Read Online Goya's Glass by Monika Zgustová, Matthew Tree - Free Book Online
Authors: Monika Zgustová, Matthew Tree
Ads: Link
tea set, yes, the white one with a touch of pink.
José, in the end, went to Seville. He was ill. I stayed in Madrid because it was ball season. Carnival was coming up.
The masquerade ball! I wore a dress which even the most daring of the maja s would never have worn. But for carnival, everything is permitted! The dress was designed in such a way that Francisco, if he came to the ball, could only recognize me from the décolletage. I danced with many young men, and also with Godoy, who couldn’t take his eyes off my décolletage and didn’t stop pushing me into a corner, like a common village bumpkin! I freed myself from his grasp by reaching out for another glass of champagne. And another, and more. I didn’t want to dance with just anyone; I was looking for stocky men. I observed one of them. It might be him. I kissed him, another, and another. I kissed all of them for a long time. How to know a man: by his kiss. We danced. A new roundish man took me from the arms of a young man. I had drunk too much champagne, my head was spinning. The dancer supported me, then he left the crowd with me, holding me firmly by the waist so that I didn’t fall. Once in the corridor, I stumbled on my dress and my dancing partner pressed me against him, but I bent over like a stalk holding a too-heavy flower. My partner had an unusual custom: he didn’t stop looking me in the eyes. Only the eyes, not like Godoy. I didn’t understand a thing, but I felt lighthearted. Suddenly Godoy, of all people, discovered me and pulled me out ofthe arms of the short, strong man to take me away. But I kept on feeling the arms of the unknown man around my body.
No, don’t put it on the bedside table, girl. Leave it for me here, on the low table, that’s right. Thank you, Consuelo, I don’t need you anymore.
The following morning the maid brought the hot chocolate to my bed, together with an envelope that was larger than usual. I found a drawing inside, without any letter or note: a woman in a mask, dressed like a maja , and in front of her a man leans forward and looks into her eyes; around them is a group of masked men, drawn to look repulsive. And a title that read : Nadie se conoce . The title meant that people don’t recognize each other, but also that they don’t even know themselves. An ambiguous title. And what do these repulsive men, these monsters, standing around, mean?
In the evening a new envelope arrived of the same size with another drawing: a very beautiful woman with naked breasts was half-sitting, half-lying across a man’s knees. Her head, with eyes half-open, was bent down like a broken ear of corn. The man is wringing his hands and wailing, his desperation limitless. Title: Tántalo . Tantalus, the king whom the gods punished by surrounding him with paradisical fruits, which when he tried to pick them, moved away. Temptation is offered and then immediately denied. There is no doubt: the man is him, the features of the face are his. The woman, who lies across his knees, showing her marvelous breast, is me. It is my face, my figure, my hair. Andnow I realize that the posture of the body in the drawing is the same as that of the clothed maja and the nude maja .
Two drawings.
Francisco the courtesan, who reproaches his lady for not recognizing him.
Francisco Tantalus, who desires the tempting fruits that are forbidden to him.
“María, bring me my husband’s letters. I keep them in the alcove.”
“But all the correspondence which Your Highness received from the Marquis of Villafranca is in the bottom drawer of the bedside table!”
“Is it? Well then, give me the letters. Just the last packet. Yes, they are from him. Let’s see, one of the last, chosen at random.”
Seville, April 1796
My dearest,
Your Madame de Sévigné wrote to her absent daughter: “Il faut se consoler en vous écrivant.” I identify completely with these words; writing to you is my only consolation, my only joy.
This time I am unable to
José, in the end, went to Seville. He was ill. I stayed in Madrid because it was ball season. Carnival was coming up.
The masquerade ball! I wore a dress which even the most daring of the maja s would never have worn. But for carnival, everything is permitted! The dress was designed in such a way that Francisco, if he came to the ball, could only recognize me from the décolletage. I danced with many young men, and also with Godoy, who couldn’t take his eyes off my décolletage and didn’t stop pushing me into a corner, like a common village bumpkin! I freed myself from his grasp by reaching out for another glass of champagne. And another, and more. I didn’t want to dance with just anyone; I was looking for stocky men. I observed one of them. It might be him. I kissed him, another, and another. I kissed all of them for a long time. How to know a man: by his kiss. We danced. A new roundish man took me from the arms of a young man. I had drunk too much champagne, my head was spinning. The dancer supported me, then he left the crowd with me, holding me firmly by the waist so that I didn’t fall. Once in the corridor, I stumbled on my dress and my dancing partner pressed me against him, but I bent over like a stalk holding a too-heavy flower. My partner had an unusual custom: he didn’t stop looking me in the eyes. Only the eyes, not like Godoy. I didn’t understand a thing, but I felt lighthearted. Suddenly Godoy, of all people, discovered me and pulled me out ofthe arms of the short, strong man to take me away. But I kept on feeling the arms of the unknown man around my body.
No, don’t put it on the bedside table, girl. Leave it for me here, on the low table, that’s right. Thank you, Consuelo, I don’t need you anymore.
The following morning the maid brought the hot chocolate to my bed, together with an envelope that was larger than usual. I found a drawing inside, without any letter or note: a woman in a mask, dressed like a maja , and in front of her a man leans forward and looks into her eyes; around them is a group of masked men, drawn to look repulsive. And a title that read : Nadie se conoce . The title meant that people don’t recognize each other, but also that they don’t even know themselves. An ambiguous title. And what do these repulsive men, these monsters, standing around, mean?
In the evening a new envelope arrived of the same size with another drawing: a very beautiful woman with naked breasts was half-sitting, half-lying across a man’s knees. Her head, with eyes half-open, was bent down like a broken ear of corn. The man is wringing his hands and wailing, his desperation limitless. Title: Tántalo . Tantalus, the king whom the gods punished by surrounding him with paradisical fruits, which when he tried to pick them, moved away. Temptation is offered and then immediately denied. There is no doubt: the man is him, the features of the face are his. The woman, who lies across his knees, showing her marvelous breast, is me. It is my face, my figure, my hair. Andnow I realize that the posture of the body in the drawing is the same as that of the clothed maja and the nude maja .
Two drawings.
Francisco the courtesan, who reproaches his lady for not recognizing him.
Francisco Tantalus, who desires the tempting fruits that are forbidden to him.
“María, bring me my husband’s letters. I keep them in the alcove.”
“But all the correspondence which Your Highness received from the Marquis of Villafranca is in the bottom drawer of the bedside table!”
“Is it? Well then, give me the letters. Just the last packet. Yes, they are from him. Let’s see, one of the last, chosen at random.”
Seville, April 1796
My dearest,
Your Madame de Sévigné wrote to her absent daughter: “Il faut se consoler en vous écrivant.” I identify completely with these words; writing to you is my only consolation, my only joy.
This time I am unable to
Similar Books
