fair match for mine, and her beauty grows with the wisdom she speaks."
Hamlet's eyes, blue as the sky at nightfall, met mine. I felt like a seafarer who has located the northern star and set his course from that shining point. Not until he rose and bowed did our eyes unlock.
Once Hamlet and Horatio had taken their leave, Cristiana turned on me.
"What nonsense is this about fair minds and pretty faces? And who is this lady, Diana?" she asked, as if we had spoken of someone at Elsinore.
"How can you be so ignorant?" I said, amazed. "Have you really never heard of Ovid's myth?"
"How can you be so shameless before the prince?" she shot back.
"It is no shame to speak reason, but it is to flaunt your bosom like a serving wench in an alehouse," I said, my temper rising.
Malice flashed in Cristiana's green eyes.
"You think that being witty will make the Prince of Denmark—or any man—want to marry you?"
"Ha! I have no designs upon Hamlet!" I cried. Perhaps I protested too loudly. "It is you who are baiting a trap with those two beauties you are so proud of."
"You are unkind," she said like a petulant child. "And you have stepped out of your place. Gertrude shall hear of it," she threatened.
I laughed carelessly, discounting her spite. I should have held my tongue, heeding Elnora. But humility was far from my mind, filled as it was with Hamlet's praises. My only thought was that I must find a way to see him again.
Chapter 8
I had not long to wait. That evening Gertrude sent me to gather fresh herbs in the garden. I was glad to escape Cristiana's carping and her threats. I ran down the tower stairs that turned in a spiral, emerging dizzy into the darkness. Above me, faint lights flickered in Gertrude's chambers. Though a fog had settled over the garden, I knew by heart the location of each bed and bower and could find my way in the dark. I walked secure and unafraid, knowing that the far reaches of the garden were bounded by walls. I picked sprigs of rosemary, feeling its sticky resin coat my hands. I would distill it, then steep it in cloves and other spices, making a concoction to sweeten the breath.
Detecting the scent of lavender, I knelt and let the sweet aroma tickle my nose and throat. As I crouched in the cool grass, I saw a dim and soundless shape approach. It puzzled rather than startled me as the figure emerged from the mist and took the form of Hamlet.
"How now, Ophelia," he said softly, standing before me.
I did not reply at first, for my tongue was bound by surprise. Hamlet reached for my hand and I stood up.
"Good evening, my lord," I then managed to say. "How did you see me in the dark?"
"You shine with virtue, and the light drew me like a moth to flame," he replied. A smile played around his mouth and, as if it were contagious, spread to my lips, too.
"You flatter me with a poet's praises," I said, looking sideways at him in order to hide my face. "But the simile does not suit us, for you are no moth, and I am not a fire."
"What should I say? I think you will suspect all my words," he chided gently.
"Say that you wished to see me again and watched for me, if that is the truth," I said in a rush. Startling myself with my bold speech, I withdrew my hand from his and clasped it with my other hand, thus restraining myself.
"It is true." He paused, and a long moment passed before he spoke again. "You have changed so much, Ophelia. You are not as I remembered you."
I thrilled to hear that he had thought of me while he was away.
"I feared the crows and jays who wait on my mother would have long ago pitched you from their nest, but you are safely fledged, I see," he said teasingly.
"Still I am beating my wings against the walls of my cage," I said ruefully, "for Elsinore sometimes seems a prison to me." Instantly I regretted my words, for I did not wish to seem ungrateful. "I only wish that I could freely come and go—"
I broke off, for Hamlet surprised me by brushing my cheek lightly with the back
Hamlet's eyes, blue as the sky at nightfall, met mine. I felt like a seafarer who has located the northern star and set his course from that shining point. Not until he rose and bowed did our eyes unlock.
Once Hamlet and Horatio had taken their leave, Cristiana turned on me.
"What nonsense is this about fair minds and pretty faces? And who is this lady, Diana?" she asked, as if we had spoken of someone at Elsinore.
"How can you be so ignorant?" I said, amazed. "Have you really never heard of Ovid's myth?"
"How can you be so shameless before the prince?" she shot back.
"It is no shame to speak reason, but it is to flaunt your bosom like a serving wench in an alehouse," I said, my temper rising.
Malice flashed in Cristiana's green eyes.
"You think that being witty will make the Prince of Denmark—or any man—want to marry you?"
"Ha! I have no designs upon Hamlet!" I cried. Perhaps I protested too loudly. "It is you who are baiting a trap with those two beauties you are so proud of."
"You are unkind," she said like a petulant child. "And you have stepped out of your place. Gertrude shall hear of it," she threatened.
I laughed carelessly, discounting her spite. I should have held my tongue, heeding Elnora. But humility was far from my mind, filled as it was with Hamlet's praises. My only thought was that I must find a way to see him again.
Chapter 8
I had not long to wait. That evening Gertrude sent me to gather fresh herbs in the garden. I was glad to escape Cristiana's carping and her threats. I ran down the tower stairs that turned in a spiral, emerging dizzy into the darkness. Above me, faint lights flickered in Gertrude's chambers. Though a fog had settled over the garden, I knew by heart the location of each bed and bower and could find my way in the dark. I walked secure and unafraid, knowing that the far reaches of the garden were bounded by walls. I picked sprigs of rosemary, feeling its sticky resin coat my hands. I would distill it, then steep it in cloves and other spices, making a concoction to sweeten the breath.
Detecting the scent of lavender, I knelt and let the sweet aroma tickle my nose and throat. As I crouched in the cool grass, I saw a dim and soundless shape approach. It puzzled rather than startled me as the figure emerged from the mist and took the form of Hamlet.
"How now, Ophelia," he said softly, standing before me.
I did not reply at first, for my tongue was bound by surprise. Hamlet reached for my hand and I stood up.
"Good evening, my lord," I then managed to say. "How did you see me in the dark?"
"You shine with virtue, and the light drew me like a moth to flame," he replied. A smile played around his mouth and, as if it were contagious, spread to my lips, too.
"You flatter me with a poet's praises," I said, looking sideways at him in order to hide my face. "But the simile does not suit us, for you are no moth, and I am not a fire."
"What should I say? I think you will suspect all my words," he chided gently.
"Say that you wished to see me again and watched for me, if that is the truth," I said in a rush. Startling myself with my bold speech, I withdrew my hand from his and clasped it with my other hand, thus restraining myself.
"It is true." He paused, and a long moment passed before he spoke again. "You have changed so much, Ophelia. You are not as I remembered you."
I thrilled to hear that he had thought of me while he was away.
"I feared the crows and jays who wait on my mother would have long ago pitched you from their nest, but you are safely fledged, I see," he said teasingly.
"Still I am beating my wings against the walls of my cage," I said ruefully, "for Elsinore sometimes seems a prison to me." Instantly I regretted my words, for I did not wish to seem ungrateful. "I only wish that I could freely come and go—"
I broke off, for Hamlet surprised me by brushing my cheek lightly with the back
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