Je T'aime.

XXXI. What The Future Holds

I kept Isabella's daisy between a folded piece of wax paper, pressed flat between the pages of my book of Sappho's poems. It seemed only appropriate. And it seemed unreal that what we did that night had actually happened, and was not a part of some vision of sleep- not a dream or a nightmare. While part of my mind lifted with ecstasy at the thought of her and floated on clouds of love, another side sat in a dark corner, contemplating the lustful sin that had overtaken me. So much sin. I had loved a woman. I had loved a woman in a church. I had loved a woman who was already married. I had loved a woman who was married to my brother. I had loved my brother's wife while I was engaged. I had loved my brother's wife while my fiance was off at war. The sins just piled and piled, like the crushing weight of a hundred bricks. But why did sin feel so good? Why did Satan taunt me like this? Had I let Father Lachner down? Had I let God down? Had I let little Christina, a young girl in Bible study, down? Had I let my mother down?

In times like these I would go to the church and beg for forgiveness, striving to save my soul from damnation. But I knew if I went there and I looked upon that altar I could only see her seated there, and I could only feel her neck on my lips and her leg around my waist. That place was no longer a temple of God. If you took me to church, I could only worship a shrine to her on a pile of lies. Lies that the church told me, lies that I told others, and the lies that I told to myself.

Now that I knew how sweetly the sin tasted, there was no way that the Catholic faith could ever rope me back in. Every Sunday at Mass, as I stood with the Holy Roman Empress, I could only falsely pray in the name of a foreigner's god. Never again for me. Now I was tied to her more than I had ever been tied to God. The church put a lock and key on me, to reserve me for my husband some day. They told me that my purity was my best asset. But my purity was not ripped from me last night. There was nothing lost and nothing broken. It was sweet, it was loving, it was beautiful. Why had they taught me to be so afraid of pure love?

While I was contemplating every event in my life so far, Pia was dressing me. "You were out late last night."

I snapped back into reality. "What?"

Pia repeated, "You were out late last night."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "The opera was wonderful."

Pia tightened my stays. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

There was a knock at the door, and Pia went to answer it. She thanked the person and closed the door. I saw that she had a letter in her hand. "Who's it from?"

Pia gave me an irritated look. "The name starts with a C, but other than that, I can't read it."

I took the letter from her. My heart dropped as soon as I read the name. "Captain Albert Casimir of Saxony," I tore open the letter. "Please please please be okay."

Dear Christina,

I hope that all is well back in Vienna. I assume that your greatest news all week will be to hear that I am healthy and alive! The Regiment and I have marched to the border of Prussia and Saxony ,and we have secured a fortification along the river. I can see the outline of the city from here. Under the protection of heavy cavalry, I was able to meet with my brother and his wife. They are well. My brother's wife is heavily pregnant and looked near ready to pop when I saw her. By the time this letter gets to you, the baby will most likely already be here. I wished greatly to see my father, but he is stuck in Poland due to the war. I met with my youngest sister Kunigunde and nearly cried when I first saw her. She is the spitting image of my mother.

We have not seen much military action besides a few skirmishes, but our men are trained and well prepared. For now, we have plenty of supplies to keep the army ready for action. We drill every morning. It has been bitterly cold recently and miserable in some circumstances, but my fellow advanced officers and I have been lucky enough to use a small farmhouse as a headquarters. I have made a few friends within our officer corps, as well as others from the outside. But some that I have never made friends with are those Prussians- and they are even uglier in person than I could have ever imagined! And their accents, by God! They sound as if they speak while gargling water! They don't even sound like they're speaking German! It's utterly hilarious and sometimes I have to hold back my laughter in important meetings. If you ever have the utter misfortune to meet a Prussian, be sure to listen to what they are saying or you won't understand a word that comes out of their mouths!