[75] What will remove all fear forever?

I write to Gus every month for us both. We never get one back from him. We don’t expect to – he dreads writing letters. But we get them from friends of Gus, along with heavy envelopes stuffed with gallery notices and newspaper clippings.

Grandfather writes to us every week, one double-sided sheet, in clear, plain script. I always open them with a bad case of nerves, but he never gives us reason to worry. There is rarely any news for him to impart – his life doesn’t generate any, and he doesn’t try to make his days sound more important than they are. His letters are to tell us who he still is, and he can’t help being cheerful about the world, no matter how it disappoints him. ‘Technology has weakened us,’ one says. ‘Our mastery of it hasn’t saved us from historical forces; it has only rendered us more vulnerable to them.’ He just chats, reminding us that his life doesn’t change much. ‘In love, the self finds itself in the other. Self and object realize themselves in each other. Love is self-discovery through self-surrender.’ Paul has been as much a leap for him as for me. Well, not quite – I’m the one who lives with the choice every moment. It’s just that like me, he never would have imagined Paul. An artist? We could have envisioned that together. A Catholic plutocrat with links to the nobility? Who could imagine Paul even existed? That first winter, I open a letter from him and look at it and laugh. Before we head to the pub that night, after Paul’s had his long stare and his three fingers, I show it to him:

 

… Paul clearly has a secret source of powerful women. Please tell him that I had a most interesting visit two days ago, in the evening, from the Countess Charlotte of Györ and Örmüllö. I believe that’s how her name is styled. Paul, you really must write to her. She isn’t worried about you, but she wants to hear from your own words how you are. She knows where you are, and we had quite an enjoyable conversation about your life in Prague, about the street where you’re living and the cultural life there. I think you have to assume that she’s having you watched. Or perhaps you already know.

Paul, we had a very pleasant evening. She came in a carriage and brought a picnic hamper with her and we shared a long rich dinner together. She is one of those people who finds everyone and everything fascinating, and we talked about politics and history. Even so, we laughed a great deal. She has a good grasp of life’s absurdities, including her own, and by extension yours, Emma. I decided to reject nihilism long ago, as something people can only play with at best and can never truly live, but Charolotte I must admit has made it harder for me to reject the all-contingent perspective on human existence. Also, we talked about horses, and I introduced her to Ostara. The resemblance between you is quite astonishing, and not just physically. I had the sense that if you talked more, you would sound like her, and that if she talked less, she would act like you.

Paul, tell me one day what she is constantly laughing at. Emma, she thinks highly of you and hopes that both of you know how lucky you are. We broached the subject of your heritage. May we all hope for a world where no one will need to. But of course it must always be there in this age we have. She has a good sense of my position with you and with my son’s family, and she felt she needed to tell me that although the Karsch family is too small to raise problems for you – apparently, she and Paul are the only members left – her husband’s circles would consider Paul’s relationship with you a scandal. She has told me all about her husband’s political activities, which I think now was really the point of her visit. She was not apologizing for him, but she wanted me to know her own views, which are not his. It seems that the purpose of her visit was to reassure me that as Paul’s only relative, she will support any future you hope to make together and will not allow her husband to make it more difficult for you if he chooses to try. I was left with the impression that Count Ferenc is not in a position, familial or social, to do you or Paul any harm. So, Paul, in your sister you have someone who will act on her love for you whenever it’s necessary (which I’m sure you already know), and Emma, you have found still another friend for those times of need which I hope will never come.

The weather is somewhat damp this morning, so it’s a good day for me to go and clean out the …

 

Paul nods thought so and hands it back. ‘She told him about the horse.’