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housedeaubemarle · 23 days

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FFXIV Write 2024 #2: Horizon

featuring mentions of the Losstarots by @escherstrange-ffxiv

In post-Calamity Ishgard, the changing seasons don’t truly mean much for obvious permafrost reasons. Yet the city’s residents have gradually found ways over the turns to distinguish between them. The weather will never not be cold, but there are minute changes only Ishgardians could and would ever recognise: the slight drop in temperature which allows for exactly one (and only one - this is still Coerthas) less layer of clothing, a few days of witnessing actual snowdrops bud and bloom, less foggy afternoons so the frost is made brighter by more reflected sunlight.

It is why, within one of the drawing rooms of Aubemarle manor, the orange-yellow flames in the hearth have been allowed to burn down to almost embers. The Dowager Viscountess’ insistence on actual wood rather than fire crystals means there’s also the last faint remnants of crackling logs. Gentle clinks of porcelain - cup against saucer, teaspoon against rim - resound amidst the room’s occupants.

The Dowager’s lady’s maid, Nisette, ever present and ever discreet, sits in one corner next to a window. The sunbeams of the mildly sunnier spring day shine through onto her darker grey-purple skin. Under such natural light, she can better see the sewing she always has with her. Rips and tears in fabric disappear beneath her efficient hands, while her ears keep sharp for any slight command from her employer.

That lady, in a gown of burgundy, sits further away on a sofa, reading a singular sheet of paper as she sips milky tea from her cup. She is watched carefully by a third figure – her taller, darker haired daughter, the viscount.

“Dearest, it is quite unladylike to stare so hard,” says the older lady, her eyes never leaving the paper in her hand.

“I’m not staring, Mamma. I’m waiting.”

“Then it’s quite unladylike to wait so hard,” she replies smoothly, still focused on her reading material.

The viscount sighs but does indeed turn her eyes to her own cup of tea; she sips, letting the fragrance fill her senses as the sweetness coats her tongue pleasantly. More quiet clinks and rustles of fabric fill the room, along with the almost hypnotic crackling. It doesn’t soothe Oudine as much as she would like.

Just as she finishes her cup, and opens her mouth to ask if her mother was done staring into the soul of the poor sheet she holds, the Dowager lowers it and sighs. She looks over at her daughter, and stretches the paper out to her.

Oudine plucks it gently out of her fingers. “Well, Mamma?”

“I must own that it’s refreshingly direct. Usually one tosses complimentary words and phrases at one's quarry till an invitation is condescendingly thrown back,” says the Dowager, managing to even make the way she sips her tea wry. “This one simply asks to introduce themselves.”

The viscount is far too accustomed to these kinds of remarks to let it bother her. She glances down at the page again. The signature at the bottom still intrigues her; ever since the letter had first arrived, and her mother had given a fairly brief summary of the sender's circumstances, she'd wondered at it.

“...how long have they been away?”

There is a very brief pause - perceptible only by Oudine who is her own daughter - before she says, coolly, “Five turns.”

The viscount’s whole posture goes still for a moment. It would seem then that five turns ago, everyone’s fates had been traded for far less peaceful alternatives, not just the Aubemarles.

“What do you think, Mamma?”

The Dowager raises an eyebrow. “You are head of the house, Viscount. Tis your decision whether to receive them or no.”

She smiles faintly. “I would seek your counsel.”

“Ah, then ‘tis simple: Write them that we will happily be at home on a date convenient for both parties.”

Oudine hesitates, taken by surprise. “I was… quite sure that you would say no.”

The Dowager smiles in amusement. “Whyever would I? 'Tis a miracle of Halone, do you not agree? Far be it from me to be ungrateful for the resurrection of distant relatives from the presumed dead. And they are connected to the Repouxs no less!”

Her daughter eyes her for a moment then lets out a breath. “You think they're cheats, don't you? You want to challenge and humiliate them directly. Subject them to interrogation the likes of which would be approved by the Tribunal.”

“My darling girl, how could you accuse our own family members of being cheats and impostors? Who would dare impersonate such a noble house? And certainly I would never have such inhospitable intentions.” The Dowager sniffs loudly. “Besides, interrogation is too gauche for this house.” (These absolute bouncers make even Nisette smile to herself though she knows far better than to raise her head from her stitchwork.)

Oudine does her best to level an admonishing look at the Dowager. “You mustn't. Papa said anyone admitted into our home is an honoured guest.”

“Ah, dear Papa,” she replies with a genuinely fond smile. Yet the fondness is given a slightly sharp edge by something close to mischief in her dark brown eyes. Though of course it isn't mischief directly - the Dowager is too old and too dignified for such larks. “It is for his sake that I open our doors to those poor boys. Rest assured if they are truly our long lost relatives then no humiliation of any kind will occur.”

Oudine had been far more prepared to argue on behalf of these would-be relatives. Her mother acquiescing so quickly feels like the older woman has cheated, but she can't see how exactly.

So she says, “I can see you are determined. But I will still try to seek confirmation with someone from the Holy See's offices before I reply.” She doesn't mention that such information may not be allowed to be publicly released, or how long it might take to obtain such knowledge through the current bureaucracy. It's more than likely that they'll have to rely on hearsay and rumour to see them through the visitation.

The Dowager keeps smiling, as if she hears what Oudine isn't saying. “Of course, my dear. You will do what is right and proper.”

Oudine looks doubtfully at her, but stands anyway. “I will let you know what I find.” She leaves the drawing room, determined to begin her inquiries.

The Dowager shakes her head as her daughter leaves, still savouring her tea. “Do you remember the Losstarots, Nisette?”

Nisette lifts her eyes up and nods. “Yes ma'am, though I had never chanced to see them myself.”

The Dowager hums. “What with one thing and another, we never managed to host them here while La Incomparable was alive. She was a most extraordinary beauty, you know. Tis a pity she had no daughters to inherit her looks - though I suppose there's no reason her sons may not be beauties either. If I recall rightly, her second son might have had some semblance of a chance."

Nisette says nothing, waiting for the Dowager to continue.

"To be sure, death would have altered that in no uncertain terms. If these impostors can find someone of that make, it will be most impressive.” She smirks, sharp eyes gleaming. “I almost look forward to what dawns on our horizon. Wouldn't it be quaint if they were genuine?”

“Indeed, ma'am.”

end.

#FFxivWrite #FFxivWrite2024 #ffxiv oc #Philomene de Aubemarle #Oudine de Aubmearle #Blynisette 'Nisette' Dechamberre #spoilers: they WERE the real deal!#huzzah!#the Losstarot brothers my beloveds

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p0tat0-th3-th3r1an · 3 months

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I can’t draw, so I wrote a lil story about being a wolf to maybe ease my species dysphoria a little. A couple things: I did very minimal research on wolves and how packs work, so very sorry about all the things wrong. Secondly, sorry about the not creative naming for me, I couldn’t think of anything else. And thirdly, I TYPED THIS ON MY PHONE BY HAND. USING THE LITTLE KEYBOARD. My hand fucking hurts. That’s all, please please please interact this took me a while and, like I said on my phone.

Enjoy!

I wake up, yawning, and look around. As usual,

I’m in my cave. It’s a small place, but I love it. I grew up here, I ate my first kill here, and after every hunt, I come back here, with mamma smiling and welcoming me, and the little ones yipping excitedly. I am brought back to the present by White Dots, one of my younger brothers, waking up. I quickly hop off of the pile so he can get up. He sleepily opens his eyes and lets out a tired growl. “Morning, Whitey!” I say happily. “Today is a big day, little brother. Today is your first hunt!” As soon as I remind him, he leaps up, his face breaking into a grin. “Yes! Yes, Ash Paw, you’re right! Ooooh, I can’t wait to bring back my first kill!” He yips, bouncing around excitedly. His loud yipping is starting to wake up the rest of the pack. “Hmm? What’s that about killing? There will be no fight in this cave.” Says Elder. He is very old, and gets confused sometimes. Luckily, Momma always helps him in these situations. “It’s ok Papa, don’t you worry. I run these pups with an iron fist!” “Hey! I’m not a pup! I’ll be ready to become a papa in just 6 sleeps!” I say, because it’s true! In 6 sleeps I will be 365 as sleeps old! This means I will have to go out and find a female to mate with. “Yes yes, now get your brothers and sisters up! We need to teach White Dots to hunt today!” Says momma. While I do as she said (“Blue Tip, Speckles, Papa, get up! Everyone up!”), White Dots has doubled his excited yipping. “I’m going to hunt! Papa is going to teach me to hunt! Yip yip yip!!” The pack is now all up. There is 12 of us all together; Mamma, Pappa, the 2 Elders, White Dotes, Blue Tip, Speckles, the 4 newborn pups, and me, Ash Paw! The littles all come from Mammas third litter. I, Speckles, and Blue tip are from Mammas first, and White Dots is from her second. The other four, who had not been named yet, were all killed by an attack on the cave. It was a pack that bordered our territory. The pack wanted to take ours, so they attacked the cave while we were hunting and Mamma and the newborn pups were in it. Mamma tried to protect them, but only White dots survived.

