Fading, Like the Stars

The way the conversation had turned, had made me a little afraid of how it might possibly end. There had been potential there for the discussion to turn into an argument. Luckily, it didn’t go that far. When Arnaud finished talking, he sat back – he had stood up, at some point, though I had been too caught up in his speech to notice when this had actually happened and was now very surprised to see him standing. Arnaud looked at all of us in turn, to see if there was something that we wanted to add. But none of us did, because there was nothing to add to that. Daniel graciously gave up the fight. He smiled and congratulated our host on his passion and on his words.

The evening went on for a while, with the conversation drifting to more conventional subjects, nothing as controversial as the political opinions of all those who sat around the table.

Cécile was the first to announce her intention to go to bed. Arnaud, Daniel and Rufus had dragged the conversation late into the night. Cécile had discreetly yawned several times before she spoke.

“I think I’ll leave you, if its’ alright with you, grandfather,” she said in that very soft voice of hers, all the while struggling to keep her eyes open. I couldn’t blame her for that. I wasn’t far from falling asleep myself.

“Of course, you may go,” Arnaud replied, smiling tenderly. Every time that his eyes landed on her, they shone with such tenderness that they very easily betrayed how much he cared about her. She smiled at him in return, her eyes holding the same love and tenderness that shone in his. Then she bade everyone goodnight, and stood up from the table.

“If it’s alright, I think I’ll come with you,” I said quickly, before she had the time to leave the room. “Sorry to abandon you,” I quickly told the three men, “but I can barely stay awake. It’s been a long journey…”

“Oh, I understand,” Arnaud said quickly. “Don’t let me keep you from getting some rest.”

Cécile accompanied me back to the room that had been given to me, then quickly disappeared down the dimly-lit corridor.

Despite the comfort of the room, and that of the bed, I did not sleep very well that night. I couldn’t help but think about the fact that we were several feet under the ground. Who knew how solid this construction actually was? Who knew what exactly was happening above our heads? And there was also something else, something that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but that added to my feeling of discomfort. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel safe in the library. Hidden under the ground, it was probably one of the safest places around. There was nothing that could happen to us. No one could find us here. But I didn’t feel the same sense of security that I had felt before. There was also something else, a feeling that was even harder to identify than that strange sense of insecurity. Here, with the heavy silence that lay above me, it seemed that there was something missing, something that wasn’t there. And that feeling kept me from falling asleep. I would have been unable to say what it was exactly, but it was too quiet to my liking.

Underground, it was hard to tell what time of day it was. When I woke up, there was no sun shining through the curtains that would have given me an idea of what time it was. In the caravan, I could always tell whether it was late or not, whether it was okay or not to stay in bed a little longer. Here, obviously, there was no window, and there was no daylight. So, when I opened my eyes, it could have been four in the morning, or four in the afternoon. I couldn’t have a clue.

The silence was still there. It took a moment before I realized what it was that was really annoying me about that. I was alone. I was really alone, and there was no one even breathing in this room with me. It was just me, alone with my thoughts and doubts and everything that was scary about that. And that was why the silence was so oppressing. Strangely, and even though he was barely a few doors away, I missed Rufus. I was used to having him around all the time, now. He… sort of… had grown to be more important than I would ever have thought he would. And yet, things were not entirely resolved, after what had just happened. I was still not over how much of a shock his disappearance had caused me. And I was still a little angry. It didn’t really make any sense to be angry, but this was how it is. My anger was in no way directed towards him. He had done nothing to deserve it. I knew that the situation was absolutely not of his doing. He’d have avoided it, if he could. And the fact that it had happened… well, he was not to be blamed, he was only doing what he thought right. There was nothing wrong with that. I might not have agreed with everything that Rufus did, but I wasn’t going to try to change anything that made him who he was. And yet, it didn’t change a thing about the fact that I was angry at the situation. I was angry at the world, because it was what it was. But of course, the world wasn’t a good recipient for my anger, because the world didn’t care about me, didn’t care about the fact that I wasn’t pleased with the way it functioned, and wasn’t going to be different just because I wished it would be. You could not be angry at the world, because the world would never answer to that anger. So all of this unused anger was still there, and since I could not direct it towards its true object, it just lingered, and made me feel uneasy.

I left the bedroom shortly after waking up, since I had absolutely no idea of the time. It annoyed me that I had no idea of the time. It could potentially be late, and I didn’t want to look like I was just going to stay in my room all day.

I got lost several times on my way to the dining room, the place that I thought it most likely to find someone. The library was just so much bigger than I had thought. Arnaud had only showed us some of the many rooms that it comprised, and in the absence of natural light or any other environmental element that would have helped me to make the distinction between all these rooms, I had to try several times before I could find my way back to the room where we had all dined the previous evening.

