The Black Swan

I often look back on the two weeks spent in Amalfi. In spite of everything it was a wonderful honeymoon. It was an excellent choice. There can be few more beautiful spots in the world. It was warm without being too hot; we stayed in a charming hotel near the Cathedral and from the balcony of our room we looked out on the bluest of seas.

Everyone seemed friendly and glad to see us. We went for long walks and reveled in those magnificent views of high precipices and little white houses on the hillside. We would sit for hours talking idly... just being happy. I had not felt such peace since my father’s death.

I felt I could not be grateful enough to Roland for what he had done for me. He was very moved when I told him how I felt. He took my hand and kissed it. “I have never known such happiness,” he said. “Thank you, Lucie.”

“I have a feeling now,” I replied, “that everything is going to change for me. I am going to be happy. I really believed that I never could be again. It was terrible, Roland. My father was so important to me... and to have him taken away like that. If he had been ill ... if I had been prepared... perhaps ... I don’t know. But to go like that. And then the trial ...”

He put his hand over mine. “Don’t think of it. It’s over, Lucie.”

“It must be. But I can’t stop thinking of it. You see, it was my evidence. That man ...”

“He died,” said Roland in a quiet voice.

“He had killed my father. What could he expect?”

Roland did not answer. He was staring out at the blue sea with a strange expression on his face. Then he turned to me, smiling. He kissed me... lightly at first then with passion.

“Roland,” I said in surprise.

“Dear Lucie,” he replied. “Please don’t worry.” Then he added slowly, and there was a note of something I did not understand in his voice, “What has to be has to be.” We sat for a long time looking over the sea.

I loved exploring the town. There was so much of interest to see; both Roland and I were enthralled by the past and loved to make discoveries. Amalfi had been just a name to us before. Now we learned that the little town had become quite important in the sixth century under the Byzantines, and later it was one of the first maritime republics in Italy.

I loved to visit the Cathedral of St. Andrea with its beautiful bronze doors which, we learned, had been standing there since the eleventh century; then there was the campanile and the cloister near the Cathedral. There was so much to see and how I loved to linger in those little streets and to sit under a blue and white sunshade drinking wine or coffee.

We talked about most of the places we had seen and made plans to see more. Roland said as we were nearing the end of our stay that we should visit Naples. We spent a few days there and each morning would look out over the bay at the menacing peak of Vesuvius. We spent an exciting day at Pompeii. It was exhilarating and at the same time sobering to pick one’s way over those excavated ruins of what had once been a great city until the molten ash from the giant volcano had destroyed it. It brought home to me how precarious life was and how in one day death and disaster could change the whole course of a life.

Roland said, “I think Pompeii, while it interested you, saddened you a little.”

“How could anyone look at such destruction and not be saddened?” I asked. “How could one walk over those cobbles which had once been streets, and not think of that terrible day when disaster struck?”

He knew, of course, that I was thinking of another disaster which had struck, perhaps even more suddenly.

We were a little somber that evening when we returned to Naples; and I could not forget while we stayed in that town, for everywhere I looked I felt the scene to be overshadowed by the looming, menacing volcano.

We went back to Amalfi-beautiful, peaceful Amalfi; and there we spent the last few days of our honeymoon.

Fire!

I had become a different person. I was no longer an ignorant girl. I was a woman. I was seeing things differently. Roland and I were lovers; and love, people say, and I suppose they are right, is the most wonderful thing in the world. I felt that I was no longer alone. My husband was closer to me than anyone had ever been before... even my father, Joel and Rebecca. This was a relationship of greater intimacy; and I felt more at peace than I had felt would be possible since my father’s death. Roland had given me all this and there was nothing I needed more.

I tried to explain this to him and he was very moved.