Le Desespoir: The Cursed Paradise

His Love, His Life

"Hélas ! vers le passé tournant un œil d'envie.

Sans que rien ici-bas puisse m'en consoler,

Je regarde toujours ce moment de ma vie

Où je l'ai vue ouvrir ses ailes et s'envoler !"

"What does it say?" the women asked after Sam read it out loud.

"It says, Alas! Turning an envious eye towards the past; inconsolable by anything on earth. I keep looking at that moment of my life when I saw her open her wings and fly away," Sam translated for them.

"It's a part of a popular poet's work in 1843. It’s Victor Hugo's À Villequier. It's a poem for the dead. Whose tomb was that?" Sam asked Caroline who scanned the picture for the name.

"Johann de Lancret," she answered.

"Okay," Sam murmured as he searched for a book. "Here," he said as he picked up a hardbound book and flipped through the pages. "Found him," he announced. "Johann de Lancret. Born on February 6, 1818; died in 1843 at the age of 25." 

"Does he have a picture?" Caroline asked and Sam turned to the next page.

"Ooooh, a handsome guy," he commented as he passed the book to Jessica whose eyes widened upon seeing the photograph.

"Oh my God, Caro, Sam," she whispered as cold sweat covered her flesh. "This is him, this is the man in my dreams," she said.

"What?" Sam took the book back and stared at the picture of the handsome young man. "This is him?"

He couldn't believe they were able to identify him this fast.

"Yes," Jessica nodded and swallowed hard. "S-Sam…h-how did he die?" she asked, although somehow, deep inside her heart, she already knew the answer.

"He died in a fire," Sam answered, his face showing his worry as he remembered Jessica’s dream of the blazing inferno which killed her. "He jumped into the fire to die with his trapped lover."

====

Back in Le Desespoir, the night was already so deep. In one of the rooms, two souls lay on the bedrolls they had brought with them, both in deep slumber. However, one of them started to stir, his eyes moving under his lids rapidly as if trapped in a dream.

She was as glorious as the sunrise I so loved to watch.

Standing on the very boulder where I had first seen her, her arms spread wide as she welcomed the wind. The summer breeze gently blew her long, curly hair backwards, creating a fiery halo. She was the perfect picture of carefree innocence, and I felt my chest swell with pride knowing that the beautiful creature before me was mine.

As if feeling my intense eyes on her, she turned to me and smiled, her dimples showing at the corners of her sensual mouth, exposing her slightly crooked teeth which I found very unique.

"Jehan," I heard her call to me, her husky voice causing havoc in my already semi-aroused state.

"Yes?" I asked as I put down the paintbrush that I had been holding. We were both in our little rendezvous near the spring where we always watched the sunrise together.

We made love all throughout the night. When it was nearly dawn, we held hands and came here just to enjoy the magnificent beauty of the brilliant colors of the sun as it rose from the eastern part of the vast estate people called Le Paradis, the heaven.

But today, it was different. I had found myself wanting to immortalize the moment wherein the rays of the sun would touch her hair and skin, making her glow. I took my tools with me and, since dawn, had been sitting on this very spot trying to capture her likeness on canvas.

"Jehan," I heard her call me once again and was surprised to find her standing just before me. "You were lost in thought. Are you thinking about your brother?" she asked with a knit forming in between her brows, showing her worry.

Things hadn't been well between my older brother and I, but Johann wasn't who I had been thinking about at the moment so I shook my head and smiled at her.

"No. I was thinking about you," I answered truthfully in which she made a face expressing her suspicions, and I couldn't help pulling her against me. She was just too adorable.

"Oh! Han, that's so great!"

I smiled as I heard her call me by my nickname. It had always been a cause for smiles between us as it sounded very similar to her name as well. My love stared at my work with amazement. Her brown eyes were wide, her luscious lips slightly opened as she stared at her likeness surrounded by the dazzling sunlight.

"Han, you should be a painter," she whispered her suggestion to me, and I tightened my hold on her as I buried my face at the crook of her neck, smelling her fresh scent.

I felt happy that she praised my work. Painting had been my passion and I had aspired to become an accomplished painter not so long ago. But, upon meeting her who had always been so fragile, I had a change of heart.

"Han, I really think you should be a painter," she suggested to me once again as she turned in my arms and looked at my face.

"I don't want to," I told her with a pout, and I had to stifle my mirth when I saw her pout in return.

"But you have so much talent. It's a waste."

I totally could understand why she was insisting for me to be a painter. I wouldn’t have aspired to be one if I didn’t know I had the skill for it. In fact, when I was still in Paris, my teacher had also praised my work, and so I was aware of my own caliber. Nevertheless, it was an aspiration I was no longer interested to achieve. I had more pressing things to do.

"I don't want to," I told her once more. "I'll become a doctor instead so I can take care of you," I continued as I playfully tweaked her nose.