It turned out that I was wrong about it being possibly late. It was in fact rather early in the morning, and when I got a room that was slightly more familiar than the others, Cécile was the only one in there. She was engrossed in a book, absentmindedly twirling strands of hair between her fingers, and chewing on her bottom lip as she turned the page. She hadn’t heard me coming, and for a few seconds, I did not make my presence known to her. It was just that… it was so strange to see somebody read a book, read it in the open, without the fear of being controlled. I’d never really seen anyone read a novel before, apart from my mother – but that was different. Not even Rufus, now that I came to think of it. He knew about the books I had carried with me, and he seemed to agree with it, but I had never seen him open one himself. Even the plays that the circus acted, they didn’t seem to be written on paper, or at least I hadn’t been allowed to see them. I had read a few novels, and my mother had read more, but I had never seen anyone else do it. And here was this young girl, sitting at a table with a book open in front of her, and she didn’t seem to find I strange to be reading. She didn’t seem to perceive the danger that reading would consist in, above the surface.

After a few seconds of staring, I discreetly coughed, then called her name. “Cécile?”

Her head immediately went up, her eyes wide and scanning my face for a second, before she seemed to remember who I was. She blushed delicately. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She quickly closed the book. “I hadn’t heard you.” Her voice was exactly how it had been the previous day. Soft, quiet and shy. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want some breakfast?”

“May I sit down?” I asked, indicating the seat opposite hers at the table.

She nodded, and her gaze drifted back to her book. It seemed obvious that she wanted to continue reading, that she wanted to know what was going to happen to the characters, but because I was there, she dared not open the book again.

“Is no one else here?” I asked after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

Cécile shook her head. “Granddad has gone out to check the surroundings. No one else is up yet.”

“Checking the surroundings?” I questioned, wondering what there was to check.

“It’s a habit of his, he does it every morning, or nearly.”

“Oh. Well. I suppose it does make sense.” I waited for a moment to see if she was going to say anything, and she seemed to be doing the same. It was an awkward moment during which none of us knew how to act, and we were quite embarrassed by the presence of each other.

“Can I fix you something for breakfast?” Cécile suddenly asked as she remembered her duties as a hostess.

I quickly shook my head. “No, it’s fine, I’ll just wait for the boys to wake up. No need to bother you twice.” I waited a moment, hesitating, awkwardly shuffling in my seat. “May I ask,” I murmured eventually, “how it is to live in a place like this?”

Cécile looked like she was embarrassed for a moment, but more by the fact that she had to speak, than by my question, it seemed. Cécile either was not used to do much talking, or did not like to talk around strangers. Either way, she wasn’t put at ease by my presence. She vaguely shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t really know what to say,” she said in a voice that was, as always, very soft. “I’ve got nothing to compare to, really. I guess… it’s the same as everywhere else, once you get past the environment. Life doesn’t really differ, does it?”

“But it must be different,” I insisted, casting a quick glance at our surroundings. No one else had the chance to be surrounded by all these things. Ordinary people didn’t even know that these things existed. This had to make a huge difference.

“Perhaps,” Cécile conceded quietly. “But I don’t really know.”

It was quite obvious that I wouldn’t get to know much about her life just now. Stories of this place and of how life was like in here would be stories that I would have to earn. She wasn’t going to tell them, straightaway, to people she didn’t know. I was fine with that, even though slightly disappointed that my curiosity remained intact. But Arnaud, I guess, would probably agree to tell me much more about the place. He was the talkative one, and seemed quite enthusiastic about sharing his love for this place.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her. “Something to help around?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. You’re a guest. Guests don’t work when they’re here. My grandfather would not allow it. It would be against the basic laws of hospitality. And, besides, there is not really much to do here.” She stopped talking and took a deep breath, her eyes a little wide, as if she was amazed that she had spoken so many words at once.

Daniel and Rufus eventually woke up, too, but not before Arnaud had come back, and informed me that everything was alright, outside, and that it promised to be a clear day. I did not really see the interest in bothering about the weather, since we would not see any of it, seeing that we were hidden under the ground. But according to Arnaud, it made all the difference possible.

The first day in the library was spent slowly. Accompanied by Arnaud, I explored the library a little more. It turned out that there was much more to see than what he had showed me when we had arrived, and simply walking through the many more rooms that there were took us the best part of the day. Both Daniel and Rufus declined the invitation when Arnaud offered them to come along for the tour. They had been to the library before, and they didn’t really need to be given the tour. They would rest, they said, for the journey had been very tiring. And they had some things to discuss between themselves. It was alright. Arnaud was of such a pleasant company that it was enough to make me forget that I didn’t even know him two days ago. He was able to charm you with a few words, and could keep the conversation going for hours without ever tapping into the controversial subjects – like those that Daniel, for example, was so fond of. It put me at ease, that he was doing most of the talking, and that even when he asked questions, it never required from me to express an opinion that either I would not possess or that would cause problems. Arnaud was easy-going, he knew lots of things about the works that filled the library – even though, as he said it himself, he didn’t know half of the things that were stored in the place. It would take more than a lifetime to study everything, apparently. He was also passionate about the things that he talked about, and it was a real pleasure to listen to him.

