I must consider everything. When I left, Madame was preparing to arrange formal interviews, to give my presentation the needed order we have discussed. This signal might be a ruse to bring me out of my château before those preparations are completed. Has Madame detected an attempt to throw interviews into disruption? Has our code been discovered by hostile elements? — the message not from Madame Bernice at all?
We never devised a sign that would convey that it was truly we who were communicating! Surely there’s a way to verify — Surely —
Mansion!
The message is unquestionably from Madame Bernice. No one else calls a château a mansion.
Who is that figure rushing across my lawn? It’s Madame! No — I can’t be sure from here, and I must remain hidden until I know what is occurring.
An altercation at the entrance to my château!
Doors closing forcefully!
Footsteps!
Closer now!
A scuffle at my door? No. A branch just brushed my window. I shall rehearse — I cannot think — I cannot think — More footsteps! It’s only the servants, having heard me pacing in my chambers.
A familiar voice— Madame’s? Yes. But another’s, so familiar! Another woman . . . And a man’s voice, too, heard where, when —? Other voices! The servants —?
I am not to blame!
I must remain calm. I shall assure that like this: I shall remember the victorious moment that occurred just before Madame and I parted earlier and she said:
“Our case is made: God is guilty, Eve is not to blame.”
We were standing on the veranda. Beside her, Ermenegildo shared our triumph, his head thrust back exactly like Madame’s. I noticed that a new feather, with a slight twist, was growing on his comb.
A struggle outside my quarters, someone pushing against the door!
This thought assaults me: After Madame announced our victory earlier, I gasped out a question she must have been asking herself because she, too, had become somber:
“Madame, who will protect us from God, now that we’re about to begin interviews that find Him guilty? What will He attempt?”
What will He attempt? What will He attempt? In my quarters, that question persists with even greater urgency as the altercation outside my door grows, and —
XXXII
“LADY!”
“Madame!”
“Lady, let me in and lock the door behind me. Too late. They’re in. Give me the key!”
“Madame, who is this woman who pushed her way into my quarters — and this man with her — and those others making so much noise outside? Lock the door!”
“I have!”
“Madame, have interviews begun?”
“They may have to, very soon.”
“Without formal preparations —?”
“Our intentions were discovered before I could make arrangements. I tried to signal you.”
“You were asking me to leave —”
“To gain more time for our presentation.”
“No final rehearsal?”
“Only what we can squeeze in now.”
“The terrible Inquisitor, the spy — Outside?”
“Yes, among the interviewers. They followed these two.”
“Why are this woman and man studying me like that? . . . How dare you push past Madame Bernice and invade my quarters? Who are you?”
“You know who I am, I’m your sister in —”
“— my sister-in-law — Irena!”
“— your sister; in censed by all the scandal and —”
“Madame, Irena’s pretending to be my sister. Why? To assert some familial power over me?”
“We’ll soon find out why, Lady. Let her spill her venom.”
“Call me whatever you want, sister, deny we’re your family, you’ve done it before. Just stop this madness, if only for the sake of our father — and you’d better know I’m here on his behalf. He agreed I’m the best to set things right with you.”
“What a clever ploy, Lady. How cunning, to send a woman to collaborate against us.”
“You, sir, behind those terrifying glasses that magnify your eyes, who are you? The new tenant down the road?”
“I am the senior representative of the most prominent and proud dynasty that you . . . uh, miss . . . uh, Mrs . . . . uh, Lady . . . ma’am . . . have been defaming — especially, with unmitigated malice, the Father. I’m here to advise you that we’re aware of the slanders you’ve been uttering. We know that you intend to add unspeakable imputations.”
“Threats to keep me silent! You hear, Madame?”
“I do indeed, Lady.”
“In other words, sister, he’s here to order you to stop the gross distortions concocted by you and this soothsayer, this Madam —”
“Madame Bernice. Her name is pronounced in the grand style. She’s a unique mystic, in the tradition of Cassandra. She may even be —”
“Whoever she is, this . . . Cassandra . . . has been interfering with our reaching you, dear sister.”
“Sister-in-law! I refuse any other connection, Irena, and the one I assert is one I would reject, if I could, but you’re the sister of my beloved Count.”
“Half-sister, Lady, remember the tulips — shhh. That’s information they wanted to draw out of you in that ‘Account.’”
“What is that man writing down, Madame?”
“Every lie you utter, ma’am. For the record.”
“I shall speak only the truth, sir. I am the es —”
“Don’t start yet, Lady. We need to adjust to this sudden development.”
“Madame, I’ve seen this man before —”
“Keep this to yourself, Lady; he might be the Pope, assuming another identity.”
“You, behind your glasses. I do recognize you from another time. But you were wearing —”
“— a gray dress and a hat with a partridge feather, Lady? — as he did when he was spying on you from a window?”
“I have never worn a dress in my life. I have not even considered it.”
“Look sir! . . . Aha, I caught him, Lady. Did you see him look down as if to locate reflections of pink little buttocks?”
“I looked down in shame at your foul suggestions.”