“Come on everyone, let’s get hunting!” Barks Papa. White Dots has been taught by Papa to hunt and his role in it. He has to wait with me and my brothers for my sisters to drive the prey to us, and then we chase it till it or we faultier. If we do, we go back to the nest, hungry. If the prey does, we attack. This time, we will get White Dots to attack.

Me, my sisters, my brothers, Papa, and the elders leave the cave with Mamma and the pups waving us goodbye. We start our long track across the snow to find prey. The whole way, White Dots is trotting along in front of us, and stopping and waiting for us. Papa has warned him to be quiet, but that doesn’t stop my silly little brother from running too fast, not saving his energy. We all warn him of this, but we know it won’t help. Today, we don’t have to travel far to find prey. We have only traveled a couple hundred steps, when White Dots lets out a yip. We all stop, and start treading quietly, low to the ground. Papa taught Whitey well for this, he has it down very well. The prey is a herd of caribou, who are digging through the snow, trying to find food. Little do they know, they are our food. The caribou haven’t noticed us yet, luckily. We pick a spot to attack, and me, White Dots, Papa, and Elder run as quietly but as quickly as we can to our agreed spot. So far, my little brother is doing well. He is not falling behind, or being louder than all of us. Once we get there, my sisters have already got the herd moving. Most of the prey are running away, but two are panicking, and the sisters take advantage of that, driving them toward us. One runs off, so now we are set up perfectly. And here it comes… and now we’re running in front of it, confusing the prey. And now it has stopped and there is a perfect opportunity! And here comes White Dots, going in for the throat… HE GOT IT! He mange’s to bite on the animals throat, making it cry out. This is perfect timing, as all the ones who are strong enough jump on the caribou, knocking it down! We then kill it, and tear it up. “Good job my son. You are a true wolf now. No more a pup.” Says Papa. This is a tradition, and part of it is that once he says that, we all howl, and our howl is heard by Mamma, so she howls back. She can hear in our howl if we’re in trouble, so she can tell this is a tradition.

We then “ get into the nitty gritty” which I will not tell you about. Basically, we end up carrying most of the extra meat back to the cave by sundown. Once we return, Mamma welcomes us-well, mostly just White Dots. “White dots! You are a true wolf! Good job son. I’m proud of you!” The pups just howl and give a couple little yips. They then devour the caribou meat we brought back, and do does Mamma. After they have eaten, we all close our eyes and put our paws on the spot that Mamma and pups at the meat on. “We thank you caribou, for giving us your meat to survive.” Says Papa solemnly. We all nod, “Thank you, caribou.” Says White dots. Then, we get up from the spot, I stretch and Papa lays down. We all get on top of the pile in our respective order, and snuggle in. Laying in this pile with my beloved pack, my family, I feel completely content with this position in life, and in the pile. Soon, I sleep.

#short story #therian writing #arctic wolf therian #therian #therianthropy

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eldritchdiplomacy · 10 months

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Thoran O'Donnelly

(playlist)

Mag'har | Clan McAllister

Half-Orc, Worgen, Brawler, Headlander, Just a kid from the Canals

Father | Mother

Age: 19 Height: 6'5"

A tall, broad, olive-skinned lad, Thoran might strike one as older than his 19 years, until they truly took in his cheery, if scarred up face. Though roped in muscle and scattered with scars, Thoran has a very kind, open, youthful appearance overall. His auburn-brown hair is almost always tied back, revealing the scar that passes through his left eye ((pretend it's the same in both forms, c'mon game)). He dresses plainly when not in his Harvest Witch's vestments, his clothes simple but lovingly mended and clean, tidy. He is prone to smiling wide, even with how unsettled it might make people at the sight of his small lower tusks.

In worgen-form, his fur is ((in model!)) a muddly black green, his scars ever more apparent slicing through rough fur. His ears are bid ol' ragged satellites, his same eye grey, yet somehow his grin is just as kindly.

Unless throats need tearing out, of course.

Thoran is a very pleasant, kind young man, despite the roughings up he's clearly been through in his short few years. He is quick with a smile, a joke, a drink on him if you're short….but don't be fooled. Don't start nothing, won't be nothing, those scars were earned in the brawlers club, starting when he wasn't strictly old enough to be there.

Some points!

He grew up in the dwarven and mage districts since the age of 2 - his father the mage schoolteacher Mykhael O'Donnelly. While sure, some might be wary of a half-orc, anyone who's lived there and been active in the local community would know him on sight as a big nice boy, who breaks up far more fights than he starts….outside the ring, of course.

Along with his three Gilnean Headlander cousins, they probably influenced some truly insane accents in their peers growing up.

His mother is Gaezull, an Outland Mag'har orc living in Northrend since BC. Though not together, his parents cared/care greatly for each other, and he WILL correct anyone who implies his conception was anything but loving and consensual.

Darnassus was.....an education >.>

"In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of every glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains..."

"But I know being reckless & young is not where the damage gets done."

Gaezull:

You'll Be In My Heart Everyone Is Someone's 10,000 Miles A Stor Mo Chroi Mykhael:

Two Of Us Sweet Afton Mammas, Don't Let Your Babies... Cloudbusting Two Worlds Reprise Growing Up/The Cousins:

Damage Gets Done Time to Run So Nice So Smart Darnassus:

Show Your Fangs Fast Car Safe & Sound De Selby (Part 1)

Present/Time To Adventure Bb Boi:

Studying Stones Learn Me Right Take The Heartland The Boxer

#wyrmrest accord #Moonguard #rp characters #world of warcraft #thoran o'donnelly #mykhael o'donnelly #gaezull #Rose McAllister #Nate & Kern McAllister #his body's too young to look like his is too hard of a Myk-line man

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qweasdfop · 12 hours

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25/09/2024

Fy fan att det ska regna hela tiden. Började sent i dag och fick i uppdrag av min mamma att gå ut men våran hund, för att hon inte hade tid på morgonen. Detta är såklart inte ett problem, men fan det regnade så mycket att Bonnie vände hemåt minst 100 gånger för det regnade så mycket.

Det regnade så mycket att mina kläder blev blöta, och då hade jag regnjacka på mig.

Efter det så hände inte mycket. Jag hade franska på morgonen och vi har bestämda platser för att vi ska lära känna klassen och inte bara hålla oss till våran linje. Idag sattes man då med sin före detta bästa vän. Vilket inte är så hemskt, men det blir stelt och det känns inte riktigt som att man kan säga något.

Fortsatte med en text vi skriver på svenskan, en argumenterande text. Vilket jag älskar, för det finns så mycket man kan skriva om varför dödsstraff inte ska finnas.

Sedan fick jag reda på att en av mina klasskamrater och kompisar vill byta skola, så det var lite tråkigt, men jag kan förstå varför hon vill byta. Det är inte att hon inte trivs, utan mest för hon tycker att hon skulle trivas bättre på den andra skolan. Hon står på plats 3 eller 2 i väntlistan, så det händer nog.

Började läsa "They both die at the end", den verkar rätt bra, är bara på sida 49, så har inte hunnit med så mycket. Men jag måste säga att jag föredrar Rufus Perspektiv så mycket mer. När Mateo's perspektiv låter som ett "pity-party", låter Rufus mycket mer intressant, just för att han levt. Däremot kan jag förstå Mateo mycket, då "death-cast" är någonting skrämmande om det väcker en hyper-medvetenhet om döden, vilket har tvingat honom in till hans sovrum sedan det skapades. Däremot tror jag att han kommer utvecklas mycket under hans sista 24 timmar och jag kommer nog tycka om att läsa hans perspektiv mer längre ner i boken då jag tror att hans perspektiv kommer beskrivas som det mer ödmjuka.

