***
Today you are beautiful and I am too ugly.
I am afraid that I will destroy you.
* * *
– Madeline, 25 years old. (The past)
She ran away.
Yes, Madeline ran away. From the mansion, from the Nottingham estate. She was fully prepared with clothes, money, and necessities of life in her bag.
The reason for running away from home was simple, outrageous, and messy. She wanted to see a movie. She wanted to see the American movie, Charlie Chaplin. She wanted to hide among anonymous people.
If she asked the Count, he might allow her to do so. But she was fed up with the fact that she had to look him in the face. She wanted to be free.
Madeline was obsessed with the idea that Ian Nottingham was holding her back.
She left the mansion, leaving behind word that she was going on a tour of the city. The car she had arranged ahead of time cooly sped down the road. The driver glanced at Madeline in the passenger seat. She did not like the way he looked at her, but there were not many people who would come to the estate, so she had no choice.
The breeze was cool as it grazed her ears. The speed of the automobile was the speed of freedom. The distance she was away from the mansion was the distance she felt her freedom.
“You look happy.”
“…….”
If it weren’t for the driver who talked to her in vain the whole time, her mood would have been even more exhilarating.
When she got to London, she planned to go to the cinema, to the department stores, to the museums, to the Houses of Parliament, to the library…. She wanted to stay in the most glamorous hotels, the poorest hotels, and meet all kinds of people.
It was clear that if she asked the Count to go to London, she would not be able to enjoy the freedom of travel. He must surely have assigned many servants and frequently monitored and interfered with her.
Madeline didn’t like that. As if he saw her as a sugar candy that could disappear at any moment…. She was frustrated for no reason.
Madeline thought that what she did was not really ‘running away’.
It would be closer to ‘going out’ than that. Well, yes, of course.
It had been a long time since she had been in London.
As soon as she got off at the train station, she must transfer to the train to Kings Cross.
The value of freedom was the value of the train ticket. When she arrived in London, she thought about cutting her hair pretty and short like a flapper. Her heart swelled full of confidence.
She felt even better to think that the mansion would be in great trouble by now. Would the Count have already received the report that Madeline went missing?
‘He can’t follow me with his body like that anyway.’
A bad thought jumped out at her. It was despicable to use another person’s deficiencies as a weapon of accusation. But she wanted to use it to condemn everything about the man. His emotional scars, even his physical scars.
She refused to consider the fact that she had hit rock bottom.
Of course, there was no guarantee that the Count would let her go. The Count just sat there but saw through it all. News from London, New York, and Paris arrived at his desk by telegram. His one word became an electric signal that crossed the distant Atlantic, and astronomical sums of money came and went.
He would not look for one foolish woman in London.
But she did not want to be pessimistic. It wasn’t like starting a new life, but just bothering one man accomplished her purpose.
The speed of the train was the speed of freedom.
Madeline hummed an unidentifiable song.
* * *
As soon as she arrived in London, Madeleine Nottingham’s eyes went wide. It had been a few years since she stayed in the mansion, but there was no gloomy atmosphere right after the end of the war. The crowd in the city was full of excitement.
Of course, all over the city she saw wounded soldiers begging with melancholy expressions on their faces. Whenever Madeline saw them, she took money out of her pocket.
A few signs with art decorations were visible, as well as the occasional places where women and men gathered together to drink coffee. Before the war it was difficult for women to go in and out of cafes, but once again a lot had changed.
‘I have to start with checking into a hotel.’
She was busy looking at the neon sign and nearly got run over by a passing car. Madeline didn’t want to look like a country bumpkin, so she hurriedly fixed her eyes on the walk.
The hotel she had chosen was neither too expensive nor cheap. If she chose too upscale a place, she might meet the Count’s acquaintances, and a cheap place she wasn’t ready to adapt to yet.
She arrived at the hotel room and unpacked her luggage. It was not a big deal to see a woman traveling alone. Indeed, these days it was hard to say anything about women having a profession and living alone.