I discovered rooms in the libraries that were even more spectacular than what I had seen before. I also discovered that the true extent of the place was bigger, if possible, than what I had imagined first. But what I had first thought to be a completely random setting that would require a map to become familiar with, was actually a little more organized than I had thought. Of course, it still was an incredible maze. With so many rooms, and especially with so many rooms looking so very much alike, it would have been impossible to be the opposite. But there still was some kind of recurring thing to it. All the corridors that the rooms opened on, seemed to, in the end, wind their way back to that place where we had eaten the previous evening. It was that room that seemed to be the center of the library. Once I realized this, and once Arnaud confirmed it, I grew a bit more confident about the place. I knew now that I could explore it all that I wanted, since I would always find a way back to a place that I knew. It made things much easier. I would no longer need Arnaud’s help to explore the place.

The tour that Arnaud gave me was fantastic, and yet, all the time that I followed him, and that I watched my surroundings with eyes wide in awe, and that I listened to the many stories that the old man had to tell, and laughed to his jokes, I could not help but wonder exactly how long we would have to stay here. Right now, everything was wonderful and new, but what about the moment when I would have seen all the rooms, when I would have grown tired of all the works that were in here, when I would long for the light of day – not on stolen occasions, but on a daily basis.

Of course, I said nothing about these worries. Not to Arnaud, because he was kind enough to accept our presence without asking questions, and I didn’t want to sound ungrateful. And certainly not to Rufus, because since it was because of what had happened to him that we found ourselves forced to prolong our stay here, he would surely feel guilty, and that was the very last thing that I wanted.

And Rufus had enough to worry about as it was. Especially since he seemed to think that the fact that we had not spoken very often since the incident in the town, meant that I was somehow angry at him. He’d confronted me about that once, when we were still on our way to the library. My answer then had not, apparently, satisfied him, since he asked to speak to me later that evening, after we had eaten and that Arnaud had offered to get in the music room and listen to some music before we took our leave for the night. I had been quite enthusiastic about it. There was a piano in the music room. A real piano, and apparently Arnaud could play it. I had never heard the sound made by a real piano, and I could not wait to listen to Arnaud.

But Rufus asked to talk to me, and there was no way I could say no to him. I wondered what he had to say, but things had been so hectic these last few days that we had not had the time to talk about everything that had happened, and I reckoned that he just wanted my opinion on this place, since we had not shared our impressions yet. It wasn’t what he wanted.

The way he started to fumble nervously as he tried to find the right words to say reminded me very much of an evening, a long time ago, when I was still thinking about leaving the circus. This was my first clue that we were not going to talk about the library.

“Are you alright?” Rufus asked, and it was a very unusual way to start a conversation for him.

“Y-yes?” I muttered, quite anxious about why we had talk now.

“Is there anything wrong?”

“Uh… I’m – I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” The turn the conversation was taking was making me feel uneasy. There was something I did not understand.

“Is there anything that’s wrong… because before we left, I – uh – I was under the impression that we… but you’re all… Was it something I… did I do something wrong, to push you away?”

All in all, what Rufus was saying did not make much sense, but even though it made no sense, there was something that seemed to come out of this.

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong…” I protested strongly.

“Well you seem angry at me,” Rufus said quietly.

“I’m not, I assure you. Why would I?”

“Because of the trouble I got into.”

“No, I’m not. I’m really not. And if I’m angry, it’s not at you. There would be no sense in that. If anything, I’m scared, but I would never be angry at you. I don’t know where you get that from.”

“You’ve been distant lately.”

“Things have been complicated.”

“How so? If there’s something that worries you, you should tell me.”

“Excuse me,” a small voice chimed in, and Cécile appeared in the doorway. “Granddad’s asking if you’re coming…”

“We’re coming,” I reassured her, and with a short nod, she disappeared inside the room.

“There’s something different, and I don’t know what,” Rufus said quietly.

“We should really go,” I replied, a tiny bit relieved that I did not have to talk about feelings that I wasn’t sure I even understood.

We did not talk any more that evening, just enjoyed the time spent in the library, and listened to Arnaud, who seemed determined to make our time spent with him a memorable one. By the time the evening ended, Rufus seemed to have forgotten about the things that he wanted to talk about. I did not press on to resume the conversation, and went to sleep quite relieved that the conversation was forgotten.

But yet again I could not sleep, and I could not get this topic out of my mind. I could not let Rufus think that I was angry at him. It was true that we had been a little pulled apart by the circumstances, and we hadn’t talked much lately. And I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to share my impressions about this. Because he was the first person I’d met, with whom I could share all these things.

I was sort of afraid that I would find him already asleep, but when I knocked, he opened the door immediately.

“I know you don’t believe me,” I said quickly, because if I did not speak immediately, I would lose myself in my own speech, and I would not be able to make my thoughts clear, “but I’m not angry at you. Really I’m not. I’m just… after what happened, I’m just terrified that I might lose you, and I don’t know how to react to this – well I don’t know how to react other than just running away like I’d usually do, but obviously I can’t go away. Not ever.”

I wasn’t sure it made much sense, or convinced him. But it did. He understood, and he proved it to me. Quite easily.

It was later that night that we talked about Venice for the first time.