âHave you?â
âTwo or three times,â Merle said. âIâve pushed my
face in as far as possible. The frame is pretty narrow, but it worked. My eyes were
underwater.â
âAnd?â
âNothing. Just darkness.â
âYou couldnât see anything at all?â
âI just said that.â
Thoughtfully Junipa ran her fingers through her hair. âIf you want,
Iâll try it.â
Merle, who was just about to yawn, snapped her mouth shut again.
âYou?â
âWith the mirror eyes I can see in the dark.â
Merle raised her eyebrows. âYou didnât tell me about that at
all.â She hastily considered whether sheâd done anything at night to be
ashamed of.
âIt just began three days ago. But now itâs getting stronger
from night to night. I see the same as by daylight. Sometimes I canât sleep
because the brightness even penetrates my eyelids. Then everything gets red, as if you
were looking at the bright sun with your eyes closed.â
âYou have to talk with Arcimboldo about that.â
Junipa looked unhappy. âAnd what if he takes the mirrors away from
me?â
âHe would never do that.â Concerned, Merle tried to imagine
what it would be like to be surrounded by lightday and night. What
if it got worse? Could Junipa sleep at all then?
âSo,â Junipa quickly changed the subject, âhow about it?
Shall I try it?â
Merle pulled the hand mirror out from under the covers, weighed it in her
hand for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. âWhy not?â
Junipa climbed up beside her on the bed. They sat opposite each other,
cross-legged. Their nightshirts stretched across their knees and both were still
tousle-headed from sleep.
âLet me try it first,â Merle said.
Junipa watched as Merle brought the mirror right up to her eyes. Carefully
she dipped her nose in, thenâas far as possibleâthe rest of her face. Soon
the frame was pressed against her cheekbones. She could go no deeper.
Merle opened her eyes underwater. She knew what to expect, so she
wasnât disappointed. It was the same as always. Nothing but darkness.
She removed the mirror from her face. The water remained trapped in the
frame, not the finest trace of dampness gleaming on her skin.
âAnd?â Junipa asked excitedly.
âNothing at all.â Merle handed her the mirror. âAs
usual.â
Junipa gripped the handle in her narrow hand. Shelooked at the reflecting surface and studied her new eyes. âDo you really
think theyâre pretty?â she asked suddenly.
Merle hesitated. âUnusual.â
âThatâs no answer to my question.â
âIâm sorry.â Merle wished that Junipa had spared herself
the truth. âSometimes I get goose bumps when I look at you. Not because your eyes
are ugly,â she added quickly. âThey are just so . . .
so . . .â
âThey feel cold,â said Junipa softly, as if she were deep in
thought. âSometimes I feel cold, even when the sun is shining.â
Brightness at night, cold in the sunshine.
âDo you really want to do it?â Merle asked. She remembered how
reluctant Junipa had been to put her hand in the mirror; how the water had felt ice-cold
to her.
âReally, I donât want to, I know that already,â Junipa
said. âBut if you say so, Iâll try it for you.â She looked at Merle.
âWouldnât you like to know whatâs back there, where the hand comes
from?â
Merle only nodded mutely.
Junipa pushed the mirror up to her face and dipped it in. Her head was
smaller than Merleâsâas all of her was more petite, slender,
vulnerableâand so it vanished up to the temples in the water.
Merle waited. She observed Junipaâs thin body under the
much-too-large nightshirt, the way