In comparison, how uptight were they before the war? Of course, the war did not make everything better, but she enjoyed the liberating feeling to the fullest.
After unpacking, she lay in bed. Madeline finally felt it all.
“I escaped.”
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She felt as empty as a hole in her lungs. It took her three years to run away. It was a long time, and a short time.
She was even a little scared when she thought of the Count who would become angry when he heard the news of her running away from home. And then, something happened…
Something like “guilt,” was creeping up her spine.
‘Guilt? Me?’
Hmph. Madeline snickered. She would be lying if she didn’t say she felt sorry for the Count, but that was just cheap sympathy, a feeling that was nothing more than deception.
She thought of the Count’s mother, the previous Countess. She had a kind and sad face. She recited as if in confession as she seized Madeline’s hand.
“He* no longer believes in God.” (*Ian)
Had he lost only his faith? The man never spoke out about the hellscape he had experienced, but one thing was certain. The man thought there was no prosperity for mankind, no purpose. To him, this world was a meaningless speck of dust itself.
”I’m about as much of a dust doll to him as he is to me, aren’t I?”
There was no way to know the Count’s heart. Madeline would rather have seen the Count blush in her presence. For there would be no fact so terrible as that she might be important to him.
…Madeline did not want to think against herself who wanted to turn her back on that fact to the end.
She had to fight the feeling of wandering in an endless whirlpool until sleep overtook her.
* * *
“We have no other language in which to express ourselves but that Every meeting between two creatures in this world is a mutual rending. Come with me, for I have knowledge of such pain, and you’ll be safer with me than with anyone else.”
The Cloven Viscount (Italian: Il visconte dimezzato) is a fantasy novel by Italian writer Italo Calvino.
* * *
Madeline stood in front of the theater and looked at the posters. There was a large poster of a movie that had been shown in the United States. A man with a mustache, a sad face, and an exaggerated expression on his face.
“Charlie Chaplin…”
Madeline read the poster.
“The Kid.”
It seemed to be somewhat of a sad movie. But it looked spectacular. Madeline hesitated for a while and bought one ticket. Here and there, lovers and families took their seats in the movie theater.
Madeline followed them and sat down. The light in the theater went out.
While watching the movie, Madeline had the illusion that she was dreaming. A dream about someone who was not herself. It was a very strange feeling.
If Madeline said she wanted to see a movie, the Count would have built a movie theater for her. He would have bought a projector and film and built a stage just for her. Because he would have done anything materialistic for Madeline.
Madeline laughed then began to cry. She did not understand. Why was she so sad?
Perhaps it was because she herself was more fragile than a phantom on the silver screen.
Ghosts, figures from the past.
They were beings that disappeared without a trace when the curtain closed.
Back at the hotel, the manager gave Madeline a small telegram message.
{ I will be waiting for you at London Station. }
* * *
– Madeline, 26 years old. (The past)
It was a long night, punctuated by nightmares. Rats the size of a man’s arm seen in the trenches. His rotting legs and other parts of himself were woven into a wiggly patchwork.
When the man woke up after a hard death struggle, the first sight he saw was his wife sitting by the bed, dozing off. Her warmly tinted blonde hair was disheveled here and there, and the gown over her slip fell over her shoulders.
The soft curves of her body were visible through the gown.
A sharp forehead and plump lips, eyes that seemed to contemplate even when closed. Peach-colored cheeks. His wife, as if made of honey and gold. Her usual cold and indifferent appearance was filled with tenderness.
The man was amazed at the fact that he was alive. That did not mean that this was heaven. Didn’t he commit too many sins to go there?
After looking at the woman for a while, Ian realized that he was holding her hand. As soon as he became aware of her soft and warm hand, his hand was hot as if it had been burned by fire.
He groaned and sat up. Warm sunlight shone through the window onto the back of her head.
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He thought. ‘I think it’s okay to enjoy this peace for just a moment.’
Judgment will come anyway. So, until the woman wakes up….