond reason or life. As the bells die away, leaving only their echo behind, Anton thinks he should speak—apologize, perhaps, or make some excuse as to why he can’t stop, why he must fight on. But Elisabeth speaks before he can.

“I met Paul when I was very young. I had just moved out of my parents’ home; I was only seventeen. I took a job as a maid, at one of those grand old castles—Lichtenstein.” She smiles and lowers her face for a moment, sheepish at the memory. “I thought it would be romantic to work in a castle, silly girl that I was. But the work was very hard; I cleaned day and night for the owners, forever on my feet, and all of us—the maids, I mean—were expected to be on our best behavior. Even when we weren’t at the castle, when we came and went on the trains, we were required to look flawless and modest, and behave with perfect obedience and charm. The strain was enough to drive a girl mad.

“Paul was a botanist, fresh out of university. He’d been hired that summer to tend the gardens at Lichtenstein. It was his first job, too. He had seen me across the grounds and—” She laughs, suddenly shy, and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “I suppose he liked me when he first saw me, though I still can’t think why. There were prettier girls on the payroll. I knew I was nothing special.

“One day, I went into a servants’ passage to clean it—you know, one of those dark, narrow ways between the walls. They always made me think of a mouse’s burrow; I shivered every time I had to enter one. But there was Paul when I opened the door. He’d been coming from the other direction, with his gardening tools in a bucket and dirt all over the knees of his trousers. He dropped his bucket when he saw me standing there in my prim little uniform, with my dusting rag in my hand.” She laughs softly. “I’ll never forget the sound his bucket made. I thought we would both be in trouble for it. But no one came to see about the noise. We were entirely alone.

“Paul said some sweet words to me—I can’t remember now just what he said—and my heart was captured. I was sure I’d never seen a man so fine in all my life. From that moment on, I did everything in my power just to catch a glimpse of him. I must have washed every window in that castle ten times a day, merely for the excuse to look down and find him in the garden below, digging in the soil.

“It didn’t take us long to realize we could meet in the servants’ passage. We had absolute privacy there, as long as we were careful to whisper. And we did meet there, almost as often as we liked. But we never did anything sinful. It was all holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes—just the sort of things a foolish girl of seventeen dreams of doing in a romantic old castle.

“It looked terrible, of course, to meet in secrecy. I can see that now, as a grown woman—but neither Paul nor I understood it then. We were in love; that was the only thing that concerned us. But when our employer realized what we were doing, he sent me back to my parents with a scorching letter in my pocket. I was meant to give the letter to my father, so he could read all about my low morals and punish me for it. I didn’t know what to do. Of course, I planned to burn that letter before my parents could see it, but even without the note, I would be obliged to explain why I’d been sent away from my work, and I didn’t know whether my parents would really believe I’d done nothing wrong.

“I was on the train, heading home with tears in my eyes—absolutely certain I would never see Paul again—when I realized he had boarded the very same train. He came down the aisle of my car, looking for me, calling my name. I remember he even lifted one man’s hat, as if he thought I might have hidden beneath it. I jumped to my feet; I’m afraid I jostled everyone around me terribly, but I didn’t notice at the time. When Paul saw me, he said nothing more, but he pushed his way to my side, and I kissed him, right there in front of everyone. I didn’t care one bit who saw or what they thought of us. I was done caring what other people thought. All that mattered was that Paul and I were together.

“Paul took the letter and tore it up, right there in the aisle of the train car. He threw it out the window. I’ll never forget the sight of those bits of paper fluttering away in the wind as the train left the station. He said, ‘There’s no shame in anything we’ve done. We can’t let that sour old Herr push us around.’

“I told him, ‘I can’t go back to my parents. Even without the letter, they’ll know I was dismissed, and they’ll soon guess why. My reputation is ruined.’ And Paul said, ‘Then don’t go home. Marry me instead.’”