The Automaton

The Automaton ~ David Wheldon ~ 6/11/2011
They were not alone, though: with them was a man in black from the Holy Office, and
his two helmeted enforcers with their pikes. Rochus? He was taken away and was
never seen again. So. I’ll see you tomorrow, Madame. Better times may come. Get
some sleep. Don’t be distressed. What’s the use of a distress that no-one else ever
sees? Goodnight.’
The impresario turned off the gas and left, locking the door. I heard his retreating
footsteps in the echoing corridor.
I turned the gas on again, and sat opposite the Automaton. She lifted her right
hand and held mine with a firm intensity, even passion. I felt the warm pressure of her
long, thoughtful fingers. I looked at her face; I could see the glow of the gas-mantles in
the highlights of her eyes. Unthinkingly — unable to restrain myself — I leaned over
the desk, and put an arm about her slim shoulders to offer her all the comfort that I
could.
Her mouth opened slightly; she gave a long sigh as she often did before making a
chess move; then she began to sob — not on account of her own uncertain
predicament, but selflessly on account of mine, and, it has to be said, the general
human circumstance — which she now seemed timelessly to understand — and huge,
clear tears gathered in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
THE END
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