Short Fiction · Albergo Empedocle (2/4) (2/2)

“I keep saying I don’t know any more. It is fine to remember that you’ve been better than you are. You know, Mildred, I’m much more worth you than I’ve ever been before. I do believe I am fairly great.”

“Oh!” said Mildred, who was getting bored.

They had reached the temple of Concord, and he retrieved his tactlessness by saying, “After all I’m too happy to go back yet. I love you too much. Let’s rest again.”

They sat down on the temple steps, and at the end of ten minutes Mildred had forgotten all her little disappointments, and only remembered this mysterious sleep, and his marvellous awakening. Then, at the very height of her content, she felt, deep down within her, the growth of a new wonder.

“Harold, how is it you can remember?”

“The lid can’t have been put on tight last time I was sent out.”

“And that,” she murmured, “might happen to anyone.”

“I should think it has⁠—to lots. They only want reminding.”

“It might happen to me.”

“Yes.”

“I too,” she said slowly, “have often not been able to sleep. Oh, Harold, is it possible?”

“What?”

“That I have lived before.”

“Of course it is.”

“Oh, Harold, I too may remember.”

“I hope you will. It’s wonderful to remember a life better than this one. I can’t explain how happy it makes you: there’s no need to try or to worry. It’ll come if it is coming.”

“Oh, Harold! I am remembering!”

He grasped her hands crying, “Remember only what is good. Remember that you were greater than you are now! I would give my life to help you.”

“You have helped me,” she cried, quivering with excitement. “All fits together. I remember all. It is not the first time I have known you. We have met before. Oh, how often have I dimly felt it. I felt it when I watched you sleeping⁠—but then I didn’t understand. Our love is not new. Here in this very place when there was a great city full of gorgeous palaces and snow-white marble temples, full of poets and music, full of marvellous pictures, full of sculptures of which we can hardly dream, full of noble men and noble thoughts, bounded by the sapphire sea, covered by the azure sky, here in the wonderful youth of Greece did I speak to you and know you and love you. We walked through the marble streets, we led solemn sacrifices, I armed you for the battle, I welcomed you from the victory. The centuries have parted us, but not forever. Harold, I too have lived at Acragas!”

Round the corner swept the Peaslakes’ carriage, full of excited occupants. He had only time to whisper in her ear, “No Mildred darling, you have not.”