Secrets & Mysteries of the Sephardim
Шрифт:
“Infante Fernando,” she said in a gentle voice. “You do not need to get out of bed. You still look weak. Let me help you to lie down.”
Before Fernando could answer, Isabel suddenly appeared at his bedside. With smooth, almost airy movements of her hands, she spread the fluffy pillows. She held the back of Fernando’s head with her left hand and his right hand with her right and said affectionately, “Lie down, infante Fernando. You'll be much more comfortable that way. There. Take your time. Slowly.”
When he laid down comfortably, she carefully and skillfully removed her hand from under his head and tried to free her right hand, but Fernando gently took it and pressed her palm to his chest. “Move the chair closer to the bed, Isabel,” he asked. “While you were close to me and touching me, my illness was noticeably receding. I think you have healing properties. Please leave your hand in my hand.”
Philippa nimbly pulled Isabel's chair closer to the bed and invited her to sit.
“Thank you, infanta Philippa,” Isabel said as she sat in the chair.
“I'll leave you to Fernando then, OK?” Philippa asked.
“Thank you, Philippa, for bringing Isabel here.”
When Philippa left, Fernando turned to the nurse, “You can leave, too.” When they were alone, Fernando put Isabel's hand to his lips, kissed her, and said, “Isabel, I must confess something to you. I am ashamed to tell you this, but I lied to you last time.”
“What do you mean, infante Fernando?” Isabel asked perplexedly.
“I lied to you that I hadn't written poetry in a long time.”
“Fernando, I should not condemn you for this, but rather I should admire you. After all, you hid it from me because of your modesty. And, Fernando, it seems that this kind of talk on this subject is not good for you. For your health, you must have only positive emotions now. I suggest this trivial misunderstanding be forgotten for the time being.”
“Oh no, Isabel, please. I won’t feel at ease until you forgive me for my cowardice.”
“What does that have to do with cowardice, infante Fernando? And why should I forgive you at all? It seems to me that I don’t understand you.”
“The fact I hid the truth from you was not modesty,” Fernando explained. “I was afraid that once you knew the truth, you would perceive it incorrectly.”
There was silence. Isabel took Fernando's hand in both of hers and said, “So those poems at my door were yours?”
Fernando nodded. “They are mine. And everything written in them is true. I fell in love with you when I saw you on stage, Isabel. It was instantly clear to me that you were my destiny. And my happiness, if you accept my love, or my unhappiness if you reject it. It depends only on you. So tell me, Isabel, what do you want me to be, happy or brokenhearted?”
“Oh, infante Fernando,” Isabel answered excitedly. “I do not know what to say. You are very kind and honest, and I could certainly fall in love with you. But I am afraid to. If I fall in love with you and we are told we cannot marry, I will be heartbroken.
“And between us, there are many barriers, she said. “You are the king’s son, so your fate is not in your hands. I’m sure you know better than I that marriages of princes and infantes are decided at the national level and mostly for political purposes. Love plays a secondary role. I feel we can’t have a future together for that reason.
I’m the daughter of the owner of a small island,” she continued. “And not the whole island, but only a part of it. I am of no value to the country from a political standpoint. Therefore, no one will approve of our union.
“So, infante Fernando, I beg you, try to control your feelings for me. Such love is in vain and will only lead to torment. Please do not torment yourself or me.”
“If I get permission for our union, Isabelle, will you reciprocate my love?” Fernando asked. I will ask Uncle Pedro to grant my request for our union. And if he approves it, we can get engaged at the same time as Afonso and Isabella.”
“Oh, dear infante Fernando,” Isabel replied. Tears are beginning to well up in her eyes. “You are so passionately in love. You have no sense of time at all. You are trying to do things too fast. I don't know if I can love you as much as you love me before Afonso and Isabella’s ceremony. You have the right to inquire if there is a future for us, but I think it is too early to talk about an engagement. However, Your Highness, may I ask that we continue this conversation after you fully recover? It is not good for you to be so emotional in your condition.
“I suggest we talk about something else,” Isabel said, changing the subject. “Let's talk about your progress. You have achieved high success in all the major types of ballroom dancing. And you are ready to show your mastery at the next ball. When you have recovered, we will begin to study other kinds of dancing and …”
Someone knocked on the door before Isabel could finish her sentence.
“Infante Fernando, allow me to open the door,” said Isabel, rising from her chair and gently releasing her hand from his. Isabel opened the door. Duke Pedro and Duchess Isabella were standing at the doorway, with the nurse behind them.
“Allow us to enter, senhorita,” said the Duke, looking at Isabel curiously. He was waiting for her to introduce herself.
“Isabel Zarco,” she said with a curtsy and cleared the way with a slight step aside.
“Pedro, I told you about her. She’s the dance teacher,” said the duchess.
“Of course, I remember,” answered Pedro. “I have heard good things about you, senhorita – about your talent, charm, and beauty. But I had no idea you were so perfect. I am pleased that my wife and nephew made the right choice.”