Juste! På fredag så fyller min kompis år och jag hade lovat restaurang, men det tackade hon nej till. Vi (jag) ska laga några vackra mackor med kyckling, bacon, honungsmajonnäs, tomat, gurka, Philadelphia och lite annat smått och gått, så ska vi sätta på en fin film eller serie, plugga lite och så ska hon få en jävla massa choklad.

En till skol-relaterad sak är att vi måste ha en extra lärare i våra klassrum nu för att lärarna tycker att vi är högljudda? Vilket jag tycker är lite konstigt då de enda gångerna vi riktigt pratar är på arbetstid och 90% av prat-tiden är frågor om arbetet, för många (de flesta) i klassen lär sig bättre med diskussioner, dessa elever får ju då flytta till grupprum, men för det är så många finns det inte tillräckligt för alla och då sitter det såklart kvar folk i klassrummet. Då är det antagligen någon som stört sig på detta (en lärare), och nu får vi inte ha lektioner utan mer än en lärare. Jag vill också säga att jag kan förstå att folk inte vill jobba i höga ljudnivåer, det vill inte jag heller, men försök att förstå att diskussionerna som är under lektionstid är låg och så minimal att jag blev chockad när våran rektor kom och hade en presentation om det. Personligen, så har jag aldrig gått i en klass som är så lugn som denna och då har många av klasserna jag gått i vart hyfsat lugna (så lugn som 14-åringar kan vara iaf)

var på gymmet igår, för första gången någonsin, mest för att testa och jag tycker att det kan vara någonting för mig. Ska nog gå på några fler test-omgångar för att verkligen blir säker. Har även kollat upp Tennis, squash och badminton klubbar för att se ifall det är något jag kan börja. Jag har alltid gått i någon sport när jag inte varit deprimerad och nu när jag äntligen är ute vill jag ha en ny start på allt.

Min mamma pluggar till sjuksköterska och förklarade nyss till mig att folk som är deprimerad kan "sluta växa" både psykiskt och fysiskt, vilket chockade mig för jag trodde jag slutade växa var för att jag åt antingen för mycket eller för lite i 3-4 år och att jag inte rörde mig, och att jag bara börjat växt igen nu för att jag börjat leva "normalt". Men nej, när man är deprimerad så slutar man producera växt-hormoner och anledningen till varför man "slutar" växa psykiskt är för att man inte socialiserar sig lika mycket och inte upplever framgång där.

Puss Puss

#dagbok #diary #digital diary

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anniekimsvedin · 5 months

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5/5-24

I helgen hade vi besök av mamma, hennes sambo och mina tre syskon, riktigt mysigt! Vi käkade god mat, dom drack gott, jag drack alkoholfritt, fick en servis i födelsedagspresent, barnen fick presenter 💛 Var himla trevligt att ha folk här!

Nu har dom åkt hem och vi ligger alla 4 i soffan 😂 Ofelia sitt med paddan, Sebbe ser på tv, Lara sover och jag ligger och halv sover 😴

Extra glad över att vi fick sånt fint väder ☀️ Man känner verkligen hur livet känns lättare nu när sommaren står runt hörnet!

På tisdag åker jag och Lara till hörcentralen, hon ska göra sitt hörseltest som blev uppskjutet. Måste kolla om farmor kan hämta Ofelia från förskolan.

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lindajenni · 7 months

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feb 17

faith becomes sight "therefore I say to you, whatever things you ask when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them." mark 11:24 now let me tell you a little story. ------- there was a little about ten years of age. his grandmother had promised him a stamp album for christmas. christmas came, but no stamp album, and no word from grandmother. the matter, however, was not mentioned; but when his playmates came to see his christmas presents, his mom was astonished that after he had named over this and that as gifts received, to hear him add, "and a stamp album from grandmother." she had heard it several times, and called him to her, and said, “but, georgie, you did not get an album from your grandmother. why do you say so?” there was a wondering look on his face, as if he thought it strange that she should ask such a question, and he replied, “well, mamma, grandma said, so it is the same as.” she could not say a word to check his faith. a month went by, and nothing was heard from the album. finally, one day, she said, to test his faith, and really wondering in her heart why the album had not been sent, “well, georgie, i think grandma has forgotten her promise.” “oh, no, mamma,” he quickly and firmly said, “she hasn’t.” she watched the dear, trusting face, which, for a while, looked very sober, as if debating the possibilities she had suggested. finally a bright light passed over it, and he said, “mamma, do you think it would do any good if i should write to her thanking her for the album?” “i do not know,” i said, “but you might try it.” a rich spiritual truth began to dawn upon her. in a few minutes a letter was prepared and committed to the mail, and he went off whistling his confidence in his grandma. in just a short time a letter came, saying: “my dear georgie: i have not forgotten my promise to you, of an album. i tried to get such a book as you desired, but could not get the sort you wanted; so i sent on to new york. it did not get here till after christmas, and it was still not right, so i sent for another, and as it has not come as yet. i am sending you three dollars to get one there. your loving grandma.” “as he read the letter, his face was the face of a victor. ”now, mamma, didn’t i tell you?“ his words spoken came from the depths of a heart that never doubted, that, ”against hope, believed in hope" that the stamp album would come. while he was trusting, grandma was working, and in due season faith became sight. it is so human to want sight before faith when we step out on the promises of God, but our Savior said to thomas, and to the long roll of doubters who have ever since followed him: “blessed are they who have not seen, and yet have believed.” ------- child-like faith - that's what our Lord wants from us. it doesn't take any faith to believe for something readily available or even easily attainable. i am reminded again of the story about the town that was gathering together to pray for long-needed rain. it was only one small child who took her umbrella to the meeting and was confused why everyone else had not. she alone expected it to rain. it takes faith to believe when all the facts are shouting otherwise at your senses; when scoffers and mockers abound. "the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ." 1 pet 1:7 how's your sight? can you see it now? if so, to all the doubting thomas' we boldly proclaim: "and this is the victory that has overcome the world — our faith." 1 john 5:4 faith has enabled us to see!

#prayer #faith #rapture #jesus #jesus is coming

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sorrows-of-young-werther-daily · 9 months

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December 20 (Part 2)

About ten in the morning, Werther called his servant, and, whilst he was dressing, told him that in a few days he intended to set out upon a journey, and bade him therefore lay his clothes in order, and prepare them for packing up, call in all his accounts, fetch home the books he had lent, and give two months' pay to the poor dependants who were accustomed to receive from him a weekly allowance.

He breakfasted in his room, and then mounted his horse, and went to visit the steward, who, however, was not at home. He walked pensively in the garden, and seemed anxious to renew all the ideas that were most painful to him.

The children did not suffer him to remain alone long. They followed him, skipping and dancing before him, and told him, that after to-morrow and tomorrow and one day more, they were to receive their Christmas gift from Charlotte; and they then recounted all the wonders of which they had formed ideas in their child imaginations. "Tomorrow and tomorrow," said he, "and one day more!" And he kissed them tenderly. He was going; but the younger boy stopped him, to whisper something in his ear. He told him that his elder brothers had written splendid New-Year's wishes so large! one for papa, and another for Albert and Charlotte, and one for Werther; and they were to be presented early in the morning, on New Year's Day. This quite overcame him. He made each of the children a present, mounted his horse, left his compliments for papa and mamma, and, with tears in his eyes, rode away from the place.

He returned home about five o'clock, ordered his servant to keep up his fire, desired him to pack his books and linen at the bottom of the trunk, and to place his coats at the top. He then appears to have made the following addition to the letter addressed to Charlotte:

"You do not expect me. You think I will obey you, and not visit you again till Christmas Eve. O Charlotte, today or never! On Christmas Eve you will hold this paper in your hand; you will tremble, and moisten it with your tears. I will—I must! Oh, how happy I feel to be determined!"

In the meantime, Charlotte was in a pitiable state of mind. After her last conversation with Werther, she found how painful to herself it would be to decline his visits, and knew how severely he would suffer from their separation.

She had, in conversation with Albert, mentioned casually that Werther would not return before Christmas Eve; and soon afterward Albert went on horseback to see a person in the neighbourhood, with whom he had to transact some business which would detain him all night.

Charlotte was sitting alone. None of her family were near, and she gave herself up to the reflections that silently took possession of her mind. She was for ever united to a husband whose love and fidelity she had proved, to whom she was heartily devoted, and who seemed to be a special gift from Heaven to ensure her happiness. On the other hand, Werther had become dear to her. There was a cordial unanimity of sentiment between them from the very first hour of their acquaintance, and their long association and repeated interviews had made an indelible impression upon her heart. She had been accustomed to communicate to him every thought and feeling which interested her, and his absence threatened to open a void in her existence which it might be impossible to fill. How heartily she wished that she might change him into her brother,—that she could induce him to marry one of her own friends, or could reestablish his intimacy with Albert.

