began
again. “I am merely jesting with you.” She turned Selric to face her, taking
both his hands in hers. “Selric, I know that you are not ready to marry. And
even when you are, it probably will not be me who you want to wed, though I
admit I have often wondered why.”
“That’s not true,” he insisted, lifting
her hands to his lips, his eyes sad and lying.
“What is not?” she followed.
“That it won’t be you...necessarily. But
no, I am not ready. I’m sorry. That much is true.”
“Do not be sorry,” Angelique scoffed with
a giggle. “You must do what is best for you. What if I said that I would do
what you wanted, to show you how I felt about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“To be frank, I have heard about your
reputation. It is not ladylike or proper to listen to gossip, I know, but I am
pretty sure that this is true. Is it not?” Angelique smiled, cocking her head
at a confirmatory angle.
“I would never want that,” Selric said.
“What am I saying?” he thought to himself, “that’s all I’ve wanted from her
since we were twelve.” But at that moment, he did not want to lie with her in
love, not when she offered in that way; that unselfish, self-sacrificial way.
“I know. You are a gentleman. But I
wanted you to know that I think I could really come to love you...as a
husband. I already do as a friend.”
“But we’re so different. You really need
someone who’s at home at these functions. I’m uncomfortable,” he said, looking
around, as if waiting for someone to pounce on him. “You’re at home, you
shine. You’re patient. I lose control with the pomposity and the
condescending tone whenever the ‘commoners’ are mentioned. You wouldn’t like,
or fit in at, the places in which I am comfortable. Take the Dragon’s
Jaw ...”
Angelique gasped. “You go there?” she
asked, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar in an innocent and sweet manner of
shock. “I have heard that people have been killed there...and...and that they
have prostitutes...and...and that it is dirty...” She looked aghast, losing
her tongue and ability to go on speaking.
“But it isn’t, you see. It’s all right
when you’ve been there a few times.”
“Then I could go?”
“No...no,” Selric stuttered quickly.
“It’s not a nice place. It’s not a tea party or something like that.
It’s only okay if you can handle yourself...and if you fit in. You wouldn’t.
You’re...well, too sweet. They’d be jealous or hate you because you’re noble
or something. I can’t explain, but it’s the truth. I’m not trying to
discourage you, honestly I’m not.” Selric looked at Angelique pleadingly,
wishing he could find the exact words to make his pain clear. Normally
well-spoken—more glib the less important the topic—Selric now could not form
sentences to explain what his heart yearned to share with explicit clarity.
“It is all right, I believe you. I know
what they can be like.”
“See? You’re doing it now. You’re being
snobby. What do you mean they ? On the whole, the rabble is no worse
than the snobs. Each group just does things in its own way. Neither is
superior, but they undoubtedly cannot get along with one another. And I feel
better with them .”
“Yet you said they would hate me for
being noble. So are they not as prejudiced as I?”
“I guess you are right,” he said softly.
“So what are you saying?” she asked as if
mildly frustrated; betrayed.
“I don’t know,” Selric said dejectedly.
“Just that people should be judged individually,
again. “I am merely jesting with you.” She turned Selric to face her, taking
both his hands in hers. “Selric, I know that you are not ready to marry. And
even when you are, it probably will not be me who you want to wed, though I
admit I have often wondered why.”
“That’s not true,” he insisted, lifting
her hands to his lips, his eyes sad and lying.
“What is not?” she followed.
“That it won’t be you...necessarily. But
no, I am not ready. I’m sorry. That much is true.”
“Do not be sorry,” Angelique scoffed with
a giggle. “You must do what is best for you. What if I said that I would do
what you wanted, to show you how I felt about you?”
“What do you mean?”
“To be frank, I have heard about your
reputation. It is not ladylike or proper to listen to gossip, I know, but I am
pretty sure that this is true. Is it not?” Angelique smiled, cocking her head
at a confirmatory angle.
“I would never want that,” Selric said.
“What am I saying?” he thought to himself, “that’s all I’ve wanted from her
since we were twelve.” But at that moment, he did not want to lie with her in
love, not when she offered in that way; that unselfish, self-sacrificial way.
“I know. You are a gentleman. But I
wanted you to know that I think I could really come to love you...as a
husband. I already do as a friend.”
“But we’re so different. You really need
someone who’s at home at these functions. I’m uncomfortable,” he said, looking
around, as if waiting for someone to pounce on him. “You’re at home, you
shine. You’re patient. I lose control with the pomposity and the
condescending tone whenever the ‘commoners’ are mentioned. You wouldn’t like,
or fit in at, the places in which I am comfortable. Take the Dragon’s
Jaw ...”
Angelique gasped. “You go there?” she
asked, her eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar in an innocent and sweet manner of
shock. “I have heard that people have been killed there...and...and that they
have prostitutes...and...and that it is dirty...” She looked aghast, losing
her tongue and ability to go on speaking.
“But it isn’t, you see. It’s all right
when you’ve been there a few times.”
“Then I could go?”
“No...no,” Selric stuttered quickly.
“It’s not a nice place. It’s not a tea party or something like that.
It’s only okay if you can handle yourself...and if you fit in. You wouldn’t.
You’re...well, too sweet. They’d be jealous or hate you because you’re noble
or something. I can’t explain, but it’s the truth. I’m not trying to
discourage you, honestly I’m not.” Selric looked at Angelique pleadingly,
wishing he could find the exact words to make his pain clear. Normally
well-spoken—more glib the less important the topic—Selric now could not form
sentences to explain what his heart yearned to share with explicit clarity.
“It is all right, I believe you. I know
what they can be like.”
“See? You’re doing it now. You’re being
snobby. What do you mean they ? On the whole, the rabble is no worse
than the snobs. Each group just does things in its own way. Neither is
superior, but they undoubtedly cannot get along with one another. And I feel
better with them .”
“Yet you said they would hate me for
being noble. So are they not as prejudiced as I?”
“I guess you are right,” he said softly.
“So what are you saying?” she asked as if
mildly frustrated; betrayed.
“I don’t know,” Selric said dejectedly.
“Just that people should be judged individually,
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