Secrets & Mysteries of the Sephardim - страница 20

“Infante Fernando,” she said in a gentle voice. “You do not need to get out of bed. You still look weak. Let me help you to lie down.”

Before Fernando could answer, Isabel suddenly appeared at his bedside. With smooth, almost airy movements of her hands, she spread the fluffy pillows. She held the back of Fernando’s head with her left hand and his right hand with her right and said affectionately, “Lie down, infante Fernando. You'll be much more comfortable that way. There. Take your time. Slowly.”

When he laid down comfortably, she carefully and skillfully removed her hand from under his head and tried to free her right hand, but Fernando gently took it and pressed her palm to his chest. “Move the chair closer to the bed, Isabel,” he asked. “While you were close to me and touching me, my illness was noticeably receding. I think you have healing properties. Please leave your hand in my hand.”

Philippa nimbly pulled Isabel's chair closer to the bed and invited her to sit.

“Thank you, infanta Philippa,” Isabel said as she sat in the chair.

“I'll leave you to Fernando then, OK?” Philippa asked.

“Thank you, Philippa, for bringing Isabel here.”

When Philippa left, Fernando turned to the nurse, “You can leave, too.” When they were alone, Fernando put Isabel's hand to his lips, kissed her, and said, “Isabel, I must confess something to you. I am ashamed to tell you this, but I lied to you last time.”

“What do you mean, infante Fernando?” Isabel asked perplexedly.

“I lied to you that I hadn't written poetry in a long time.”

“Fernando, I should not condemn you for this, but rather I should admire you. After all, you hid it from me because of your modesty. And, Fernando, it seems that this kind of talk on this subject is not good for you. For your health, you must have only positive emotions now. I suggest this trivial misunderstanding be forgotten for the time being.”

“Oh no, Isabel, please. I won’t feel at ease until you forgive me for my cowardice.”

“What does that have to do with cowardice, infante Fernando? And why should I forgive you at all? It seems to me that I don’t understand you.”

“The fact I hid the truth from you was not modesty,” Fernando explained. “I was afraid that once you knew the truth, you would perceive it incorrectly.”

There was silence. Isabel took Fernando's hand in both of hers and said, “So those poems at my door were yours?”

Fernando nodded. “They are mine. And everything written in them is true. I fell in love with you when I saw you on stage, Isabel. It was instantly clear to me that you were my destiny. And my happiness, if you accept my love, or my unhappiness if you reject it. It depends only on you. So tell me, Isabel, what do you want me to be, happy or brokenhearted?”

“Oh, infante Fernando,” Isabel answered excitedly. “I do not know what to say. You are very kind and honest, and I could certainly fall in love with you. But I am afraid to. If I fall in love with you and we are told we cannot marry, I will be heartbroken.

“And between us, there are many barriers, she said. “You are the king’s son, so your fate is not in your hands. I’m sure you know better than I that marriages of princes and infantes are decided at the national level and mostly for political purposes. Love plays a secondary role. I feel we can’t have a future together for that reason.