She passed all her intimate friends in review before her mind, but found something objectionable in each, and could decide upon none to whom she would consent to give him.

Amid all these considerations she felt deeply but indistinctly that her own real but unexpressed wish was to retain him for herself, and her pure and amiable heart felt from this thought a sense of oppression which seemed to forbid a prospect of happiness. She was wretched: a dark cloud obscured her mental vision.

It was now half-past six o'clock, and she heard Werther's step on the stairs. She at once recognised his voice, as he inquired if she were at home. Her heart beat audibly—we could almost say for the first time—at his arrival. It was too late to deny herself; and, as he entered, she exclaimed, with a sort of ill concealed confusion, "You have not kept your word!" "I promised nothing," he answered. "But you should have complied, at least for my sake," she continued. "I implore you, for both our sakes."

She scarcely knew what she said or did; and sent for some friends, who, by their presence, might prevent her being left alone with Werther. He put down some books he had brought with him, then made inquiries about some others, until she began to hope that her friends might arrive shortly, entertaining at the same time a desire that they might stay away.

At one moment she felt anxious that the servant should remain in the adjoining room, then she changed her mind. Werther, meanwhile, walked impatiently up and down. She went to the piano, and determined not to retire. She then collected her thoughts, and sat down quietly at Werther's side, who had taken his usual place on the sofa.

"Have you brought nothing to read?" she inquired. He had nothing. "There in my drawer," she continued, "you will find your own translation of some of the songs of Ossian. I have not yet read them, as I have still hoped to hear you recite them; but, for some time past, I have not been able to accomplish such a wish." He smiled, and went for the manuscript, which he took with a shudder. He sat down; and, with eyes full of tears, he began to read.

"Star of descending night! fair is thy light in the west! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud; thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings: the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile and depart. The waves come with joy around thee: they bathe thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam! Let the light of Ossian's soul arise!

"And it does arise in its strength! I behold my departed friends. Their gathering is on Lora, as in the days of other years. Fingal comes like a watery column of mist! his heroes are around: and see the bards of song, gray-haired Ullin! stately Ryno! Alpin with the tuneful voice: the soft complaint of Minona! How are ye changed, my friends, since the days of Selma's feast! when we contended, like gales of spring as they fly along the hill, and bend by turns the feebly whistling grass.

"Minona came forth in her beauty, with downcast look and tearful eye. Her hair was flying slowly with the blast that rushed unfrequent from the hill. The souls of the heroes were sad when she raised the tuneful voice. Oft had they seen the grave of Salgar, the dark dwelling of white-bosomed Colma. Colma left alone on the hill with all her voice of song! Salgar promised to come! but the night descended around. Hear the voice of Colma, when she sat alone on the hill!

"Colma. It is night: I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard on the mountain. The torrent is howling down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain: forlorn on the hill of winds!

"Rise moon! from behind thy clouds. Stars of the night, arise! Lead me, some light, to the place where my love rests from the chase alone! His bow near him unstrung, his dogs panting around him! But here I must sit alone by the rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the wind roar aloud. I hear not the voice of my love! Why delays my Salgar; why the chief of the hill his promise? Here is the rock and here the tree! here is the roaring stream! Thou didst promise with night to be here. Ah! whither is my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly from my father, with thee from my brother of pride. Our race have long been foes: we are not foes, O Salgar!

"Cease a little while, O wind! stream, be thou silent awhile! let my voice be heard around! let my wanderer hear me! Salgar! it is Colma who calls. Here is the tree and the rock. Salgar, my love, I am here! Why delayest thou thy coming? Lo! the calm moon comes forth. The flood is bright in the vale. The rocks are gray on the steep. I see him not on the brow. His dogs come not before him with tidings of his near approach. Here I must sit alone!

"Who lie on the heath beside me? Are they my love and my brother? Speak to me, O my friends! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me: I am alone! My soul is tormented with fears. Ah, they are dead! Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar! Why, O Salgar, hast thou slain my brother! Dear were ye both to me! what shall I say in your praise? Thou wert fair on the hill among thousands! he was terrible in fight! Speak to me! hear my voice! hear me, sons of my love! They are silent! silent for ever! Cold, cold, are their breasts of clay! Oh, from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead! Speak, I will not be afraid! Whither are ye gone to rest? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed? No feeble voice is on the gale: no answer half drowned in the storm!

"I sit in my grief: I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream. Why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my friends, by the stream of the sounding rock. When night comes on the hill when the loud winds arise my ghost shall stand in the blast, and mourn the death of my friends. The hunter shall hear from his booth; he shall fear, but love my voice! For sweet shall my voice be for my friends: pleasant were her friends to Colma.

"Such was thy song, Minona, softly blushing daughter of Torman. Our tears descended for Colma, and our souls were sad! Ullin came with his harp; he gave the song of Alpin. The voice of Alpin was pleasant, the soul of Ryno was a beam of fire! But they had rested in the narrow house: their voice had ceased in Selma! Ullin had returned one day from the chase before the heroes fell. He heard their strife on the hill: their song was soft, but sad! They mourned the fall of Morar, first of mortal men! His soul was like the soul of Fingal: his sword like the sword of Oscar. But he fell, and his father mourned: his sister's eyes were full of tears. Minona's eyes were full of tears, the sister of car-borne Morar. She retired from the song of Ullin, like the moon in the west, when she foresees the shower, and hides her fair head in a cloud. I touched the harp with Ullin: the song of morning rose!

"Ryno. The wind and the rain are past, calm is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant sun. Red through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, O stream! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It is the voice of Alpin, the son of song, mourning for the dead! Bent is his head of age: red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of song, why alone on the silent hill? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood as a wave on the lonely shore?

"Alpin. My tears, O Ryno! are for the dead my voice for those that have passed away. Tall thou art on the hill; fair among the sons of the vale. But thou shalt fall like Morar: the mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more: thy bow shall lie in thy hall unstrung!

"Thou wert swift, O Morar! as a roe on the desert: terrible as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath was as the storm. Thy sword in battle as lightning in the field. Thy voice was as a stream after rain, like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by thy arm: they were consumed in the flames of thy wrath. But when thou didst return from war, how peaceful was thy brow. Thy face was like the sun after rain: like the moon in the silence of night: calm as the breast of the lake when the loud wind is laid.

"Narrow is thy dwelling now! dark the place of thine abode! With three steps I compass thy grave, O thou who wast so great before! Four stones, with their heads of moss, are the only memorial of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long grass which whistles in the wind, mark to the hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar. Morar! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no mother to mourn thee, no maid with her tears of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth. Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.

"Who on his staff is this? Who is this whose head is white with age, whose eyes are red with tears, who quakes at every step? It is thy father, O Morar! the father of no son but thee. He heard of thy fame in war, he heard of foes dispersed. He heard of Morar's renown, why did he not hear of his wound? Weep, thou father of Morar! Weep, but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the sleep of the dead, low their pillow of dust. No more shall he hear thy voice, no more awake at thy call. When shall it be morn in the grave, to bid the slumberer awake? Farewell, thou bravest of men! thou conqueror in the field! but the field shall see thee no more, nor the dark wood be lightened with the splendour of thy steel. Thou has left no son. The song shall preserve thy name. Future times shall hear of thee they shall hear of the fallen Morar!

"The grief of all arose, but most the bursting sigh of Armin. He remembers the death of his son, who fell in the days of his youth. Carmor was near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal. Why burst the sigh of Armin? he said. Is there a cause to mourn? The song comes with its music to melt and please the soul. It is like soft mist that, rising from a lake, pours on the silent vale; the green flowers are filled with dew, but the sun returns in his strength, and the mist is gone. Why art thou sad, O Armin, chief of sea-surrounded Gorma?

"Sad I am! nor small is my cause of woe! Carmor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives, and Annira, fairest maid. The boughs of thy house ascend, O Carmor! but Armin is the last of his race. Dark is thy bed, O Daura! deep thy sleep in the tomb! When shalt thou wake with thy songs? with all thy voice of music?

