In her turn, Prudencia slowly began to strip the petals from the camellia flower.
“Of course, when your children are involved the decision shouldn’t be difficult. They always come first. You live, you watch, you listen, play, teach, all the while thinking of them. But then one day the great dilemma arrives, the one that touches your heart, crushes your spirit, threatens your self-esteem. It turns up one day and presents you with a choice between two paths, each ending in sacrifice. If you take the right-hand path, you have to sacrifice yourself; if you take the left, it’s your children who suffer. Are you following me?”
“Please, go on.”
“Put like that it sounds rather cold-blooded, doesn’t it? You must be wondering how anyone could choose the left path and sacrifice their children. But it’s not that simple, my dear, because when you decide to take the second path you never allow yourself to see reality as it is, without excuses. You tell yourself that if you don’t pursue your own happiness, they’ll suffer too; that you have a right to be happy and you only get one life; that it’ll be better for them, they’re young, they’ll get over it. But the truth is, you make a choice and there is always a price to pay.”
Miss Prim turned toward the old lady and took her cold hands in her own. For the first time she appeared hunched, small, and fragile.
“I was faced with just such a dilemma, Prudencia. The details don’t matter now. All you need to know is that I could have chosen the right-hand path. But I chose the left. That’s the one I chose.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the horn as the maid pulled up to the house. As the two women rose and Miss Prim walked her companion to the car, tiny snowflakes started falling on the garden.
“You need to get home, you’re frozen. I’ll stay and wait for your son, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, dear, I stopped worrying a long time ago,” she replied as Miss Prim helped her climb in.
Once the car had driven off, Prudencia went to join the Man in the Wing Chair, who was taking his leave of a smiling, composed Miss Mott. As they walked to his car, she asked gently: “So, has everything been sorted out?”
He took off his coat and placed it around his employee, who was silently grateful.
“Yes, all sorted out.”
“Is she going to take him back?”
“She is, as long as he meets certain terms, which he assures her he’s prepared to do. I’ve spoken to him on the phone and I think he means it, but I want to see him in person and explain the plan to him more clearly.”
“The plan? There’s a plan?”
“Of course there’s a plan.”
“But you’re not going to tell me what it is, are you?”
“Quite right.”
They walked on in silence. The paths of San Ireneo were becoming blurred under snow when he asked: “Is she all right?”
Miss Prim searched for her words before replying.
“I think so, but she seems very sad. She believes you blame her for something that happened many years ago.”
The Man in the Wing Chair was silent for a moment.
“I don’t. I forgave her many years ago, when I was still a boy. It’s she who blames herself, but she can’t see that. It’s easier to project blame into the eyes of others and defend yourself against that than to find it within yourself, where there’s no possible defense.”
“But you said something very harsh to her this afternoon. I was staggered that you could say such a thing in front of everyone.”
While her employer took out his keys and unlocked the car, she wondered if she had said too much. Once he’d started the engine and switched the heating on full blast, he turned to her and spoke.
“My mother’s problem is that she can’t submit to any authority. She lost her parents years ago, and she lost her husband. She takes no account of her relatives’ views—she never has—and especially not her children’s. There’s no human or spiritual discipline to which she’ll subject her will. She just has her own opinions, and they’re the only tribunal that’s permitted to judge her when she makes a mistake. Can you imagine what you would be like if you didn’t have anyone close who was capable of influencing you? Anyone to point out your flaws, to confront you when you went too far, to correct you when you did something wrong?”
Miss Prim said that she certainly couldn’t imagine.
“My mother doesn’t have the blessing of someone to tell her what she absolutely doesn’t want to hear. This evening she was about to make a mistake and a weak, innocent person would have paid for it. I couldn’t let it happen, that’s all. There’s no bitterness or blame or accusation whatsoever in it. Quite the contrary: I love my mother deeply, believe me.”
Miss Prim again experienced the envy that had lingered all afternoon. They were almost back at the house when she remembered that there was something she wanted to ask him.
“What beauty will save the world? ” she murmured.
