Saraband for Two Sisters

I asked Bastian how he had liked voyaging and he replied that it had been a great adventure but he was not sure that he wished to go again. He looked at me earnestly and said, “I want to stay here. There is so much to keep me.”

I wondered if he noticed those hideous pockmarks. My hair hid them on my brow where they were at their worst, and I kept my left cheek turned away from him.

He said, ‘To think that you were so ill, Bersaba, and I knew nothing of it! You might have died.”

“It is considered a miracle that I did not,” I answered.

My mother said that she supposed he would like to go soon to his family and he replied that he would be very happy to stay at the Priory for a few days if she would allow it.

She reproached him warmly for asking, for she hoped he regarded the Priory as his second home.

My father said there were business matters in progress and he would want to discuss them with my mother, Fennimore, and Bastian.

Bastian looked contented, and I knew that he was watching me.

The next morning he asked me to ride with him and we went out together. It was a beautiful morning, or perhaps it seemed especially so to me, because I was regaining an interest in life. I was beginning to feel well again perhaps, or it might have been because Bastian was here and clearly in love with me. I noticed afresh the beauties of the countryside to which for so long I had been oblivious. I was struck by the bright yellow flowers of the vetch, which we called lady’s fingers and which grew on the hillside, and the pale blue of the skullcaps close to the streams. There also grew the woody nightshade - yellow and purple - the flower which always seemed to me to be of special interest because it could look so pretty and yet could be deadly. We were always warned not to touch it, and we called it “bittersweet.” On this day it seemed especially significant. For that was my moodbittersweet. Bastian said, “I have thought about you so much, Bersaba. I remember so much of-“ “Of what should be forgotten,” I answered.

“It never will be,” he answered vehemently.

I shrugged my shoulders. “You did forget for a time.”

“No, I never did.”

I laughed and spurred up my horse. He was after me, beside me pleading, “Bersaba, I must talk to you.”

‘Well, pray talk.”

“I want to marry you.”

“Now that your first choice, Carlotta, is out of reach I make a good second, is that it?”

“You are first, Bersaba. You would always be first”

“My experiences would suggest otherwise.”

“I must try to explain.”

“Everything is clear. No explanations are needed.”

“When I think of everything we used to be to each other-“ “That makes it all the more clear,” I retorted sharply. “You knew that and yet you preferred Carlotta. Alas for you, she preferred someone else. Poor Bastian! Now you say, “Very well, since I can’t have Carlotta, I’ll take Bersaba.’ Alas again for you. Bersaba is not one to be picked up and dropped and then to beg for the return of past favors.”

“You have a sharp tongue, Bersaba.”

“It is one of the reasons why it would be unwise for you to marry me.” J “Your parents would be delighted.”

“Would they? Have you asked them?”

“I have spoken to your father.”

“We are cousins,” I said.

“What of it? That didn’t bother you at one time.”

“I’ve grown up. There is so much you don’t know. I have had a deadly illness, Bastian. I’m changed.” I had pulled up my horse and dramatically took off my hat and shook back my hair. “Look!” I showed him the scars on my forehead. “I love them,” he said. “They make me want you more than ever.”

“You have strange tastes, Bastian.”

“Give me a chance, Bersaba.”

“How? Shall we go to the woods and find a secluded spot and lie there together? Shall you come to my bedchamber this night when the household is asleep? It would be safe, you know. Angelet is no longer there.”

I saw the lights leap into his eyes and I felt a great surge of desire for him, but I held it in check, for my bitterness was as strong as my desire and my pride was as great as my need.

I turned away from him and put on my hat. “Then,” I said, “you could enjoy our adventure until someone more desirable came along, someone to whom you could offer marriage.”

I spurred on my horse and galloped away, and as we sped over the soft turf a sudden realization came to me. It was not that I really cared for Bastian, that I needed Bastian, but that I was a sensuous woman who would always need men; I had more than my share of desire than most women and I wondered then about Angelet and her husband and I knew of course that this was one of the assets-could one call it an asset or a liability?-of which I had taken the lion’s share.