"Arise, winds of autumn, arise: blow along the heath. Streams of the mountains, roar; roar, tempests in the groves of my oaks! Walk through broken clouds, O moon! show thy pale face at intervals; bring to my mind the night when all my children fell, when Arindal the mighty fell—when Daura the lovely failed. Daura, my daughter, thou wert fair, fair as the moon on Fura, white as the driven snow, sweet as the breathing gale. Arindal, thy bow was strong, thy spear was swift on the field, thy look was like mist on the wave, thy shield a red cloud in a storm! Armar, renowned in war, came and sought Daura's love. He was not long refused: fair was the hope of their friends.

"Erath, son of Odgal, repined: his brother had been slain by Armar. He came disguised like a son of the sea: fair was his cliff on the wave, white his locks of age, calm his serious brow. Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armin! a rock not distant in the sea bears a tree on its side; red shines the fruit afar. There Armar waits for Daura. I come to carry his love! she went she called on Armar. Nought answered, but the son of the rock. Armar, my love, my love! why tormentest thou me with fear? Hear, son of Arnart, hear! it is Daura who calleth thee. Erath, the traitor, fled laughing to the land. She lifted up her voice—she called for her brother and her father. Arindal! Armin! none to relieve you, Daura.

"Her voice came over the sea. Arindal, my son, descended from the hill, rough in the spoils of the chase. His arrows rattled by his side; his bow was in his hand, five dark-gray dogs attended his steps. He saw fierce Erath on the shore; he seized and bound him to an oak. Thick wind the thongs of the hide around his limbs; he loads the winds with his groans. Arindal ascends the deep in his boat to bring Daura to land. Armar came in his wrath, and let fly the gray-feathered shaft. It sung, it sunk in thy heart, O Arindal, my son! for Erath the traitor thou diest. The oar is stopped at once: he panted on the rock, and expired. What is thy grief, O Daura, when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood. The boat is broken in twain. Armar plunges into the sea to rescue his Daura, or die. Sudden a blast from a hill came over the waves; he sank, and he rose no more.

"Alone, on the sea-beat rock, my daughter was heard to complain; frequent and loud were her cries. What could her father do? All night I stood on the shore: I saw her by the faint beam of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud was the wind; the rain beat hard on the hill. Before morning appeared, her voice was weak; it died away like the evening breeze among the grass of the rocks. Spent with grief, she expired, and left thee, Armin, alone. Gone is my strength in war, fallen my pride among women. When the storms aloft arise, when the north lifts the wave on high, I sit by the sounding shore, and look on the fatal rock.

"Often by the setting moon I see the ghosts of my children; half viewless they walk in mournful conference together."

A torrent of tears which streamed from Charlotte's eyes and gave relief to her bursting heart, stopped Werther's recitation. He threw down the book, seized her hand, and wept bitterly. Charlotte leaned upon her hand, and buried her face in her handkerchief: the agitation of both was excessive. They felt that their own fate was pictured in the misfortunes of Ossian's heroes, they felt this together, and their tears redoubled. Werther supported his forehead on Charlotte's arm: she trembled, she wished to be gone; but sorrow and sympathy lay like a leaden weight upon her soul. She recovered herself shortly, and begged Werther, with broken sobs, to leave her, implored him with the utmost earnestness to comply with her request. He trembled; his heart was ready to burst: then, taking up the book again, he recommenced reading, in a voice broken by sobs.

"Why dost thou waken me, O spring? Thy voice woos me, exclaiming, I refresh thee with heavenly dews; but the time of my decay is approaching, the storm is nigh that shall whither my leaves. Tomorrow the traveller shall come, he shall come, who beheld me in beauty: his eye shall seek me in the field around, but he shall not find me."

The whole force of these words fell upon the unfortunate Werther. Full of despair, he threw himself at Charlotte's feet, seized her hands, and pressed them to his eyes and to his forehead. An apprehension of his fatal project now struck her for the first time. Her senses were bewildered: she held his hands, pressed them to her bosom; and, leaning toward him with emotions of the tenderest pity, her warm cheek touched his. They lost sight of everything. The world disappeared from their eyes. He clasped her in his arms, strained her to his bosom, and covered her trembling lips with passionate kisses. "Werther!" she cried with a faint voice, turning herself away; "Werther!" and, with a feeble hand, she pushed him from her. At length, with the firm voice of virtue, she exclaimed, "Werther!" He resisted not, but, tearing himself from her arms, fell on his knees before her. Charlotte rose, and, with disordered grief, in mingled tones of love and resentment, she exclaimed, "It is the last time, Werther! You shall never see me any more!" Then, casting one last, tender look upon her unfortunate lover, she rushed into the adjoining room, and locked the door. Werther held out his arms, but did not dare to detain her. He continued on the ground, with his head resting on the sofa, for half an hour, till he heard a noise which brought him to his senses. The servant entered. He then walked up and down the room; and, when he was again left alone, he went to Charlotte's door, and, in a low voice, said, "Charlotte, Charlotte! but one word more, one last adieu!" She returned no answer. He stopped, and listened and entreated; but all was silent. At length he tore himself from the place, crying, "Adieu, Charlotte, adieu for ever!"

#the sorrows of young werther daily #December 20 part 2

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happibox · 4 months

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#Present till mamma

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tillerman1 · 1 year

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AUTUMN SONATA (word) pt.1

Autumn Sonata

a screenplay by Ingmar Bergman

translated to the word by Thomas Jester

PROLOGUE

VIKTOR: Occasionally stands I and look at my wife, without that she knows about my presence. She loves to sit there gone off corner window, just now think I that she writes a letter to her mother. Initial the time she came in at this here room said she: "This is good, here want I exist." We had only known each other some days, it was a bishops conference in Trondheim cum she was there as deputy for some church newspaper. We met at a lunch cum I told of the parsonage here out. She was so interested, I've dared propose that we should travel here one morning, as the conference was out. On the way inquired I her if she wanted (to) marry herself with me. She responded not, but when we step in of it here room turned her to against me and said: this is good, here wants I exist. Later its have we lived one good and still living here in the parsonage. Eva has naturally told for (sic-of) me about her earlier life. After the student exam read her at the university; engaged herself with a doctor and lived with him under several years, wrote two small books, became ill with tuberculosis, broke the engagement and moved from Oslo till one small town in southern Norway, where she started work as journalist.[sic] (looking in one small book) So here is the first of her books, I think so much of it. There has she written: "Man must learn himself to live, I exercise myself every day. The severe hurdle is that I don't know who I am, I grope blindly. If any love me as I am, dare I perhaps finally view me myself." (ends read) I would some only time want talk of for her that she is beloved without reservation, but I can none say it in one such way that she believes me, I lack the correct words.

EVA: I have written mail till mamma! May I read up it for you, or interfere I?

VIKTOR: No, nope come in and strike yourself down. We light the lamp. Now notice man indeed that it has been fall in earnest. Wait, I will just shut off the radio, it is an afternoon concert.

EVA: If you want wench out at the concert, mayst I after come back later.

VIKTOR: I want very freely that you read up some mail.

EVA: (reads) I was in town yesterday cum met by one event Agnes, who was in temporarily stay at her parents with man and children. She told how Leonardo had died. Dearest small Mamma! I understand probably how terrible this must feel for you. Agnes told too that you found yourself in Ascona on occasional vacation between two concert tours. I rang Paul and got track of the address. (pause) Presently wonder me if you would get lust to come here till us in Bindal for some days or weeks, precisely as you self want and can. For that thou not should be too frightened and immediately say no, must I say whether that the parsonage is very spacious. You have your private rooms, completely secluded cum all comforts. Here is already autumn, we have had some frosts, birches are yellow and reddish, we pick the last cloudberry of the mire. But storms delayed and yet remains many done mild days. We have a fine grand and you can practice as much you have lust. Would that not be good to avoid house on hotel any weeks? Dearest Mamma, say that you will! We will potter about you and spoil away you in all imaginable ways. It was why so awfully long since we observed. In October is one seven years! Dearest greetings from Viktor and your daughter Eva. [sic]

(Charlotte arrives earlier than expected.[sic] The clock is eleven in the morning when she queues up before the rectory's yellow range. Eva is right on the stairs between the floors. Through the window she sees, herself unseen, how the mother slowly gets out of the car, how she stops indecisively at the boot. A moment of immobility.)

EVA: (in the yard) Dear little mom, welcome. So funny that you're here, I almost don't think it's true. Now you stay long, don't you? God saw heavy bags. Do you have all your notes with you? How I'm pleased myself, now provides you me some lessons, that make you well! Mom little, what you look tired. But of course, the car trip was long understood. Viktor is not at home at the moment, we thought not you would come so early.

