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Authors: Susan Sontag
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could raise the spirit of your mother?
Heaven forbid! exclaimed the Cavaliere, opening his eyes to meet her odd, penetrating stare. Since people here always claim to adore their mothers, perhaps they do, so she couldnât know how unwelcome would be even an imaginary visitation of that unaffectionate, august beauty from whom he learned as a small child to expect nothing. Nothing.
I should like to hear about the future, he muttered. He had forgotten to wonder why Efrosina would assume his mother was dead, until he remembered: he was old, so she would now be very old. Not beautiful.
The near future, he added prudently.
He closed his eyes again, without meaning to, then opened them at a farrago of convulsive sounds.
Efrosina had gone pale. She was staring into the cube, groaning and hissing.
I donât like what I see. My lord, why have you asked me to look into the future? No. No. No â¦
Trembling, sweating profusely, racked by violent coughs and hiccups, she was putting on a show of being extremely uncomfortable. No, surely that was not right, for someone who trembles, who sweats, who coughs and hiccups is uncomfortable. But it is still a show.
Letâs go on with the game.
Are you seeing something? Something about the volcano?
She cannot fail to come to the point now.
I told the Cavaliere he was not old, she murmured huskily. I am old! My God, what a sight I am. Ah. I see, just when I get too old I will be saved. I will become young again. I will live for centuries! Nextâshe began to laughânext I will be Emilia. Then Eusapia. Yes, then I will travel to many places, as Eusapia Paladina I will be famous everywhere and even the American professor will be interested in me. Then, where was Iâshe wiped her eyes with the edge of a shawlâyes, Eleanora. Eleanora is very badâshe laughs. But ⦠then I leave Naples and move to London and I am Ellie and am head of a largeâ
The volcano! exclaimed the Cavaliere. Having directed Efrosina that the séance was not to be about his personal destiny, he hardly expected her to launch into this incomprehensible rant about herself.
Do you see when it will erupt again?
Efrosina looked at him impudently. My lord, I will see what you want me to look at.
She leaned forward, blew out the candle on the table, and peered into the cube. And now I see it. Ohâshe shook her head in ostentatious wondermentâoh, how ugly.
What?
I see a blackened ruin. The cone is gone.
He asked when this would happen.
So changed, she continued. All the woods are gone. There are no more horses. There is a black road. Now I see something quite comical. Droves of people laboring up the mountain, pushing each other. Everyone seems so tall. Tall like you, my lord. But wearing such strange clothes, you canât tell the gentlefolk from the servants, they all look like servants. And near the top ⦠someone in a little cabin selling pieces of lava and boxes of colored rocks, blue and red and yellow, and scarves and plates with pictures of the mountain. Oh, I fear I have gone too far forward.
Donât, said the Cavaliere.
The future is a hole, Efrosina murmured. When you fall in it, you cannot be sure how far you will go. You asked me to look and I do not control how far I see. But I see ⦠Yes.
What?
Twenty-six.
And she looked up.
Twenty-six eruptions? You see that many?
Years, my lord.
Years?
How many you have. It is a good number. Do not be angry with me, my lord.
She busied herself relighting the candle, as if to avoid looking at him. The Cavaliere flushed with annoyance. Was there more? No. She was taking the cloth from her breast, she covered the cube.
I have disappointed you, I know. But come again. Each time I see something different. Forgive Efrosina that she does not tell you more about the volcano today.
A slow burn of noise outside the door.
People come to me with many fears, she said. I cannot relieve them
Heaven forbid! exclaimed the Cavaliere, opening his eyes to meet her odd, penetrating stare. Since people here always claim to adore their mothers, perhaps they do, so she couldnât know how unwelcome would be even an imaginary visitation of that unaffectionate, august beauty from whom he learned as a small child to expect nothing. Nothing.
I should like to hear about the future, he muttered. He had forgotten to wonder why Efrosina would assume his mother was dead, until he remembered: he was old, so she would now be very old. Not beautiful.
The near future, he added prudently.
He closed his eyes again, without meaning to, then opened them at a farrago of convulsive sounds.
Efrosina had gone pale. She was staring into the cube, groaning and hissing.
I donât like what I see. My lord, why have you asked me to look into the future? No. No. No â¦
Trembling, sweating profusely, racked by violent coughs and hiccups, she was putting on a show of being extremely uncomfortable. No, surely that was not right, for someone who trembles, who sweats, who coughs and hiccups is uncomfortable. But it is still a show.
Letâs go on with the game.
Are you seeing something? Something about the volcano?
She cannot fail to come to the point now.
I told the Cavaliere he was not old, she murmured huskily. I am old! My God, what a sight I am. Ah. I see, just when I get too old I will be saved. I will become young again. I will live for centuries! Nextâshe began to laughânext I will be Emilia. Then Eusapia. Yes, then I will travel to many places, as Eusapia Paladina I will be famous everywhere and even the American professor will be interested in me. Then, where was Iâshe wiped her eyes with the edge of a shawlâyes, Eleanora. Eleanora is very badâshe laughs. But ⦠then I leave Naples and move to London and I am Ellie and am head of a largeâ
The volcano! exclaimed the Cavaliere. Having directed Efrosina that the séance was not to be about his personal destiny, he hardly expected her to launch into this incomprehensible rant about herself.
Do you see when it will erupt again?
Efrosina looked at him impudently. My lord, I will see what you want me to look at.
She leaned forward, blew out the candle on the table, and peered into the cube. And now I see it. Ohâshe shook her head in ostentatious wondermentâoh, how ugly.
What?
I see a blackened ruin. The cone is gone.
He asked when this would happen.
So changed, she continued. All the woods are gone. There are no more horses. There is a black road. Now I see something quite comical. Droves of people laboring up the mountain, pushing each other. Everyone seems so tall. Tall like you, my lord. But wearing such strange clothes, you canât tell the gentlefolk from the servants, they all look like servants. And near the top ⦠someone in a little cabin selling pieces of lava and boxes of colored rocks, blue and red and yellow, and scarves and plates with pictures of the mountain. Oh, I fear I have gone too far forward.
Donât, said the Cavaliere.
The future is a hole, Efrosina murmured. When you fall in it, you cannot be sure how far you will go. You asked me to look and I do not control how far I see. But I see ⦠Yes.
What?
Twenty-six.
And she looked up.
Twenty-six eruptions? You see that many?
Years, my lord.
Years?
How many you have. It is a good number. Do not be angry with me, my lord.
She busied herself relighting the candle, as if to avoid looking at him. The Cavaliere flushed with annoyance. Was there more? No. She was taking the cloth from her breast, she covered the cube.
I have disappointed you, I know. But come again. Each time I see something different. Forgive Efrosina that she does not tell you more about the volcano today.
A slow burn of noise outside the door.
People come to me with many fears, she said. I cannot relieve them
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