Marie

"What I know, everyone can know.

My heart is mine alone."

W. Goethe

Somewhere in the distance, a clock can be heard striking ten. The streets of the nineteenth-century city are shrouded in thick fog. The houses look as if they were draped in muslin curtains. Yet the air is crisp and smells of fresh summer rain. From somewhere down the street, the sound of quick footsteps can be heard.

Dressed only in a thin dress, a girl walks quickly, almost running. Every few moments, she checks to see if anyone is following her. No. She can be calm. The street is almost empty.

Drunk men standing at the entrance to the nightclubs accost her. The stench of alcohol repulses her and brings back unpleasant memories. But now is not the time. She must flee. Anywhere. But where... She cannot answer this question.

Her head begins to spin. She decides to enter the nearest alley and get some rest. She perched on the step in front of a large door that was barely hanging on its hinges.

"What a strange feeling," she thought. "As if everything around her was spinning."

For a moment, it seemed the rat sitting across from her was staring intently at her. But she didn't have time to consider it, as her eyelids closed, and her body and mind gave way.

* * *

The day promised to be quite pleasant. The morning breeze caressed the faces of passersby, and the sun peeked cheerfully into their homes. The city looked as if it had awakened after a long sleep.

A tall, dark-haired boy was pushing his bicycle, laden with various packages. Today he would visit his mother, who lived two blocks away.

When he arrived, he leaned his bicycle against the fence railing. From one of the packages, he pulled a bag filled with sweet candies. He always brought something for his younger siblings. He loved seeing the joyful smiles on their little faces. Since his father's death, there had been fewer and fewer reasons to laugh...

But at that moment, something else caught his attention. Someone was lying on the stairs, in front of the door leading to his mother's house. He moved closer to take a closer look.

"Probably another drunk or a vagrant," he thought.

But he was wrong. It was a young girl. She wore only a thin dress. Her blond hair fell delicately over her bare, slightly soiled shoulders.

He gently grabbed her hand. He tried to wake her, but to no avail. For a brief moment, a shiver ran down his spine. She was breathing. Most likely unconscious. His heart felt lighter.

"I'll take her to Mom. She'll know what to do with her."

Leaving this defenseless creature to her fate didn't even cross his mind. He knew the laws that governed the streets of this city well and knew that in the long run, she had no chance of survival.

"Hello, Mom! I have a little surprise for you.

" "Son! I'm so glad to see you! And what is it?"

A plump woman wearing an apron emerged from the kitchen, or rather, from whatever it was. Two small children were hiding behind her skirt.

"I don't know who it is. I found her by the door. She's unconscious."

"Put her on the couch. I'll try to take care of her."

"Thank you, Mom. I can always count on you. And I have something for you little ones too."

He pulled a packet of sweets from his pocket and handed it to the delighted children.

* * *

The sun gently tickled her face. She decided to keep her eyes closed for a moment. She smelled the smell of baking cake. Strange. Kitchen smells never reached her room. She slowly opened her eyes. What she saw exceeded her expectations. She wasn't home. So where was she?

She tried to remember what had happened to her last night. Fog. Drunk men. And that strange rat... Yes, she remembered everything now. But she still didn't know where she was.

She sat up in her bed. Someone was sitting in the corner of the room, clearly watching her for a long time.

"Good morning," he said. From the voice, it was clear it was a young man. "

Good morning. Would you be so kind as to let me know where I am?" she asked politely. At home, she had been taught that regardless of the situation or the person she was talking to, she must always be very polite. (Sometimes this was difficult for her, especially with people...). "

You're at my mother's house. I found you unconscious this morning. You were sitting on the stairs, in front of the house.

" "Thank you."

Suddenly, she heard loud growling sounds coming from her stomach. She hadn't eaten since yesterday.

"Would you like to eat... breakfast?"

"Thank you, but I don't want to impose.

" "It's no problem. Here you go."

He handed her a plate of bread and a jar of jam. Now she had a chance to get a better look at the boy. He was tall, with large, dark eyes and short, black hair. He seemed her age. You could even say he was handsome. But she never paid any attention to that. That's how she'd been taught.

"Who are you and how did you end up in such a desolate place?" he asked.

"Desolate?"

"Judging by your clothes, you're not from here.

" "My name is Marie. And yours?" "

They call me Bill. Are you from one of those aristocratic families?

" "No," she lied. "I'm a merchant's daughter." "

And the dress?" "

I stole it."

"Are you sure? I don't think so. You probably ran away from home because they wouldn't buy you some new collection of silk gloves or scarves. You probably live in a wealthy neighborhood and have your own tenement house..." A triumphant smile spread across his face. It wasn't the first time he'd encountered spoiled girls running away from home.