CHARLOTTE: I sat with Leonardo for the last 24 hours. He had severe pain, despite receiving syringes every two hours. Sometimes he wept, but he was not afraid of death, just crying because it hurt. The day went on and on was evening. Outward they were in the hospital doing construction work, they drilled and hammered and slammed, the sun fried, there were no blinds or awnings. Poor Leonardo, he was so embarrassed (be)for(e) that he smelled bad. We tried getting one other place only several departments were closed for repairs. On night silent alarm from the building place cum when the sun gut down could I uncap window. The heat was like a wall outside, right windless. The Professor came, he is an old friend till Leonardo. He sat in on the chair fore the pillow and said, that now was it not far left, that he would get a shot in a half-hour so that he would to sleep without pain. The professor patted Leonardo on the cheek and said, that he would go to a Brahms concert in the evening, but that he would look in after the concert. Leonardo inquired what they would play cum then the Professor spoke about how they would play the double concerto with Schneiderhan cum Starker asked Leonardo, that he would greet Janos that he wanted yield him his Coltermann-cello, that he long had thought of them. So went the professor cum a departmental nurse came in and gave Leonardo a shot. She thought that I should eat something only I was not peckish, I felt only ill of the smell. Leonardo asleep some minutes. When he the awake asked it myself to go out clock room. Simultaneously called he of the night nurse. She came immediately with a syringe. After some moments came her out to me in the corridor cum spoke about how Leonardo was dead. I sat with him all night. (pause) I thought through that he had been my friend for eighteen years, that we had lived together for thirteen years, that we never told each other one evil or sudden word. In two years did it that he would die, to it not existed any hope. As often I could, traveled I and greeted across him in his villa outside Naples. He was kind and caring and delighted to at my successes. We spoke and joked and played some chamber music(,)[;] he talked almost not all about his disease cum I would the not ask, it had he not liked on. One day looked it long at me, then laughed he and said: "Next year at the round time am I away, but I will always be with you in all fall, I will always think of you." It was the sweet told from Leonardo only he was gladly something theatrical. (pause) I can not say that I go around and pine. His death was both expected and overdue. One is clear that it feels plot any time then and then. But man mayst not dig down himself. (laughing) Think you that I have changed much in the here seven years as we not seen each other. Yes, I color hair see, Leonardo wanted none see myself gray-hairy, but else am self me like, think you don't? It here jumpsuit bought me in Zurich, I did enjoy something comfortable for me for the long car trip, I saw it in a window on Bahnhofstrasse, I went in and tried cum it sat perfectly cum it was astounding cheap. Think you not that it is quite good-looking?

EVA: Well fondest mamma, it is jolly good-looking.

CHARLOTTE: Now must I pack up, wants you forward me with the here bag, it is filthy, cumbrous cum I have such damn pain in the back after the trip.Think you that man could find a wooden quarrel to lay under the mattress, I must lie hard, as you know.

EVA: There is already a wooden slab under the mattress. That la[[y?]] us there yesterday.

CHARLOTTE: Wonderful. (rectifies herself) What is it, Eva small? Cry you. Yes, wait(,) now may I see. Are you sad? My small kid, are you sad. Have I said something stupid, you know how I talk!

EVA: I cry only for that I am so happy to see you.

CHARLOTTE: Now hugs we each other properly hard, just like when you were little. I only talk about myself self all the time, now must you share, dear Eva-small. Get regard at you. Are you not thinner right very in the last years, now sees me, you are not either glad, but then must you tell why you are sad, come so puts we us here, have you something against that I take a cigarette? How are you it really, small Eva?

EVA: I have it great. Very good.

CHARLOTTE: Liver you-all not very isolated?

EVA: We have some parish's working both Viktor and me.

CHARLOTTE: Yes, it is clear.

EVA: I play oft-times in church. In last month had (been) me one whole Music evening. I played and told of this I played. It was very successful.

CHARLOTTE: You may not forget to play something for me. If thou has lust understood.

EVA: That wants me gladly.

CHARLOTTE: I had five school concerts in Los Angeles in their Music Hall. Three thousand barn (children) each time. I played and recounted. You suspect not what success. But dreadful grueling.

EVA: Mamma, there is one thing I must tell you.

CHARLOTTE: Yes.

EVA: Helena is here. (pause)

CHARLOTTE: (evil) You should write it {till} (to) me that she was here. It is not correct for you to put myself in for the complete fact.

EVA: Of I had spoken about for you that she lived round would you not have come.

CHARLOTTE: I am sure at that I had come in all fall.

EVA: I am sure on to you not had come.

CHARLOTTE: Enough there not with Leonardo's death? Was it necessary to drag here poor Lena also?

EVA: Lena stays here later two years. I wrote till you to Viktor cum me certainly ourself for how matter Lena about her wanted nest here with us. I wrote till yourself.

CHARLOTTE: It some mail has I never got.

EVA: Nor also bothered you you weren't about to read it.

CHARLOTTE: (suddenly calm) Was that not one quite unjust accusation.

EVA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: I cope none see her. Among any fall don't today.

EVA: Mamma purple! Lena is one wonderful person, she has only so badly to speak, but I have learned me understand what she says. I can be with and translate. Her longing so terrible for to get hit you.

CHARLOTTE: Lord God, she had it the so good on the where chronicler home.

EVA: But I longed after her.

CHARLOTTE: Are you sure upon that she has it better here with you?

EVA: Yes[,] it has her. And I have someone to take care away.

CHARLOTTE: Has she become inferior? I mean has she …? Is she …? I mean inferior?

EVA: That is clear that she be it worse. It belongs why together with the disease.

CHARLOTTE: Come then so walks we and greet with her.

EVA: Are you sure of how you want?

CHARLOTTE: (smiles) I think it is the fear's worth uncomfortable only I have no choice.[I find it terribly unpleasant but I have no choice.]

EVA: Mamma!

CHARLOTTE: I have always had severely with people who are unconscious of their motives.

EVA: Intends thou me?

CHARLOTTE: You can take it as you want. Now walks we.

CHARLOTTE: Lena purple. Presently are you get one hug and one kiss. I take your arms as here and add you them on my shoulders. I have thought of you often, each day.

Helena says something.

EVA: Helena says that she has pain in the throat and that she not wants infection down you.

CHARLOTTE: (kissing her again) Oh, I have well never been afraid for bacilli. It was twenty years then I possess the cold. What the discriminating room you have. And what views. It is like scenery as I have from my room.

Helena says something.

EVA: Lena says that I should take off her eyewear so that you can see her properly.

CHARLOTTE: I look you the in all fall.

Helena says something.

EVA: She wants how you should take her about the head with hands cum then will you look at her.

CHARLOTTE: Is the good so?

HELENA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: I am so glad for how Eva manages about you. I knew the nothing, I thought you where left on the where home.[sic] I thought virtually health on you before I traveled. But so here is the course very preferable, not true.

HELENA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: Now may we be together each day.

HELENA: (happy) Yes.

CHARLOTTE: Have you evil?

HELENA: No.

CHARLOTTE: So nice you are in the hair.

Helena says something.

EVA: It is till your honor, mamma.

CHARLOTTE: I'm currently reading one mighty good book on the French Revolution. If you want, I can read aloud for you. We can sit together on the veranda and so reads I for you. Would you like back that?

HELENA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: And then can we take a tour per the car. I have why never been of them here regions.

HELENA: Yes.

CHARLOTTE: I have thought so much of you.

Helena says something and laughs.

CHARLOTTE: What says she?

EVA: Lena says that you must be mighty tired, and how you none need strain you more today. She thinks that you have been good.

CHARLOTTE: Has Lena no watch?

EVA: Yes[,] certainly! She has a clock on the bed!

CHARLOTTE: Here, Lena, should you get my wristwatch. I got it off a fan who thought I was bad on to mind the time. Eat Lena dinner with us?

EVA: No, I usually give her some home feed middle of [the day?]. She slims incidentally. As long she each at some hospital ate her right for much.

Helena says something.

EVA: Lena says that …

CHARLOTTE: Wait, I understood what Lena would say: There is a butterfly in the windows! Was it right?

