She was stunned, first, then dismayed. Anger had not even occurred to her yet.
The couple in front of her were already scrambling to dress, to hide their shame. The rumpled sheets and earthy smells told of their passions, their desires. She filled the doorway, and there was no way either could leave but by her leave.
On the table was a plain silver ring, identical to the ring on her own finger. Her love now grabbed for it, fumbled it on, while the lover hastily pulled on breeches and boots and a thin shirt.
She said nothing. Patiently she waited. Once they had composed themselves she would have the truth out of them.
At last, her beloved rose and turned to her, hands outstretched, wordlessly seeking her forgiveness. Her love's own love stood silent, looking her in the eyes, brave and unrepentant.
She took her love's hands, so warm, so small and slight, as her love shed tears, whether false or true she could not say. "Ellen, Ellen, forgive me! O! how do I tell you of what has happened here?"
"You do not have to, my Hermia," she said gently. "I would have it from your swain, instead." And she lifted her gaze to meet again her rival's. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable but direct.
"Fair Hermia sought my seed," Lysander said. "Maidens are you both, and in no means may a child be produced betwixt you, except in congress with a man. I meant not to break your love, but only to ease her distress."
"I see," Ellen said, who did not see at all. "And you would have deceived me ever more, my sweet, had you borne his babe?" She turned and left, casting her ring to the floor behind her, where it spun and clattered. Hermia uttered a moan, in her weeping, and dashed towards it, holding the fallen ring to her lips again and again. "Ellen, oh my Ellen! How I have wronged thee, oh thou loveliest of my heart!"
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ninetydegrees
original
on 2010-04-26 01:02 pm (UTC)The couple in front of her were already scrambling to dress, to hide their shame. The rumpled sheets and earthy smells told of their passions, their desires. She filled the doorway, and there was no way either could leave but by her leave.
On the table was a plain silver ring, identical to the ring on her own finger. Her love now grabbed for it, fumbled it on, while the lover hastily pulled on breeches and boots and a thin shirt.
She said nothing. Patiently she waited. Once they had composed themselves she would have the truth out of them.
At last, her beloved rose and turned to her, hands outstretched, wordlessly seeking her forgiveness. Her love's own love stood silent, looking her in the eyes, brave and unrepentant.
She took her love's hands, so warm, so small and slight, as her love shed tears, whether false or true she could not say. "Ellen, Ellen, forgive me! O! how do I tell you of what has happened here?"
"You do not have to, my Hermia," she said gently. "I would have it from your swain, instead." And she lifted her gaze to meet again her rival's. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable but direct.
"Fair Hermia sought my seed," Lysander said. "Maidens are you both, and in no means may a child be produced betwixt you, except in congress with a man. I meant not to break your love, but only to ease her distress."
"I see," Ellen said, who did not see at all. "And you would have deceived me ever more, my sweet, had you borne his babe?" She turned and left, casting her ring to the floor behind her, where it spun and clattered. Hermia uttered a moan, in her weeping, and dashed towards it, holding the fallen ring to her lips again and again. "Ellen, oh my Ellen! How I have wronged thee, oh thou loveliest of my heart!"