"You don't understand! It's not like that at all!

" "So you did run away.

" "Yes, but don't even try to convince me to come back!"

"Fine. You can stay here for now, but you'll have to help your mother with her work. "

"Thank you."

She hadn't expected it to be so easy. She thought he'd try to coax her back and keep her in suspense with questions. Strange. People were unpredictable.

"Let's hope there's no trap here..." she thought.

* * *

The days dragged on mercilessly. Every day she got up at 6:00 a.m. and went to the market with Bill's mother. Then to work for some wealthy family. Her only companions were a broom and a metal bucket full of soapy water. They returned home late at night. They still had to wash the children and put them to bed. And then... then she was so exhausted that all she longed for was a piece of pillow.

Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, she would think:

"So this is what freedom feels like? Is this what I've always longed for? Hard work and no comforts, no entertainment. How can these people live like this? It's unbearable!"

Bill visited them as he did every day. Marie loved meeting him. They talked a lot. One day he arrived very early. He placed a roll of bills on the table.

"Mom. This money is for you," he said.

"You know very well how I feel about what you do..." her mother said.

"Please! You know how it is! I'm not doing this for pleasure."

Marie's thoughts raced through her mind. She felt faint. She went to the window and opened it wide.

"So he's a thief... How is that possible?! He's so smart... and kind..."

He approached her. He wanted to take her hand, but he noticed tears in her eyes. He didn't know why, but he felt guilty.

A colorful butterfly flew through the window. It fluttered its wings and landed on Marie's hand.

"Look!" she said. "Isn't he beautiful? And yet so fragile... Just touch his delicate wings and he'll never take flight again."

"I didn't know that. You're right, he's beautiful. But a bit unreal...

" "That's because he's so fragile. Just like a feeling.

" "What do you mean? " "

Easily destroyed, and on top of that, so fleeting... " "There's something strange about her. At times she resembles a small, lost child

, and sometimes she's distant, unreal," he thought.

Marie spent more and more time in solitary contemplation. The thought of returning took on a more and more concrete form.

One day, when Bill visited them, they went for a short walk. The weather was beautiful. They went out of town, to a small embankment. There they could hear the splashing of a nearby stream and the rustle of trees. They sat down under one of them. The spreading branches provided pleasant shade. "

There are more and more police in town. They're looking for a young girl."

He glanced in her direction, but she averted her face.

"Why did you do it? Why did you run away?

" "Because I couldn't stand this cage anymore.

" "Cage?" "

They lock you in a cage called aristocracy. You have no right to decide anything for yourself. They tell you what to wear, how to speak, and even what to think. For example, when some pushy and sleazy prospective husband visits you, you must speak to him very politely and always say, 'I feel honored by your visit.'" No matter how sick you are at the sight of him, you must be beaming with joy and happiness. It's terrible and very hard to bear.

"Some people would give anything to be locked in this cage.

" "Because they haven't been in it yet. They'd quickly grow sick of it.

" "Like freedom to you?"

"Freedom? What I found here isn't freedom. It's another cage called work.

" "So these people are also in captivity? Tell me, who then is free?

" "You.

" "Me? Why?

" "Because you're not tied to anyone. If you want, you can go to the ends of the earth!

" "For example, to New Zealand!

" "Exactly!"

"Are you sure I can? If I had the chance, would you talk to me now?

" "I don't know. I'm lost in all this. I don't understand anything anymore. I thought I was right. I wanted to prove I had it. But I guess I was wrong. It was supposed to be so wonderful... But my "freedom" has a very bitter taste..."

She lowered her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'll show you something," he said, and took her hand. "Do you hear?"

"What?" she asked. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

"Whisper.

" "So what?

" "Do you know what makes the trees rustle?

" "That's ridiculous! Who do you think I am? If you want to tell me something, please do. I'm listening attentively. But please, don't play stupid riddles with me!"

"Easy! I mean the wind.

" "It smells nice...

" "What?

" "The wind. It's so pleasant. I like it best when it pushes me in the back while we walk."

"I think that answers your question. It always does what it wants. You can't touch it, let alone trap it."

"You're right."

An old man walked along the gravel road toward town, leaning on a wooden cane. The pebbles crunched loudly under his feet. His heavy breathing could also be heard.

"Have you ever thought about what it's like to be old?"

"I think they're not much different from us. Psychologically, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"They wear their fears like outerwear. We try to hide them at all costs. We're ashamed of them, as if they were a sign of weakness." "

You're right. It's very interesting what you say..."

"I think the difference stems from them learning to understand their fears. They're not afraid of them."