CHARLOTTE: (alone) Why feel I me as if I had excitement. Why wants I only cry. So from idiotic silly. I should stand where ashamed. The is opinions. And so badly conscience. Always, always bad conscience. Had so in a hurry to come here. What imagined I me actually? What were the I longed after so desperately, fixed me none dared admit the for us self? Now takes me one shower-bath and late sleeping me one hour, in each case adds I me on the bed and snooze and late should I take with me something nice till the dinner. So that Eva becomes enforced permit that her olden mum is well maintained. There is no idea to initiate cry, o'clock is already over four. Damn also. There sat she and looked at me with their large eyes. I held her face between hands cum self felt how the disease jerked in her stacks' throat muscles. Damn also, how self not can uplift up her and wear her to my bed and comfort her as when she was three years. That there shattered soft body, it is why my Lena. Don't cry now for hell. The clock is already a quarter past four. I should shower as comes I on other thoughts. I cards of the visit. But four days should go great. The manages I. Later travels I to Africa as I originally had planned. It makes evil. Evil. Evil. Keep now. Do the evil in the same way in the Bartok Sonata 2nd movement. (hums and humming for to self) Yes. I have taken the bars right for quickly, the is clear. So here must the be: the prelude pam-pam and late comes the one small snake of torments. Slowly but without tears, for where available not longer some tears or has never found. So yes. If the here correct has the visit in the rectory in all fall had one certainly value. Now to[translated from Bing] I take my red dress cum this does I of rudeness, after which Eva thinks that I should wear something more suitable so here just after Leonardo's death. My body is the in all fall nothing wrong on. It is perhaps not so damn elegant[,] but it is one good and kind body. When I will till Africa should me - or perhaps I would trip till Crete and greet away Harold. (laughs) The certain is he a pig the good Harold only he prepares good food cum he vet how Man should live. I call him tonight, one does self, that should be nice after four hours' godliness. (suddenly) So am self so mean, self am why angry all the time. Eva and Viktor have so long as been please against me and shown that they are happy to have me here. And Viktor is actually one nice prick. It is lucky for Eva, a crybaby, that she has got one as pass nice fellow. Now should you see that the shower not functions either! Well[,] think that it did it.

EVA: This incomprehensible strange mother! You ought seen her when I spoke about that Lena lived here with us. You ought seen her smiling. Mayst you think you to she got together till one smiling, despite the surprise and the fright. And then when we stood outside the door to Lena's room: an actress before her entrance, insanely afraid but collected. The dissimulation was sovereign. Believe thou that my mother is completely emotionless. Why came her here intrinsically? What friend after her it by a reunion after seven years. How waited her to. And what friend after ME me. Ends Man never to hope.

VIKTOR: I think not it.

EVA: Ends Man never to be mother and daughter?

VIKTOR: Some do well there.

EVA: It is like a heavy ghost that suddenly falls over one when Man opens the door to the nursery since Man for long late has forgotten that it despite all is the door to the nursery. Think you to I is full-grown?

VIKTOR: I vet not what as opines cum to be full-grown.

EVA: That vet no self either.

VIKTOR: To be full-grown is well to can gloves with their dreams and hopes. Man longs not.

EVA: Think you.

VIKTOR: Man ends perhaps to amaze to.

EVA: How you look sensible outward with you seated there with your old pipe. You are probably wholly and some way adult.

VIKTOR: So believe I don't. Self surprises me each day.

EVA: Over what?

VIKTOR: Over you till example. Whether also having self completely unreasonable dreams and hopes. And someone sorts desire with for the parts.

EVA: Longing?

VIKTOR: I long after you.

EVA: That there are mighty beautiful words, is it none? I mean words that don't mean something real. I am bred with beautiful words. The order "pain" till example. Mamma is not cursed or miscalculated or unhappy(,)[;] she "feels pain." You have as well one mass such there vocable. Beside you is that well someone sorts occupational damage. If thou says that you long after me despite how self stands here middle towards you, so becomes I suspicious.

VIKTOR: You vet very well what I mean.

EVA: No. If I knew it ought you never arrive at the idea to say that you long after me.

VIKTOR: (smiles) That is true.

EVA: What proves that I am least equal wise as you, perhaps wiser, which in cum for itself no want say so much. Now should I go out in the kitchen and see to the calf steak. Mom has always thought that I am ill on that prepare food, she is one real guzzler, I have heard her talk one whole night with one American impresario if how man laws sauces. They were indeed excited both two.

VIKTOR: I think thou prepares -

EVA: Wonderful food. Thanks(,) my friend. I get not either forget to make decaffeinated coffee at my dear mamma. I have often wondered over for what reason she is sleepless. I think self vet the reason. If the woman sleeping normally would her vitality crush the environment(,)[;] her insomnia is natures own regulate for that get down it in fairly bearable proportions. (out, in again) Now to you see how nice she has made herself till the dinner. See only on the perfect trim as on one discreet way should remind us if to she despite all is one alone and grieving widow.

EVA: Dear mama, what beautiful dressing!

CHARLOTTE: Think you it suits me? I thought long that I not could have red only as one day met I my old friend Samuel Parkenhurst and he said(:) "Charlotte, I will just from Dior's fall viewing cum there had they a red dress that was yours entirely and direction." Me bad him get it and - it clothes me indeed. I am hungry as a wolf.

EVA: Hoping you will content. I have fried a calf steak. That usually you like of.

CHARLOTTE: Magnificent. Only to could eat homemade after all the hotel food.

VIKTOR: Yes, to we toast when. Welcome here to the rectory, dear Charlotte. Welcome of the heart, might you thrive and stay a long time.

CHARLOTTE: (in English[directly from the film]) Hello, is that you, Paul. Hello? Yes; no, no, not at all, we've just finished dinner. Yes, that's the way it is. In this country, you eat dinner at four o'clock. What? Another concert? Wait a minute let… no, you must speak up, I can't hear you. Well, the line is so noisy. Wait a minute, I have to get my book and… my glasses, [where the hell did I put them.] [back to Swedish] Eva, can you see if I've put my glasses on the table by the window? (back to English/film] Where are you? In Monte Carlo! What are you doing in Monte Carlo? Mind you don't gamble my money away. What? (Eva brings glasses) Thank you, Eva darling! [CUT FROM THE FILM (from Swedish: (business-like) Yes, it has I, but they should not think the so should go equally easy as last time. Greet them that for my part can gladly the fee be the same, excluding your commission and travel costs. Too should they stand for my expenses, that was expensive, I became practically taken ruined, also get one's permission to put its repetition so that it fits better. (looks in her calendar) I come from Munich; they may rehearse on Saturday and Sunday morning if Varviso insists on two repetitions. I will not rush life from me; the connections are abysmal; Man may sit at the different airports all day. …Now should you see] Now the old gal has the glasses on her nose. Here, let me see… Oh no, that's impossible! That's my time off, and you know that very well. No… no it's no good, I wouldn't dream of it. Here I have.. I have written free, free, free…. How much do they pay, did you say? Good Lord! (laughs) Alright, If they can make that concert on Wednesday, the 17th, it'll be alright. Ok. And tell them from me, that they have to fix a proper toilet behind the platform. Yes, so I don't have to pee in a flower vase. (laughs) Well, I don't care how baroque the castle is. In the 90's? Oh, well, Take care of yourself so you don't overdo it. Mm, and remember, we are not as young as we were. Yes, I love you, you know that. (hangs up) (back to Swedish) That each my agent, he is so cute. Nowadays am he my only friend in the round world. No thanks, no cognac for me, but gladly one small whiskey in front the evening's bend. Can I now not could help till with to a cloth off.

VIKTOR: We said why that we would spoil away you.

CHARLOTTE: (strikes herself down at the flywing [grand piano]) What fine old instrument, what nice sound. And novel true [newly tuned]! (playing something) Now am I really on good humor. I worried myself through unnecessarily.

EVA: What mean you, mamma?

CHARLOTTE: (with tears in the eyes) Yes, what believe you look gal? Understands you not that one felt worried to see you again after seven years. I was thundering scared and could not sleep on all overnight and with morning held me at to call cancel, if you would know.

EVA: But mamma then!

CHARLOTTE: Think you I am girth of tin. Thanks, gladly two sugar bits. This here decaffeinated coffee is indeed not fun only what makes Man when Man not sleeping. I see that thou holding on with the Chopin preludes. Want you not last kind and play anything.

EVA: Not now[,] mamma.

CHARLOTTE: Eva! Where not childish. Thou prepares me one big joy if you choose punt for me.

VIKTOR: Eva small, you said last in goes-before that you hoped that your mother would volition listen to you. Have you forgotten that?

EVA: If you absolutely want. But I am far from - I mean that round is only cheating and just non-technical. Self has not bothered me about the fingering that available in the here edition. That should I none clear.

