Free The Dark Domain by Stefan Grabinski Page B

along the rows of linden trees, which, arranged on opposite sides of the pathway, stretched in long lanes to the portal. Somewhere to the left, behind mulberry and dogwood shrubs, appeared the skeleton of an autumnal vine-covered arbor; red leaves drifted down a chaotic trellis containing already-withered ivies.
    Flower-beds held the blossoms of autumn: chrysanthemums and asters. Yellow chestnut and brick-red maple leaves drizzled with quiet sadness on paths overgrown with grass and weeds. Dahlias bled under a dried-up marble cistern; large glass containers alternated rainbow colours … . In the midst of a privet, on a stone bench covered with a carpet of conifer needles, two finches twittered a song of flight. Deep within the alleys, in the darkening sunset light, spiders spun out their silky, silver threads … .
    With both hands I pushed open the heavy front door, and after ascending some winding stairs, I found myself on the first floor. I was struck by the absence of life. The mansion looked deserted; no one met me, nowhere was there a sign of servants or any members of the household. Scattered large electric lamps illuminated, with their blindingly bright beams, empty halls and galleries.
    In the antechamber, opened hospitably for my arrival, unoccupied coat-racks presented a lonely sight. Their smooth metallic knobs glittered with the cold reflection of polished copper. I removed my coat. At that moment the sound of the city’s clocks flowed in through a large, open Gothic window: they tolled the sixth hour … .
    I knocked on the door in front of me. There was no response from within. I became anxious. What should I do? Enter without permission? Maybe, fatigued by travel, she was fast asleep?
    Suddenly the door opened, and she stood on the threshold. Her piercing, proud yet sweet eyes gazed at me from under the regal diadem of her chestnut hair. Her classical head, worthy of Poliklet’s chisel, was crowned by an emerald-inlaid tiara. A soft, snow-white peplos, flowing in harmonious waves to sixteenth-century footwear, enveloped her statuesque figure. Juno stolata !
    I bowed before her majesty. And she, withdrawing inside, let me pass with a gesture of her hand into a palatial apartment. It was a magnificent bedroom decorated exquisitely in the fashions of former times.
    In silence, she sat inside a deep niche on a giallo antico bed.
    I knelt on the carpet by her feet, laying my head on her knees. She embraced it in a warm, maternal movement and started to tenderly comb my hair with her fingers. We gazed endlessly into each other’s eyes, unable to sate ourselves with what we saw. We were silent. Thus far not one word had fallen between us – as if we feared scaring away with a reckless sound the angel of bewitchment that fettered and united our souls.
    Suddenly she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. Blood pounded in my head, the world turned round drunkenly – and my passion unleashed itself. I grabbed her roughly and, not sensing any resistance, threw her on the bed. With a quick, elusive movement, she unclasped the amber fibula on her shoulder, exposing before me her divine body. So I possessed her in boundless suffering and longing, my senses intoxicated and my heart enraptured, my soul frenzied and my blood burning.
    Hours passed with the speed of lightning, short as its flashes and potent with happiness; racing moments flew by like the winds of the steppe – moments precious like rare pearls. Wearied by pleasure, we drifted off to exquisite dreams that were like the groves of paradise, like magical fairy-tales – only to awaken to day-dreams even more wonderful, more beautiful … .
    When I finally opened my heavy eyelids near six in the morning and glanced around, fully conscious, Jadwiga was no longer at my side.
    I dressed quickly. After waiting for her in vain for an entire hour, I returned home … .
    I feel giddy, there’s fire in my veins. I must have a