“He may not be the Pope, Lady, but he certainly has knowledge of the unique predilections of someone close to him, a very close representative.”
“I shall ignore your reckless insults, ladies.”
“If this man is not the Pope, Madame, might he be —?”
“Yes, Lady, very possibly.”
“Stop trying to divert us from our purpose, Bernice . . . Sister, we’re here to squelch your lies about our great family, lies that have only one purpose — to shift the blame for everything from you to Father. You know who’s to blame for all the horrors in our family. You are, sister, for all of it —”
“You hear that, Madame? Blame!”
“Only too clearly, Lady.”
“Let’s get to the point. Can it be possible, sister, that what we’ve been hearing is true, that you, my dear sister, are actually claiming to be —”
“Creature, know this — the Lady is all she claims. I explained it to her.”
“I’m sure you did, Bernice . . . Sister, did you ever ask yourself why this woman is so involved with your life?”
“Because, like me, Madame’s committed to the truth. And to righting the injustice of centuries.”
“And because, creature, I understood her immediately.”
“You never questioned, sister, why she’s really preparing you for . . . interviews? . . . When did you start plotting all this, Bernice? — when you read those salacious stories about her? . . . Sister, listen! This woman is exploiting you. She’ll benefit from all the notoriety.”
“Oh, Lady, even beyond your vivid descriptions of this creature’s evil, she surpasses everything! — attempting to wedge between you and me, our special friendship —”
“No one cou
ld do that, Madame! . . . Irena, know this: Madame and I are allies in truth. You’ll never separate us. She’s been kind to me, cared for me, given me courage to continue, helped me through the time of terrible dreams —”
“— which were not dreams but memories, true memories. Keep that in mind, Lady.”
“Not only did we go through hell to find you, sister, but on top of it all, we have to face this soothsayer —”
“I am a unique mystic, and a countess.”
“— a crazy, fat old woman with a cloudy past, Bernice.”
“Irena, how dare you accuse Madame —”
“Lady, whatever else the creature intends, this much is clear — she wants to unsettle you. Ignore all they say.”
“No, she will not ignore us, Meh-dam. Please, sir, tell them what we intend —”
“I shall. If your rash accusations, continue, ma’am . . . uh, Lady — ah-choo! — ahchoo! Did you know . . . uh, Madam . . . uh, Madame . . . that that bird of yours shook his feathers at me when I passed him, and I’m allergic?”
“He knew you were allergic, sir — to truth!”
“I’ll talk to my sister while you recover from your allergy, sir . . . Do you have any idea how painful it is, to discover you here in this — this — terrifying place?”
“The Count’s château? My château? A terrifying place?”
“She’s giving herself airs, Lady, implying hers is so much grander. Insecure people do that. They’ve envied my mansion.”
“Mansion!”
“Is yours grander, creature? I doubt it.”
“You really pick them, don’t you, sister? A tawdry fortune-teller with an odd bird —”
“An odd bird? My Ermenegildo? Creature, utter one more word about Ermenegildo, and I shall —”
“Don’t come closer, Bernice.”
“I won’t because I don’t want to contaminate myself. But one more word of slander against my beautiful Ermenegildo, and —”
“Uh, ma’am . . . uh, Lady, aren’t you afraid of those derelicts roaming everywhere outside?”
“Restive wanderers, sir, displaced by the turmoil in the cities. Why should they harm me? They’re kind enough to accept me as an exile. Like them. Despite my background of wealth.”
“I’m glad to hear you admit at least that, sister — and now here you are in this . . . this . . . place. No wonder we couldn’t find you. You led us on a mad hunt through every ugly street and alley. We even had to hire someone to locate you —”
“I was aware of at least one spy in the corridor, another in —”
“Dear sister, you’ve ignored our communications. Even from Father, bless him, who prefers to let people write for him . . . I wish they’d stop that clamoring outside. Those so-called interviewers have been hounding our whole family constantly, dredging up all those rumors. We’ve denied everything, of course. Haven’t you had enough of their dirt, sister? — those hateful printed installments that mock our family?”
“Are you going to pretend it wasn’t you who dictated the vicious ‘Account,’ Irena? — you and the Pope, and Alix until you were through with him. Madame and I saw through your attempt to corrupt my loyalties, my love —”
“— and to frighten and threaten you, Lady — remember that — taunting you into correcting their smears — and so give information that the creature wanted for her own purposes.”
“Surely you don’t mean to link us to those vile stories, Bernice.”
“Oh, Lady, Lady, she’s just confirmed what I’ve often suspected. The writer they hired to record their lies — and did — interjected his own discoveries and conclusions here and there, beyond their intentions, information we can use; and that’s why they’re denying it all now.”
“I won’t sully myself by answering, Bernice.”
“Sully yourself, Irena? You — the woman who coaxed Alix to kill his twin brother, my beloved — your brother.”
“Half-brother, Lady. Remember the tulips. Shhh.”
