- Do not bother your cousin, shameless Bor, she is tired from the road and I think after dinner I will be more pleased to plunge into the tub with warm water, rather than while away the evening in your dull and boring society! - Claris laid siege to her husband, who managed to change one strict outfit, to another, even more unassuming, but indefatigable Boris merely winked at me conspiratorially with his left eye and began to puff again with his pipe looking into the flame of the fireplace.

For dinner, a small handful of gathered relatives huddled behind a huge and once crowded table in the candlelight. Claris, Boris, Jose and Me. Jose and I were the first, although by the evening we expected the arrival of several more relatives.

After dinner, maid Marta invited me to go to the old woman’s chambers Izergeys to greet her. Entering into a half-dark, ascetic-furnished room, I made a curtsy (as demanded by the traditions of the Family) and staying two steps from my grandmother inquired about her health. The old woman only studied me for a long time, squeezing her mouth so tightly that her lips were almost invisible, and then, without saying a word, she made a gesture that I left the room and turned to the window, showing with my air that the audience was over.

I was outraged by this attitude towards me! Of course, I can blame a lot on age and old age, but earlier at least my grandmother greeted me, but now she didn’t make a sound addressed to me, as if I’m a stranger and Arstaon's blood does not flow in my veins! The rebel in me raged and tried to break out, and only incredible effort I managed to pacify him!

I was upset and, being in some kind of distracted thoughtfulness, I pondered through the countless corridors of the ancient castle, until my legs led me into the kitchen room — the place where I ran away when I was a child, when I was sick or someone hurt me. An lamp burned in the room, old dark-skinned Lucretia sat on the couch, leaning against the wall with her heavy back and sliding her tiny glasses to her nose, reading a small black-coverted little book with a silver cross in the middle - the Bible. When she saw me, she smiled, putting the book aside, and held out her shriveled hands to me.

“Ah, sweet Annette.” Hello girl. We were waiting for you!

Martha, the personal servant of the old woman Izergeys who had fallen away for me a quarter of an hour ago, only looked unkindly at me and pursed her lips (exactly like the old woman, her mistress) put off her knitting and hurriedly left the room.

And Lucretia, it seemed, didn’t notice it all, taking my palms in her warm caring hands, she looked into my eyes and asked?

- Well, tell me the same! How are you away from home? Where did you go? Has the chosen one of her good heart? Do you remember us? Yes, I see, are you alarmed by something? ...

I was silent, with incredible effort holding back tears. I really felt so sad that my grandmother was with me so much. I just used to be strong and not show my weaknesses. But here, in this room, in which so many tears were cried in the apron of sweet Lucretia, who sometimes understood me even more than my mother; in this warm room, smelling of fresh buns and vanilla; in the room evoking childhood memories, I again wanted to be little eight-year-old Annie and having buried my cook in the white apron of our cook to allow myself to show feelings.

The old nanny (yes, yes, she is both the cook and the maid and the nanny in one person) understood everything without words.

“And let me treat you to the thistles on maple honey, this of course is not served by the gentlemen to the table, but I don’t have anything else to eat, but I see you can’t hurt a drink at all.”

Lucretia quite deftly jumped off the couch and slipped into a large earthenware jug of fragrant dull orange liquid with a frothy cap on top. Spilling the drink in glass bellied glasses, we loudly clinked dishes:

- For my favorite baby Annie! - said Lucretia and in one gulp drank the contents of her glass, rubbing the foam over the upper lip with the back of her hand.

I also took a few sips. The drink was tart, sweet and sour with aromatic notes of a summer day in a blossoming meadow and tingling lips with small bursting bubbles. After a couple of moments, the stomach was pleasantly baked, and my head was filled with hops wrapped around my girl's brain.

And at once, in the watery eyes, the lights of the lamp were slightly blurred, and all the misfortunes that had happened seemed so trivial that I immediately forgot about the old grumbling Chloe, and began incoherently, jumping from one to another, to tell Lucretia about everything that had happened to me years I did not notice how my circle was empty and filled again. A visit to a small chef kandeiki allowed me to speak out, relax, and fully realize that I was at home, at home, and nothing else!

When I realized that I had sat down, and tried to get up from a solid, but still cozy trestle bed, I realized that I had pretty much gotten the masters and my legs were not holding very firmly.

Again, Lucretia understood everything without words and prepared me fragrant fragrant tea with strawberries and birch sap. In the meantime, the tea insisted, whistled the messenger boy and whispered something in his ear. He only nodded with a grimy face, half covered with a dimensionless cap, and rushed off, flashing his bare heels.

Tea filled the body with a pleasant weight, penetrating into its farthest, most hidden and hidden corners. I did not have time to drink half a circle as my heart stopped beating, not daring to start beating again. At the door, smiling, looked at Jose! Small pieces of wood stuck in the curls of his black hair, his thick sweater smelled of fresh wood and his male heated body.

- Aunt Ann. Cousin. Come, I will accompany you to your room. Fermentation through the endless corridors of our castle is so tiring that they leave the traveler exhausted - I know from my own experience!

With him, I was ready to fly on the wings even on the highest turret of our castle. And also (and I scolded myself for the frivolity of such thoughts), I wanted him to take me to the room with my hands, I wanted to cuddle up to his muscular chest, inhale his scent and sway in his arms in time with the measured steps.

I smacked sweet Lucretia on the cheek, thanked for the warm welcome and went out almost as firmly as possible into the corridor, set aside my elbow, allowing Jose to take my arm.

Lucretia, meanwhile, handed Jose some bundle, which he quickly put in the wide pocket of the states, and gallantly took me by the hand, led me along a long, gloomy corridor.

Our footsteps echoed loudly under the arched ceiling vaults, and I, a little clever and pretending to be more drunk than I actually was, clung to Jose with my whole body. I felt my chest squeeze into the muscular arm of a young man, and terrible vicious, but unbearably desirable thoughts flashed through my head: HOW he can caress such hands, THESE hands. And from these thoughts, the tips of the ears were burning, and a small hurricane was gradually brewing in the lower abdomen, spreading farther and farther along the body pleasant warm waves. At that moment I wanted one thing, I wanted this young man, I wanted to find myself in his arms, to feel his power, his softness and firmness, his tenderness and pressure, his generosity and rapacity. At that moment I did not think that this was my cousin, my relative, for we were not relatives by blood, but only by name. Undoubtedly, it would be condemned by the Society and the Family, but on the other hand, I was not afraid to defile myself before God (whom I didn’t really believe in) and before science (which I worshiped).

We passed some rooms, some were locked for decades, the locks and hinges on them rusted beyond recognition, and we could only guess what exactly was behind them.Others were familiar to me, I hid in them, played in the period of a carefree childhood, or retired from everyone at the time of thorny youth.

Hops fun roared in my head, and the proximity of the desired ... Read more →