"You know, I'm not afraid of life anymore. Before, I couldn't bear the thought of having to take care of myself one day. But now I understand that you're never alone. There's always someone to help us. Just like you helped me."

"There's nothing to say. But it would be best for you if you went home. Your parents are probably worried."

"I miss them too. This is the first time I've been away from home for so long... I'd love to go back... But I'm afraid to go alone.

" "If you want, I can go with you. Although I don't think they'll be happy when they see the company you've kept."

"Stop it! They always told me that it's not the wealth that matters, but the heart. Yours is pure

gold." "Nonsense! Thieves don't have hearts of gold."

"And you have no other choice! You have to steal. Otherwise, your loved ones would starve."

"Thank you. You know, you're not such a naive and spoiled girl as I thought.

" "Did you mean such a complete idiot? I've changed my mind about poor people too. But I still can't understand how they find joy in life amidst all this misery and hard work..."

"They, like you before, don't know any other world. For them, what they have is enough and very good. They think they're rich." Only when they experience luxury does their life begin to lose its color and become a vast abyss with no way out.

-"Not everything in life can be obtained,

one must rather choose." [Sappho]

-Yes. I think we should go now.

-Okay, but promise me something.

-Yes?

-You'll visit me at least once a week. And you'll take some of my old toys for the little ones.

-Okay.

* * *

The city streets were crowded at noon. They stood on the sidewalk in front of a large tenement house, inhabited by two families. Every now and then, someone would push them. They approached. On the door on the left hung a plaque with the name Mikołajewski, and on the one on the right, Symonowicz.

Marie squeezed Bill's hand tighter. Her heart was pounding. They knocked on the right door. After a moment, a maid opened it.

"Amelia, who's here?" a man's voice came from inside the house.

The woman's eyes (and mouth) were wide open. After a moment, she regained her composure and joyfully shouted,

"Sir! Miss Marie has returned!

" * * *

Everyone was overjoyed. Mother burst into tears, and it was impossible to explain to her that it was all over, that everything would be alright.

Bill stood in the corner of the room, forgotten by everyone and a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. The house was very tastefully furnished, in keeping with the latest fashion.

When all the greetings were over, Marie approached Bill.

"Mother, Father. Meet Bill. He was the one who gave me a helping hand and looked after me all this time."

"I'm very pleased," Father said. "But I think it would be better for you if you went home. I think you might feel uncomfortable in luxury.

" "Papa!

" "Please don't interrupt me!" It's kind of you to take care of our daughter, but I don't understand why you didn't bring her home right away.

"It was my decision, Father." "

I asked you not to interrupt me! So how?"

"I wanted to respect your daughter's decision and..."

"And that's why you exposed her to the Element?! That's all. Goodbye, sir."

He gestured to Bill to leave. The boy, flushed, left the apartment. Marie, tears streaming down her face, ran to her room.

Her mother looked at her father with disappointment.

"Don't worry, Ida. She'll get over it by tomorrow. And as for that boy, I'm afraid he had a hand in it. He probably talked Marie into leaving us. She wouldn't have come up with such a preposterous idea on her own.

" "I think you're right, Albin. What are you going to do?"

"The police will deal with Bill. I have more than one debtor there.

" * * *

Bitter tears streamed down Marie's delicate cheeks. She couldn't believe they had treated Bill this way. As if with one word they had shattered everything they had taught me.

A paper ball fell through the open window. Marie unrolled it. It was a letter.

I probably won't see you again... Don't worry about what your father said. It wasn't the first time I've been dragged through the mud.

I want you to know that meeting you meant a lot to me. Let me know someday if you figure out how to open the cage.

And for now, remember that "to be free is to be able not to lie." [Albert Camus]

Bill

She felt sad. Would she really never see him again?

She went to the window. He was leaning against a tree. He was waiting for her to read it. She waved at him. He smiled and left.

"That's ridiculous," she thought. "A cage closed with your own hands seems more bearable..."

* * *

Two streets away, the police were waiting for him. They placed a black scarf around his head. He couldn't see anything. After a while, he heard the splash of water. They were outside the city.

A rough rope wrapped around his neck. He felt no fear. Quite the opposite. He was filled with peace, but somewhere deep within his heart, a tear of bitterness hid.

The summer wind danced through the branches. The police were gone. They had only waited for the last note of life to leave the boy's body. Then they returned home to their wives and children. And they forgot about him.

A bitter tear rolled down his cold cheek. The

red sun was setting lazily behind the city, enveloping it in a bloody glow. Marie, unaware, sat at her desk, pasting a letter from a friend into her diary. The setting sun's rays bathed the pages in crimson. She closed the diary.

The bloody sun reflected for a moment in Bill's sad eyes, then quickly disappeared behind the hills.