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.This route I found delightful in the extreme, for the alpine valleys in the heat of summer present no hardship beyond the cicadas, which crowd the forest treetops in such numbers that their screeching threatens to deafen the hapless traveler.Hardened by the cacophony of war, however, I greeted the buzzing uproar with a cheery smile and, doffing my hat toward their arboreal realm, wished the creatures success in their amorous pursuits.Thus it was that I entered the village of Bacio lost in my own thoughts and ambitions, and thus would I have departed had I not paused to rinse the dust from my brow in a tributary that flowed aside my route.The residents of Bacio, industrious as ants, had dammed the stream with rocks and earth, creating a pond that fed a mill, the wheel of which turned with inexorable solemnity.I was descending the bank to dip my cravat, my weathered boots almost touching the dark water, when all other notions were chased from my brain by a most extraordinary sight.Crouched on the opposite shore on the edge of the mill race were two children perhaps of twelve years, a redheaded girl and a boy with hair as sleek as an otter's, each sporting an expression of profound anticipatory mischief.The boy, nut brown with only a scrap of cloth about his middle, kept his eyes locked on the girl's face, his body taut with expectation.The girl in turn focused on the window of the great stone mill abutting the pond.Though I could perceive no activity within the structure, she shook her head slightly, and the boy settled back on his heels.Within a few heartbeats—and much to my surprise at her keen foresight—a scowling young man appeared, his hair dusted with flour.He glared out the window at the children, who feigned ignorance of his presence.The man lingered, doubtless hoping to witness their disobedience; the girl, I noticed, kept watch from the corner of her eye, and after a bit made a slight hand gesture to her companion.What she observed I could not tell, but the sullen man soon after disappeared from sight.Without warning, the boy leapt from his crouched position and landed, balanced as a cat, on the water wheel.As the massive wheel rose, dripping water like a leviathan, the boy effortlessly adjusted his footing on the mossy boards, his arms spread wide; reaching its apex, he launched himself into the air, arcing arrow-straight over the pond.He flipped twice and plunged into the dark water, scarcely raising a ripple.Breathless as a maiden awaiting her lover did I watch for that black hair to reappear.Never in my life had I witnessed such capability, such physical acumen, in an individual so obviously untrained.That a village imp could conduct himself with so much strength and power left me dumbstruck.Once again, destiny had led me to my El Dorado.***The boy—christened Tomas Müller, though in this small hamlet known by the curious sobriquet of Tips—had sprung from a family of loutish millers much as a glorious rose might bloom, most remarkably, in a thicket of thorns.Indeed, the contrast between his talents and his two sulking older brothers reminded me so much of myself at that age that I redoubled my commitment to rescue the boy from this dismal hinterland and present him to the world and the acclaim that were so clearly his due.Unfortunately, the brothers considered Tomas not so much sibling as slave.The eldest son, who had recently inherited the mill, demanded in no uncertain terms that Tomas remain in their service indefinitely.Emulating in every way the ass that was the second brother's prize possession, the two young men stubbornly declared that he could not depart their workplace for even a day.Yet again, my singular powers of persuasion were put to the test; polishing my silver tongue, and recognizing all too well that descriptions of glory would only set their heels more firmly in opposition, I appealed to the young men's patriotism—and to their purses.Would not the career of a.soldier—guardian of empire, defender of justice, well compensated in victory—serve the family fortunes? Observing the attention paid my talk of compensation, I pressed the point by offering remuneration for their brother's labor.Haggling commenced.For a few gold coins it was determined I would take the boy for my apprentice—as I at that point bore no knighthood, he sadly could not serve as page—for a period of eight years.His future beyond that day would lie in his own two hands.Having no regard whatsoever for the boy's talent, the brothers left the table convinced he would then return to their service, a misconception I made no effort to rectify, as it would have only magnified the price of Tomas's indenture.Our conference concluded, I stepped outside to find the boy awaiting me, his few possessions in a sack that had quite recently held flour.How he learned of our negotiations I cannot say, as the room was quite preserved from eavesdroppers, but learn he plainly had, for he was now outfitted in stout boots and traveling clothes, a worn cap on his damp locks.His companion, her sweet face marked by tears, clutched his hand, and well could I understand her pain: the boy was already as handsome a specimen of humanity as ever I have observed.Attracting benefactresses, I could see, would not be a problem; the challenge would lie in the delicate deflection of female admirers.Tomas proffered the girl his goodbyes with a maturity and tenderness that moved my heart; with his every gesture I rejoiced further on the brilliance of my acquisition.Verifying that he would be able to correspond regularly with "Trudy"—indeed, demanding my word and handshake on this matter—he gave her a final embrace and set his pace to mine."I am ready," he announced with a most charming gravity, "to begin my adventures."PART I>SIX YEARS LATER>The Play (As It Were) CommencesQueen of All the HeavensA PLAY IN THREE ACTSPENNED BY ANONYMOUSAct I, Scene iii.Terrace, Chateau de Montagne.An afternoon fete with musicians.Enter Duke Roger of Farina and Queen Temperance of Montagne.ROGER: This terrace is lovely, is it not? Your Majesty?TEMPERANCE: Alas, my poor mother! She adored this terrace.My sister and I would play here and she, laughing, would applaud.But that was before.O woe!ROGER: Take my handkerchief.Please, consider it a token of my affection.[Aside] I also mourn for my brother, but life must move past death.TEMPERANCE: Were she alive, I would yet be cultivating herbaceous shrubberies.Now I am obliged to rule, though the throne holds no magic for me.ROGER [aside]: How can I woo this Temperance? "Queen Melancholia" is a name more suitable.TEMPERANCE: And, they say, I must take a husband.ROGER: Surely some man would tolerate—er, desire you.I myself would delight.[Aside] No! I cannot speak the words! Rather bachelordom and my mother's wrath than this!TEMPERANCE: Behold—a weed amongst the rhododendrons.I must attend to it.Exit Temperance.ROGER: What a miserable female! What a miserable day!Enter Princess Wisdom of Montagne.WISDOM: A miserable day indeed.Your Grace, do not look so abashed! I do not envy you the challenge of courting my sister; 'twould foil Cupid himself.ROGER: Your High ness.The day grows brighter with your approach, and the very sun slows its descent to linger in your presence.[Aside] If Temperance is melancholia, then Wisdom represents happiness supreme.WISDOM: Your flirtation is more craft than art—though I am flattered nonetheless.In return I shall tender a confidence: I used to dance upon this balustrade when I was young [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]