[The name indeed he utters always in the way one speaks of memories, but the man who bears this name he never once left there in the past where such memories unfurled: for how could he leave behind him who possesses the other half of his imperfect soul?
Not once has it struck him that Olivia might be mistaken in this matter, for while his love is hers in the fullest thrust, in his heart remains Patroclus too, immortal there as he could not be in his own flesh, as everlasting as the stars which shine down from the vault of the sky on even the darkest of nights to offer guidance to men. She herself had said so once, with her knees bumping against his and her hand pressed tenderly against his chest where beats his heart: I'm right here. So is he.
Yet he hears now how her voice folds up small like the petals of a flower that languishes in the shade, and he sees how the warmth drains from her countenance like blood seeping from sliced flesh. His own features become lined with concern that for the moment overshadows his ebullience.]
Olivia, pleasure of my heart - what troubles you? How your visage pales like the face of the moon that from the night sky shines down! Is it that you tire from all this toil? Then that is all the more reason for you to hasten to my side, that you may sooner rest your weary limbs.
[The warm nest that fast vanishes from her fancy, collapsing upon itself as the saloon had done in the blistering belly of the fire, still welcomes them both in his estimation. His arms, from which she had risen too soon at the behest of the invading smoke, are ready for her return.]
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Not once has it struck him that Olivia might be mistaken in this matter, for while his love is hers in the fullest thrust, in his heart remains Patroclus too, immortal there as he could not be in his own flesh, as everlasting as the stars which shine down from the vault of the sky on even the darkest of nights to offer guidance to men. She herself had said so once, with her knees bumping against his and her hand pressed tenderly against his chest where beats his heart: I'm right here. So is he.
Yet he hears now how her voice folds up small like the petals of a flower that languishes in the shade, and he sees how the warmth drains from her countenance like blood seeping from sliced flesh. His own features become lined with concern that for the moment overshadows his ebullience.]
Olivia, pleasure of my heart - what troubles you? How your visage pales like the face of the moon that from the night sky shines down! Is it that you tire from all this toil? Then that is all the more reason for you to hasten to my side, that you may sooner rest your weary limbs.
[The warm nest that fast vanishes from her fancy, collapsing upon itself as the saloon had done in the blistering belly of the fire, still welcomes them both in his estimation. His arms, from which she had risen too soon at the behest of the invading smoke, are ready for her return.]