Modern Romanticism

The aspect of romance, divided between the heartening and the thoughtful.

Excerpt from a Novel – The Devorah of Reims – “Gathering the Fragments of a Heart”

May 6, 2019

A man shall gather the fragments of a woman’s heart, should he have shattered that red orb of ruby. He is there to conquer the north, before the south, and to kiss, before annexing her as his own. Kiss the mouth, and breathe the trailing scent at the head, before one declines to meet the south, and kiss and breathe the strands in that direction.

Soon, when the chasing ends, Bertrand is standing in a hallway, peering at the exact thing that he was pursuing. Devorah stands, with right hand around the south, at her groin, to hide her purity, from the he who has noticed her. From the Bertrand, from the man who she knows and now has found a vocation, named the theater, where she will seduce, and seduce even more.

She stands, with the right hand in that direction, and the left hand held north-east, with the fingers curled over her left shoulder. The forearm of the left arm shields her breast, that which is covered as well by the few remaining traces of a gown. The right breast is exposed, shown in the gleam of the same sweat to this heated day.

Bertrand continues to look on, before Antoine approaches, of a sudden.

Devorah hears his pacing footsteps, becomes startled, and runs in the direction of an open door.

Antoine stands now, before Bertrand, looking over the agonized expression the face of his friend. He says nothing for the current moment, and merely sees his friend’s face with all the hideous horror that could ever be contrived on a new lover to a woman.

In Antoine’s recognition, he wonders, ‘Has Bertrand found something, or someone, that has captured him so much as to be this captivated or frozen? Is his mind gone? Is his heart stuck? Which is it?’ After which, they both hear laughter. They hearken to it, like the doe upon the nearest nearby noise that causes the animal to raise its ears in alarm. Though, this is not alarm that the two men exhibit; it is amusement. Their faces glow, as if they were small dogs who have heard the sound of a rodent squeaking in shrubbery.

They begin to look around, as if they would be those small dogs sniffing at the floor.

Soon, when the laughter comes again, they have found the spot where Devorah hid herself. She is in that room, where Bertrand seemingly forgotten she had fled towards the door that leads into it.

Within that chamber, she shows herself to them both, baring nudity of flesh and shielding it with merely the cup of her palms and the tapered fingers. Her smile is as charming as the witnesses of Heaven, when before the open wings of the angel Gabriel; for she sees them with only seduction to her heart. She wishes for them both to draw her close to embrace her. She has no intention, it seems, by the devilish grin and the perky lips that are stuck outwards to embrace a mere one.

Her eyes show no dark of fear, and only the sight of music of play is resounded once more in her laughter; that laughter, which is akin to the harlot’s taint, that has wetted her hair and made a sheen on a chest. Devorah shows the plumpness to a breast and the chin that has doused itself, somewhat, in the red hue of blush, being the cosmetic named rouge. Beauty is absent, and now all that Bertrand desires is that same embrace, though not for the protection of his beloved, but for the strangulation of her.

Rage now consumes him, as he calls out to her, “By what change in your heart has this occurred in you? Why is it that you love me for a month, and only seek to doom me at this moment? Is there only deceit that clings onto your veins?”

She says, with the tinges of insanity mixed the same level of seduction, “You are but a mouse that has been caught by a small kitten.” Her gaze hovers from Bertrand, to Antoine, while her head slowly tilts itself, and shadow etches into the creases of her skin, created from such a movement. In the next moment, her words flow out as, “Allow your friend to come forth, and take me upon that table.” And she points in the direction of that table.

At last, she says, “I wish for you, Bertrand, to watch.”

He recoils.

Bertrand has recoiled from her words, and nearly swoons, before he takes a hold of his chest with a hand, and stoops over with feeble legs.

Though, Antoine does not obey. In fact, he chooses to move in the direction opposite to where Devorah had pointed, and that is, the wall. He chooses to face the wall, and not motion himself at her command.


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