“You, Irena? — the woman who then murdered your coconspirator and blamed your mother, then killed her, the noble Contessa, dragging her to the Cathedral so the Pope would lie for you? Oh, believe me, I shall tell of the dear Contessa’s devotion to the passionate gypsy and of your long revenge.”
“Sister, is nothing beyond you?”
“As the senior representative of the great family you well know of, including this noble and brilliant woman with me and especially the Patriarch of the great dynasty that you, ma’am, have so grossly maligned and which you belong to no matter how fervently you choose to deny it, I must inform you that unless you refrain from the course you’ve embarked upon, we are prepared to take the matter to the highest authorities, for the very strongest action. Now! I am in a position to propose conditions, Lady — ma’am: First, a period of medi —”
“—tation? I have been in meditation, in seclusion, except for afternoon teas with Madame. I have avoided contact with even my most loyal servants, who shall inherit my wealth, along with all the destitute wanderers.”
“Underline that in your notes, sir! . . . Dear sister, your so-called egalitarian leanings, especially your maddening talk about leaving your inheritance to derelicts — whatever you think that inheritance will be — doubly upsets Father. You know how proud he is of his prominent conservatism — which I share —”
“Collaborator! The creature’s a gross collaborator!”
“Are you crazy, too, Bernice?”
“Creature, how dare you call sanity madness and truth lies?”
“Sister, how can you expose us to this circus? How can you do this to Father, who loves us all?”
“Ha!”
“Isn’t your father already dead, creature? — according to that ‘Account’ you commissioned — the parts that didn’t run away from you — he died. Was that just another attempt to invite complacency against more villainy?”
“Father is not dead. My sister knows that better than anyone else. Even when people think he’s dead, there he is, crafty as ever —”
“Cruel as ever, Irena!”
“Oh, Lady, look, the creature’s about to try something most drastic — she wants us to believe she can cry.”
“I’m crying, yes, because I’m wondering what brought you to this . . . my sister . . . you with all your education. Your father — and he is your father however much you may deny him — gave you everything —”
“Not my life! Not my freedom!”
“He was strict because he loved you so much —”
“— that he tortured everyone? Is that next, Irena?”
“You’ve always wanted to destroy the family name, sister — and this woman’s been encouraging you for her own purposes.”
“How quickly the creature’s tears stopped!”
“From the very beginning, sister, you caused Father enormous grief with your disobedience, your rebellious willfulness, running away when you were only fifteen —”
“I was banished for wanting to live!”
“— by denying you were his daughter? Taking up with that lunatic rebel and his strange sister, who taunted our father — and only God knows how involved they were with each other — who claimed they could fly —”
“They did fly, beyond the boundaries of Heaven!”
“Lady, tell that only during interviews.”
“— and they introduced you to that man — that . . . dreamer, the man you claimed brought you to life out of the narcotic haze your sad existence had become, sister — that dreamer longing for some impossible paradise, to the point that you talked each other into suicide, to seal your love, you said — and he died and you survived, and it was all your fault!”
“We were driven to the edge — by despair and banishment and blame and threats that would have extended even to our children!”
“Not yet, Lady! We have to know exactly what the creature is up to.”
“— and then you were taken over by that drugged pimp, sister, t
hat sacrilegious preacher, that so-called reverend, the madman who sold your body in alleys.”
“He was mad — and brutal, Irena, mad with the pain of existence!”
“You, dear sister, a member of one of the great families — he sold you on the streets and then pushed you into that notorious House of Fantasy or Dreams, or whatever it is they’re claiming. You do know they’re calling you a whore —”
“They have called me that for centuries.”
“— and when that wealthy man who claimed to be an aristocrat took you out of the filth that he himself knew so well, then brought you into his own corrupted life —”
“You’d sully even him, Irena? Your own brother, my beloved Count?”
“— and when he even agreed to marry you, he was murdered by your pimp, all because of you —”
“Murdered by Alix, coerced by you, Irena!
“Are you hallucinating again, sister — taking drugs?”
“Hallucinating? No! No!”
“Calm yourself, Lady. She’s trying to change the truths we’ve discovered back into the lies they uphold, convince you you’re not who you know you are.”
“So you’re prepared, dear sister? Ready to tell the truth?”
“What is truth? What is a lie?”
“Gather all your strength, Lady. It’s coming. I see the malice on her face. Remember she’s an expert at distortion.”
“You’re ready — are you, sister? — to speak it all publicly, about the drugs, whoring, suicide, murder, and about —”
“It’s coming, Lady, it’s coming.”
“ — and about the slaughter of your own children? — the twins you would have had.”
“Madame!”
“Are you ready to tell it all, sister, that you drowned them in your own blood and then claimed you did it because your pimp denied they were his and was arranging to sell them as soon as they were born?”
“Madame!”
“You’re sure, sister, that you can face those jackals outside, answer all the questions you know they’ll ask? Can you answer? Can you? Can you, sister! Can you!”
“Madame!”
“Listen to me, dear Lady. Can you? Tell me. Will you be able to face all the questions they’ll ask about all your lives, excluding none? Not one? Not a single one? Lady? Lady . . .? Lady —”