Free Her Lover by Albert Cohen

eyelashes. Say I am mad, but believe me. A flutter of lashes, and she looked at me but did not see me, and suddenly I beheld the glory of spring and the sun and the warm sea and the transparency of water near the shore and my youth restored and the world fresh-minted, and I knew that no one before her, not Adrienne nor Aude nor Isolde nor any who peopled my splendour and youth, I knew that they had merely prepared a way for her and were her handmaidens. No one came before her nor will come after her, I swear it on the Scrolls of the Holy Law when in solemn state they pass before me in the synagogue, arrayed in gold and velvet, the Holy Commandments of the God in whom I do not believe but revere, for I am absurdly proud of my God, God of Abraham and of Isaac, God of Jacob, and I thrill to my very core when I hear His name and His words.
    'But now listen and you shall hear a marvel. Wearying of the ignoble crowd, she fled the room and the chatter of the seekers of contacts and sought voluntary exile in a small adjoining antechamber which was deserted. Who is She? Why, you! A voluntary exile like myself, and she did not know that I was behind the curtains watching her. Then, and listen well now, she went up to the mirror that hung in that antechamber, for she has a mania for looking-glasses as I do, it is the mania of sad and lonely people, and, alone and unaware that she was observed, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the glass of the mirror. Our first kiss, my love. O my mad sister, loved at first sight, transformed into my beloved by that kiss administered by herself unto herself. Oh how tall and slender. Oh those long curved lashes in the mirror! and my soul flew out and clung to her long curved lashes. A flutter of eyes, the space of a kiss in a mirror, and she was revealed for ever. Say I am mad, but believe me. And that was all. When she had returned to the crowded room, I did not approach her, I did not speak to her, I did not wish to treat her like the others.
    'Now hear another of her splendours. Late one afternoon, weeks later, I followed her along the shore of the lake. I saw her pause and talk to an old horse harnessed to a cart. She talked to it earnestly, considerately, my mad mistress, as though to a kindly uncle, and the old horse nodded its head sagely. Then it started to rain. She rummaged in the back of the cart and produced a canvas sheet which she threw over the old horse with such gestures, the gestures of a young mother. And then, listen carefully, she kissed the old horse on the neck and said, must have said, for I know her, my brilliant, crazy love, she must have said, indeed said that she was sorry but she had to go because she was expected back at home. But don't fret, she must have said, she said, your master will come soon and you'll soon be out of the rain in a lovely warm stable. Goodbye, darling, she must have said, she said, for I know her. And she walked away with pity in her heart, pity for that poor docile old creature which did what it was bid without protest, went where its master ordered and would even go to Spain if its master so commanded. Goodbye, darling, she said, for I know her.
    'Day after day from that evening decreed by Destiny forth, such longing for her. Oh She of All Charms. How tall and slender and marvellous of face. Oh eyes of gold-flecked mist, eyes set too far apart, those thoughtful corners of her mouth and her lips heavy with pity and intelligence, oh She whom I love. The way she smiled, like a retarded little girl, when I hid behind the curtains of her bedroom and observed her and came to know her secret follies, a Himalayan mountain-climber wearing a tam with a cock's feather in it, queen of beasts which she took out of a cardboard box, revelling in her absurdities as I did, O my clever one, my sister, intended by fate to be mine alone, meant for me, blessed be your mother, your beauty unmans me. Oh the tender madness and terrifying joy when you look at me, the