CHARLOTTE: Darling! Now features we consulted probably with excuses. Manner running only.

Eva does Chopin's Prelude no. 2 in A minor.

CHARLOTTE: Dearest little Eva.

EVA: Is it everything you have to say?

CHARLOTTE: No, no, I became only so moved.

EVA: (bright) Thought you if it?

CHARLOTTE: I liked supposing YOU.

EVA: I understand not what thou mean.

CHARLOTTE: Mayst you don't play anything off the other. [sic?] Now that we have it so nice.

EVA: I would know what I did for error.

CHARLOTTE: You did no wrong.

EVA: But you thought not if my way to play just the here prelude.

CHARLOTTE: Where and one must have its own perception.

EVA: Sure. Just the. And now wants me ken din.

CHARLOTTE: What should it serve till?

EVA: (hostile) Therefore that I ASK if it.

CHARLOTTE: You are already evil.

EVA: I am sorry, for to you apparently not think the is while worth to speak if for me, how you self looks on just the here prelude.

CHARLOTTE: Well, if you absolutely want. (calm) Us ignores thus from the cleanly technical as not were so mad, despite that you well could have interested you one crumb more for Cortot's fingering, because it gives one particular help at interpretation. But for all some, we care us none about it the problematic, without speaking only about oneself the perception.

EVA: Well?

CHARLOTTE: Chopin is not sentimental, Eva! He is emotional but not sentimental. It is an abyss between sense and sentimentality. The prelude that you played speaks of restrained pain, not about dreams. You must be quiet, clear and severe. The temperature is pile fever, but the expression is masculine dominated. Views you round only the first bars. (shows and plays) It does hurt but I'm showing it none. So one short easement. But it volatilizes almost immediately and thus is the plague THE SAME, not larger and not less. The mastery is all the time total. Chopin was proud, sarcastic, heated, tormented, furious and very manly. He was thus no emotional bitch. This round second prelude must (be) played almost ugly. It may never become ingratiating. IT SHOULD SOUND WRONG, laboriously nor successfully fought through. So here thus, here should you hear. (playing paragraph one walk till)

EVA: I understand.

CHARLOTTE: (almost humble) Become not sorry for me, Eva.

EVA: Why would I become sorry(.)[?] Contrariwise.

CHARLOTTE: In forty-five years of my living have I held on with the here awful preludes. Where available still one pulp secrets, such I don't understand. But I will not give me.

EVA: Near I was barn admired self yourself insane. Late where I right tired of you and your piano in several years. Now begins I certainly admire you again, although on one other way.

CHARLOTTE: (sarcastic) Then is that why some hope.

EVA: (serious) Yes, for all share.

VIKTOR: I think that Charlotte's analysis is seductive, but Eva's interpretation feels more anxious.

CHARLOTTE: (laughs happy) For this opinion mayst Viktor one kiss!

VIKTOR: (embarrassed) I'm stating just what I think.

{in the movie, not in the script}

CHARLOTTE: Eva, where are you?

FOR EVA: Mom, I'm up here.

CHARLOTTE: I've changed, so we can go for a walk if you want. Is this the nursery?

EVA: Yes, this is Erik's room.

CHARLOTTE: Why would you keep it this way?

EVA: We have often talked about changing it.] I'm going here till the grave each Saturday. About the is mild as of evening sitter me one while here on the bench and sounds thoughts go as the wants. (pause) Erik drowned the day before he would fill four years. We have one old well on the yard cum some lock is fixed, but in some way had he got up it and succumbed down. We found him almost immediately harm it was already away. Viktor managed not the where, the where something particularly between Erik and his papa. I grieved one whole part in one outer way. Innermost in felt I already from beginning that he still lived, that we lived tight adjacent each other. I need only concentrate me the very minimum, so available he there. Sometimes just near self should sleep khan I feel that he breathes against my face and so pipe it at me with sin hand. Think you the sounds overvoltage? I can perhaps understand if you think the. For me is the right naturally. He lives one other life only anytime can we reach each other, the available no limit, no unaffordable wall. Sometimes wonders self course, how the reality looks out where my small boy inhabiting and breathe. Simultaneously understand I the to the not goes to describe, since the is one world of liberated emotions. Viktor has the very difficult than I. It says that he no longer may believe in God as God sounds children die or burn broken, or become insanity or shot death or starve. Self tries explicate for him till the not available someone difference away barn and adults since the adults still am barn, as have to live disguised till adults. For me is man one enormous creation, as one unimaginable thought and in man available all, from the highest to the lowest, just as in life, and man is God's image and in God available all, all is as mighty forces and so creates the devils and the saint and the prophets and the dark man and the artists and destroyers. [sic] All available side by side and displacing in on each other. It is like that mighty pattern that the time changes, understand you how I mean? With as manner must the why also be one unrestricted amount realities, not only the reality being we make with our blunt senses without one riot of realities as arches to over and around each other, inside and outside. It is why only fear and snuff sense to believe in some borders. THERE ARE NO BOUNDARIES. Not for the thoughts, not for the emotions. It's the anxiety that sets the limits, don't you think so too? When thou playing slow rates in Beethoven's Hammer-piano sonata when need you the whiff that you pipe you in one world without restrictions, in of one vast motion as you never can through behold or explore. It's like with Jesus. He blasted laws and restrictions with an altogether new feeling, which none had heard spoken about earlier(,)[;] it was love. Finished how people save salvage and frantic, precisely how they almost always become horrified and try lam, once one great feeling overwhelms them, despite that they go there and crave themselves ruined after their parched and killed feelings.

CHARLOTTE: I will (be) horrified when I hear her reason. It is so overstretched - so beyond all sense. And so this obviousness! She's hanging out with your little boy; she has solved the world's riddle; there are answers to all the questions.

VIKTOR: (smiles) Yes, yes.

CHARLOTTE: You can't let her walk around like that.

VIKTOR: What do you mean?

CHARLOTTE: I think she is really terribly unhappy. And that she suddenly one day realizes how bad it is and then she does something crazy.

VIKTOR: Think you really do?

CHARLOTTE: Yes, I do believe so.

VIKTOR: Is she up with Lena?

CHARLOTTE: She was gonna make her ready for the night.

VIKTOR: Fashion you now down there a moment, dear Charlotte, and associated with, I'll try to explain how I see my wife.

CHARLOTTE: Yes, now I'm sitting?

VIKTOR: When I asked Eva to marry me, she immediately said that she did not love me. I asked if she loved anyone else. She replied that she had never loved any human being, that she was incapable of loving. (pause) Eva and I lived here for several years, we were kind towards each other, worked much, traveled abroad on my holidays, then born Erik. We had already given up hope to have a child of our own and talked a lot about us adopting - (pause) Thus. With her pregnancy, Eva underwent a complete change. She was glad, soft and outward. She became lazy, ignored parish work and her piano play. She could sit in that chair with her legs on another chair and look at the way of light over the mountain and fjord. We were suddenly overmuch happy - you apologize if I say so - we were much successful in bed indeed. I am twenty years older yet Eva, I'm liked enough that it had started lead as a gray film over existence, about thou understand what I mean. I liked that I could see myself round and say, so, yes, this here was then life, so here would it become. But then everything was different, there were some incredible - (pause) There were some incredible – (paus) You can forgive me, Charlotte, but it's still a little hard to (pause) Yes. It was a few years that were very rich. You should have seen Eva. You really should have seen her.

CHARLOTTE: I remember those years around Erik's birth. Just then, I recorded all the Mozart sonatas and piano concertos. I did not have a single day off.

VIKTOR: No, just that. We invited you again and again, but sadly you never had time.

CHARLOTTE: No.

VIKTOR: When Erik drowned, the gray film became even grayer. For Eva matter that thus different.

CHARLOTTE: Differently? How, differently?

VIKTOR: Her feeling lives unadulterated, at least it seems so. She has become thin and angular and is more unbalanced in her mood - she can, for example, have huge outbursts of anger. But I think not that she is overstressed or strange. And senses her that her son lives in her vicinity so is it perhaps in some way. She speaks not often about it(,)[;] she is properly cautious that it should make me ill - and it does that enough. But this it says sounds true. I believe her.

CHARLOTTE: Yes. You are the priest.

VIKTOR: The little faith I have, living on her terms.

CHARLOTTE: Sorry if I injured you.

VIKTOR: It does nothing, Charlotte. I am till unlike from you and Eva a diffuse and uncertain human.[sic] I may blame us myself.

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