of his hand.
"Will the bird be still if I come into her cage? Will she be content to stay?" he asked. His voice held a tender note that made my throat tighten.
What could I say to such a request? Unable to speak, I simply nodded. Hamlet took my hand again and put it to his lips. I could not help but look up into his face. When his eyes met mine again, I felt the truth of what the philosophers say, that love enters through the eyes and strikes the soul. Cupid's dart had struck me, kindling a flame in my heart and all my parts.
"I wished for you to come here," I whispered.
"I wanted to see you," he confessed.
Suddenly I was afraid of the fire as it burned within me, building a heat that spread to my face.
"This is too dangerous," I said, even as I swayed nearer to him. "You know that nothing goes unseen. Do I hear footsteps? I must go now." The words fell fast from my lips.
"No, stay," he pleaded as I began to pull away. "There is nothing to fear." I relented and let him take my arm, finding pleasure in the pressure of his hand.
"Come into the moonlight, for I wish only to behold your beauty and your wit, which you possess in such abundance, it stops my heart."
"Again you jest!" I laughed. "Your heart is not stopped, or you would be dead."
"Ophelia, you are a natural philosopher! If I admit that my heart still beats, will you allow me to admire your beauty?"
"I know your thoughts on beauty. I must look to my honor," I said. Yet I spoke lightly, and I let him keep my hand in his.
"Ophelia, you do not know me yet. Do not think that I argued my true beliefs today. To the world I wear a mask that hides my truer self, which you now see."
I scanned his face longingly but could not understand his meaning.
"I see nothing in this darkness. Alas, Lord Hamlet, I hardly know you, nor do I know myself. Good night." I turned and walked quickly away from him, startling a rabbit that fled before me like my own leaping heart.
I did not sleep that night, but lay awake rebuking myself for running away in fear. I rehearsed every word that had passed between us for its true meaning, but found no certainty. Had I seen Hamlet's real self or did he wear a mask? Did he truly think me beautiful?
In the morning I arose from my bed intent on revisiting the scene of our meeting. All day I was useless and distracted. So I offered to fetch fresh lavender to strew in Gertrude's bedchamber, and that night I knelt again on the ground, gathering the silvery, purple-tipped fronds of lavender into my arms. I breathed their scent to calm my roiled thoughts, even while I prayed for Hamlet to appear. And so he did, the insubstantial presence in the fog once again becoming the solid figure of Hamlet.
"We meet again, Ophelia," he said, touching my hand.
"I wished for you to come," I replied.
"And thinking made it so. Here I am."
As he spoke, he led me to the shelter of the tall hedges bordering the garden labyrinth I had often seen from my window. It was a secret place I had never dared to enter, fearing I might get lost. Now a sudden impulse seized me.
"Follow me, if you can!" I whispered, then turned and disappeared into the maze. I felt my way, dropping the lavender as I ran. I turned left, then right, again and again. I found myself at the center of the maze, with nowhere else to run. Gasping for breath, I listened to the rushing of blood in my ears. When Hamlet appeared, carrying the herbs I had dropped, I uttered a small cry, like a child delighted to be found.
"Why did you run from me again?" he asked.
"I don't know. I used to run for the joy of it, when I was little."
Hamlet nodded as if he remembered. He rubbed a stalk of lavender between his fingers, releasing its sweet aroma, and traced the outline of my forehead and nose with it. I smiled in response.
"You amaze me, Ophelia," he said.
"I did lead you into this maze, that is true. And now I am lost here."
I could just see the edges of Hamlet's hair, lit by the moon. His teeth shone
"Will the bird be still if I come into her cage? Will she be content to stay?" he asked. His voice held a tender note that made my throat tighten.
What could I say to such a request? Unable to speak, I simply nodded. Hamlet took my hand again and put it to his lips. I could not help but look up into his face. When his eyes met mine again, I felt the truth of what the philosophers say, that love enters through the eyes and strikes the soul. Cupid's dart had struck me, kindling a flame in my heart and all my parts.
"I wished for you to come here," I whispered.
"I wanted to see you," he confessed.
Suddenly I was afraid of the fire as it burned within me, building a heat that spread to my face.
"This is too dangerous," I said, even as I swayed nearer to him. "You know that nothing goes unseen. Do I hear footsteps? I must go now." The words fell fast from my lips.
"No, stay," he pleaded as I began to pull away. "There is nothing to fear." I relented and let him take my arm, finding pleasure in the pressure of his hand.
"Come into the moonlight, for I wish only to behold your beauty and your wit, which you possess in such abundance, it stops my heart."
"Again you jest!" I laughed. "Your heart is not stopped, or you would be dead."
"Ophelia, you are a natural philosopher! If I admit that my heart still beats, will you allow me to admire your beauty?"
"I know your thoughts on beauty. I must look to my honor," I said. Yet I spoke lightly, and I let him keep my hand in his.
"Ophelia, you do not know me yet. Do not think that I argued my true beliefs today. To the world I wear a mask that hides my truer self, which you now see."
I scanned his face longingly but could not understand his meaning.
"I see nothing in this darkness. Alas, Lord Hamlet, I hardly know you, nor do I know myself. Good night." I turned and walked quickly away from him, startling a rabbit that fled before me like my own leaping heart.
I did not sleep that night, but lay awake rebuking myself for running away in fear. I rehearsed every word that had passed between us for its true meaning, but found no certainty. Had I seen Hamlet's real self or did he wear a mask? Did he truly think me beautiful?
In the morning I arose from my bed intent on revisiting the scene of our meeting. All day I was useless and distracted. So I offered to fetch fresh lavender to strew in Gertrude's bedchamber, and that night I knelt again on the ground, gathering the silvery, purple-tipped fronds of lavender into my arms. I breathed their scent to calm my roiled thoughts, even while I prayed for Hamlet to appear. And so he did, the insubstantial presence in the fog once again becoming the solid figure of Hamlet.
"We meet again, Ophelia," he said, touching my hand.
"I wished for you to come," I replied.
"And thinking made it so. Here I am."
As he spoke, he led me to the shelter of the tall hedges bordering the garden labyrinth I had often seen from my window. It was a secret place I had never dared to enter, fearing I might get lost. Now a sudden impulse seized me.
"Follow me, if you can!" I whispered, then turned and disappeared into the maze. I felt my way, dropping the lavender as I ran. I turned left, then right, again and again. I found myself at the center of the maze, with nowhere else to run. Gasping for breath, I listened to the rushing of blood in my ears. When Hamlet appeared, carrying the herbs I had dropped, I uttered a small cry, like a child delighted to be found.
"Why did you run from me again?" he asked.
"I don't know. I used to run for the joy of it, when I was little."
Hamlet nodded as if he remembered. He rubbed a stalk of lavender between his fingers, releasing its sweet aroma, and traced the outline of my forehead and nose with it. I smiled in response.
"You amaze me, Ophelia," he said.
"I did lead you into this maze, that is true. And now I am lost here."
I could just see the edges of Hamlet's hair, lit by the moon. His teeth shone
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