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There once lived a sculptor who shunned the love of women. He had looked upon the cold wives of his neighbors, their cruel mistresses, and painted whores of the streets and was repulsed. Unable to find beauty in the world, he shut himself away in his home, and by the light of candles began to craft.
"He said he could never love one like me! I am tainted!"
The chamber of the House Mistress was dimly lit by paper lanterns among the walls and the comforting glow of a wide copper brazier at its center, though it did little to warm the hearts of the two people within. A girl, no more than seventeen, wept into the arms of an older woman who was seated on a velvet settee. Behind them, the colors of a glass mural glittered like gemstones in the half-light. Though the hues were muted in the firelight, it clearly depicted the goddess Sune combing her hair by the pool of Evergold, blissfully unaware of the feminine cries. The matron stroked the girl's dark hair, murmuring comforts.
"You are not tainted, my love. How could you believe such a thing?"
"He cannot bear the thought of all those who have touched me before him. I'm impure. I heard him say it!" The girl released a muffled sob into the woman's lap.
"There, there, my heart. What you do is not impure. What is more pure than bringing light and joy into the hearts of others? You are an angel."
"What does that matter if he does not love me? I thought... I thought he would ask me to marry him one day. But now he will not even see me! He will not write or call upon me!"
The woman gathered the girl into her arms, helping her to sit upright so that she could look into her face. With a mother's experienced hand, she drew back a few tear-soaked tendrils behind the girl's ear.
"He did not love you because he is blind to your true beauty, that spirit within you that nurtures and brings light to so many. You brought him comfort and joy, yes, but you gave too much of yourself. That is a lesson that can only be learned the hardest way."
Soothed by the woman's calm, weathered tone, her sobs began to subside into sniffles. The matron continued.
"Your heart will heal from this, and then you will realize that you have the love of so many more. One man alone cannot fill that heart of yours, that has such capacity for love."
Tear-stained eyes looked up at that.
"But... I loved him."
"I know, my heart. I know."
At the far end of the room, a thin bar of silver light shone from the hallway, a large brown eye peering inward. The child listening at the door never knew that anyone could sound so pained, so broken. Yes, she had cried from time to time, when she fell and scraped her hands, or when she had dropped her favorite hairpin into the frog pond... But never like that.
"Priya!"
She startled, the hem of her silk robe nearly causing her to trip. She hadn't noticed anyone approach; the pain of her sister-in-training had frozen her in place. Her gaze lifted to a regal young woman, a newly made initiate, standing over her in the candlelit hallway. The child wiped hastily at her eyes.
"Come away from there!" the older girl whispered. "You ought not to listen at doors, the Mistress's chamber least of all. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"Yes, sister. I- I'm sorry."
Ducking her head, the girl with dark eyes hurried away from the door without looking back.
"He said he could never love one like me! I am tainted!"
The chamber of the House Mistress was dimly lit by paper lanterns among the walls and the comforting glow of a wide copper brazier at its center, though it did little to warm the hearts of the two people within. A girl, no more than seventeen, wept into the arms of an older woman who was seated on a velvet settee. Behind them, the colors of a glass mural glittered like gemstones in the half-light. Though the hues were muted in the firelight, it clearly depicted the goddess Sune combing her hair by the pool of Evergold, blissfully unaware of the feminine cries. The matron stroked the girl's dark hair, murmuring comforts.
"You are not tainted, my love. How could you believe such a thing?"
"He cannot bear the thought of all those who have touched me before him. I'm impure. I heard him say it!" The girl released a muffled sob into the woman's lap.
"There, there, my heart. What you do is not impure. What is more pure than bringing light and joy into the hearts of others? You are an angel."
"What does that matter if he does not love me? I thought... I thought he would ask me to marry him one day. But now he will not even see me! He will not write or call upon me!"
The woman gathered the girl into her arms, helping her to sit upright so that she could look into her face. With a mother's experienced hand, she drew back a few tear-soaked tendrils behind the girl's ear.
"He did not love you because he is blind to your true beauty, that spirit within you that nurtures and brings light to so many. You brought him comfort and joy, yes, but you gave too much of yourself. That is a lesson that can only be learned the hardest way."
Soothed by the woman's calm, weathered tone, her sobs began to subside into sniffles. The matron continued.
"Your heart will heal from this, and then you will realize that you have the love of so many more. One man alone cannot fill that heart of yours, that has such capacity for love."
Tear-stained eyes looked up at that.
"But... I loved him."
"I know, my heart. I know."
At the far end of the room, a thin bar of silver light shone from the hallway, a large brown eye peering inward. The child listening at the door never knew that anyone could sound so pained, so broken. Yes, she had cried from time to time, when she fell and scraped her hands, or when she had dropped her favorite hairpin into the frog pond... But never like that.
"Priya!"
She startled, the hem of her silk robe nearly causing her to trip. She hadn't noticed anyone approach; the pain of her sister-in-training had frozen her in place. Her gaze lifted to a regal young woman, a newly made initiate, standing over her in the candlelit hallway. The child wiped hastily at her eyes.
"Come away from there!" the older girl whispered. "You ought not to listen at doors, the Mistress's chamber least of all. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"
"Yes, sister. I- I'm sorry."
Ducking her head, the girl with dark eyes hurried away from the door without looking back.
