On the Night of the Seventh Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

husband. She loves the Prince as my father loved my mother.”
    â€œHow can you know—you who are so young and inexperienced.”
    â€œThere are things one knows instinctively.”
    â€œAbout devotion?”
    â€œLove,” I said. “The great love of Tristan and Iseult, of Abelard and Heloise, of Siegfried and Brynhild.”
    â€œLegends,” he said. “Real life may not be like that.”
    â€œAnd my parents,” I continued, ignoring him, “and the Queen and her Consort.”
    â€œWe should consider ourselves honored that your great Queen married one of our German Princes.”
    â€œI believe she felt herself honored.”
    â€œNot by his position, by the man.”
    â€œWell there are so many German Princes and dukes and little kingdoms.”
    â€œOne day there will be one mighty Empire. The Prussians are determined on that.” He went on: “But let us talk of more intimate matters.”
    â€œI have the wishbone,” I cried. “Now we can wish.”
    I was delighted that he had not heard of the custom so I explained it to him. “You each take an end by your little finger and pull. You wish and the one with the larger portion gets the wish.”
    â€œShall we try it?”
    We did. “Now wish,” I said. And I thought, I want this to go on and on. But that was a stupid wish. Of course it could not go on and on. The night had to pass. I had to go back to the convent. At least I could wish that we met again. So that was what I wished.
    He had the larger piece. “It’s mine,” he cried triumphantly. Then he reached across the table and took my hands; his eyes were very brilliant, almost tawny in the candlelight. “Do you know what I have wished?” he asked.
    â€œDon’t tell me,” I cried. “If you do it won’t come true.”
    He bent his head suddenly and kissed my hands—not lightly but fiercely and I thought he was never going to release them.
    â€œIt
must
come true,” he said.
    I said: “I can tell you what I wished because I lost, so mine doesn’t count.”
    â€œPlease tell me then,” he said.
    â€œI wished that we should meet again and we should sit at this table and talk and talk and I should wear a blue velvet robe and have my hair loose.”
    He said: “Lenchen . . . little Lenchen . . .” very softly.
    â€œLenchen?” I said. “Who is that?”
    â€œIt is my name for you. Helena is too cold . . . too remote. For me you are Lenchen . . . my little Lenchen.”
    â€œI like it,” I said. “I like it very much.”
    There were apples and nuts on the table. He peeled an apple for me and cracked some nuts. The candles flickered; he watched me from across the table.
    And suddenly he said: “You have grown up tonight, Lenchen.”
    â€œI feel grown up,” I said. “Not a schoolgirl any more.”
    â€œYou will never be a schoolgirl again after tonight.”
    â€œI shall have to go back to the
Damenstift
and be one.”
    â€œA
Damenstift
does not make a schoolgirl. It is an experience. You
are
sleepy.”
    â€œIt’s the wine,” I said.
    â€œIt is time you retired.”
    â€œI wonder if it is still misty.”
    â€œIf it were would you be reassured?”
    â€œWell then of course they would know I could not get back and it would be stupid to worry because there wouldn’t be anything I could do about it.”
    He went to the window and drew back the heavy velvet curtain. He peered out. “It is worse than ever,” he said.
    â€œCan you see it then?”
    â€œSince you came down in your blue robe I have seen nothing but you.”
    The excitement was almost unbearable, but I laughed rather foolishly and said: “Surely that’s an exaggeration. When you were pouring the wine and serving the chicken you saw that.”
    â€œPrecise pedantic