Where There Is Nothing

II

The Reverent Father found himself ensconced in the grand gazebo with Sister Olivia keeping him company. He languished in his armchair, a cigarette delicately poised in one hand, his mind trapped in the unending web of an utterly unremarkable day. It was the middle of July, and the relentless summer sun, perched high in the heavens, bore down upon the world with an unyielding ferocity. Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead, and the garden surrounding him exuded the heavy scent of juniper berries, their fragrance clinging to his senses like a sweet, cloying perfume. Yet, even this offering failed to alleviate the tedium that clung to his spirit. With a deep sigh that seemed to resonate with the weight of the world, he reclined further into the armchair, and, with a flicker of intention, ignited the cigarette, seeking in its embrace a fleeting respite from the monotony that enshrouded him like a suffocating cocoon.

Two interminable months had passed since that fateful night, when the mysterious stranger, who would later reveal herself as Lady Eliza Svendsdotter, had come to him. And since that night, she had disappeared so unexpectedly from his life as suddenly as she had entered it. It was as if she had materialized out of air, akin to a child's imaginary friend who had suddenly slipped away into the realm of dreams, yet lingered as a vivid memory in the corridors of his thoughts. The memory of her, with her youthful vitality and inscrutable allure, had become an indelible presence in his mind, and at times, he found himself wondering if she, too, had contemplated his own existence. His heart ached with a longing he had never before experienced, a longing that still smoldered in the depth of his dark, contemplative eyes. For weeks, he had awaited for the day when their paths would inevitable cross again under the cover of his due diligence, an anticipation that infused his days with vibrant hope. Yet, he struggled to pinpoint the moment when that hope begun to wither, the moment when despair had quietly overtaken his heart, as the memory of her grew ever more elusive. He stubbed out the remains of his cigarette in the ashtray with a weary, resigned gesture and stretched out, as if to expel the heaviness that had settled upon him. In that moment, his eyes were drawn upward, towards the clouds, suddenly alighting upon an emerging figure—a man of striking handsomeness, with fair skin, piercing blue eyes, and golden locks that shone like a halo.

"Leopold!" he cried out, his voice a mixture of astonishment and joy.

"Arthur! My dearest friend in all the world," Leopold responded, his words a soothing melody in the sweltering afternoon.

The two men locked eyes, an unspoken connection that transcended the boundaries of language, and they embraced warmly, as old friends who had weathered the storms of time and separation. "Your visit is a testament to your thoughtfulness," Arthur murmured, his voice tinged with gratitude, "a gift in the midst of this interminable day."

"It has been far too long," Leopold replied softly, a hint of nostalgia in his gaze as he surveyed their surroundings and took in the presence of Sister Olivia still stationed in the gazebo.

They ventured forth from the gazebo, wandering into the garden, their conversation a delightful exchange of pleasantries and stories. Unbeknownst to them, perched upon a gnarled branch, a fledgling bird trilled a sweet, haunting melody, a companion to their discourse, as if the garden itself were suddenly serenading their reunion.

"How long do you intend to stay?" The Reverent Father inquired, drawing a cigarette from his ornate case and pressing it to his lips, as an unspoken invitation to share in the comfort of smoke.

Leopold's gaze turned distant for a moment. "Merely, a handful of fleeting days shall I remain in Vienna."

"Then, in this brief interlude, I implore you to share your most recent adventures," the Reverent Father urged, his voice brimming with curiosity and eagerness.