PART FOUR: THE SUN OF LIGHT CHAPTER XXXVIII: THE GIVEN NAMES

Boooooooooom. Luke’s tale ended thus, like a thunder, like a cannonade. It took me some minutes to realize he had actually ended. With the excuse of the beggar of the thousand names, he had given a review of my recent life as beautiful as harmonious. I would not have known how to tell it, owner of my own facts, as he told it. For me it would be like getting naked. Instead, with his voice, it sounded as if it could not be otherwise, and calmed. I could not but wonder how long it might have taken him to make it, how much beauty! How much effort! His story was intended to accompany me throughout my time, either that was the path. An unexpected gift that life made me. It is not surprising that I have remembered each syllable. But what is your opinion, Protch?

− Do I really have to say it, Nike?

−You needn’t. But I'd appreciate it.

-Luke loves you. And he was frightened...

− I really wish to hug you! You might wonder if I was able to see it. A little more patience, dear friend. That is what follows.

    In my deep concern, I began to talk to him.

− "Did you really finish, Luke?" –I said vehemently.

−“ Really, Nike."

− "It is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard in my life, thank you."

− "That's fine. But I'm still waiting for your literary criticism."

− "Do you really think that it is necessary? Don’t you have enough if I tell you that I will always wear it in me as a garment?"

− "That’s beautiful. And I also know how to say thank you: thanks, Nike! You certainly deserved it. Not only from harsh words lives the beggar. Sometimes Beauty is the result of Commotion and not the other way round. But try, at least."

− "I can’t express myself as you do, My Mate. And I get lost in literary figures. The names and those things..."

− "Sure you can. You haven’t really tried."

− "I would say that your words have been the result of a love so great that it has overlooked many things, Luke. I cannot change what I feel, and less now. So what I'm trying to say is that this beggar of the golden cradle is beautiful... more beautiful than I thought, and by your story I have learned, even if I don't remember my words, but I believe you, that perhaps he never insulted a beggar. I believe, moreover, that all that information is the result of what his storyteller loves him, who it is possible that at this time he is in the dark about the decisions of his King Beggar. I chose the street, My Mate, wait a little more and I tell you. And regarding your story I will tell you that it started with beauty and with beauty it ended. It is clear that you love all your characters and you've even said some things, as I told you, you could not feel. But they are golden to me, as all your fable... Thanks for the effort. You must have spent days of not thinking of anything more and sleepless nights to make it and all that heat will not be in vain..."

− "You are going very well, Nike, and above all you at least can now feel that you are clean: you never insulted a beggar. But literary criticism is still waiting..."

− "Give me time, My Beggar. You know that I am not very skilled in these things. Let's see, your story begins with mists, in your own words, but not with too much fog. About that part of my life, whenever you want I will tell you what there was, but you have managed to see the basic facts. You must understand that I have begun to live now, as you've also read. Then the story grows and you do make your King Beggar look the hero of your tale. A short time to tell two stories that were fundamental in his path and you return with him. You know everything he hides, his most intimate secrets, and his open road. And in both territories you walk with ease. You seem to love him a lot, and I'll take that. His eleven days, his exile, and the most beautiful: his steps on the street and what he caused in that beggar you call Dirty Beggar or Tree-Beggar. At the end, you seem almost in fear, and to leave you more time in this silence is not fair. I think first we should talk about what I decided. And with this poor criticism, Luke, you have to have enough. I was never good in literature."

− "I think that you didn’t really try, but I accept your word. Okay, Nike. I don't want to continue in this uncertainty. What is it that you have decided?"

   He was shivering. He could not hide that he was afraid of losing me.

− "I had four options to choose, Luke. Two of them I dismissed them soon, but they were present and it is also reasonable to tell them to you. I thought about suicide. It is right you know. It was a black idea that I couldn’t rule out despite my promise to your Luminous Beggar. But to remember all of you, one by one, gave me the force that I was looking for. The future would be hard, if there was any, and however, even so, I would go on. Rejected this dismal attitude of the soul, I was momentarily tempted to return. To my golden cradle with its steps and its staircases. But one who has lived in his flesh Beauty and Cold does not know anymore what to do with the handrails and the idea was not really taken into account. Or perhaps what was happening to me was that I didn't want to return. There was nothing for me in this world. I had two ways to go on the street: to get away from you and go to another city to beg, but I could not overcome the icy countenance that option showed me. So at the end I only had an alternative: to face the toughness of following here, with what I thought could be difficulties, because they could come, but I was already a part of your landscape. I've spent two weeks in Scarcity and Hunger, but in the end I chose freedom, and to deal with whatever comes, even a second exile... or your curse."

− "It is never cursed the one you love. You should have seen it, Nike, but it is not a reproach. All of us may have one day that desperate time and enough if we know how to leave. And if that is your decision, I start to breathe. I don't want you to stay away from us again."

− "Thanks, My Mate. I don't know if there will come a time of thorns, but I will stay. Desperation can be a teacher, and however, it can also be an executioner. Today I met its face of fear, but your story has brought me calm. I will stay in this mud, it come what may. I hope to be doing the right thing."

− "It is always right what comes out of the heart. And you must understand that you have arrived to a beautiful but harsh land and which, however, you have chosen, and that you will always find seven people who love you, seven fellow mates. You took the most difficult decision, but the most correct. And it could not be otherwise."

• “Amen”
  
  
  

−It is one o’clock, Protch. I didn't want to leave you with this uncertainty, but I must go. They are waiting for me.

−You know I will not stop you. See you tomorrow, then.

   I left again through the side door and went with those who were awaiting me.

   No doubt, that day, Nike was in Cancer. Certainly, he stayed behind between memories and truths dressed of fancy, defended, however, in the hardness of his shell. They had spoken to him of a past that was not so obscure, with the new light which had illuminated it, and that fed him to follow long in the street, where he wanted to be. A beggar in hardness or prosperity, whatever was the future. He had already learned almost everything about that path and he did not want to stay anywhere else.

   Nike returned early the next morning. As if he was burning to tell what had happened to him after the tale. But a surprise awaited him, which became evident when Protch opened the door. A splendid, unexpected, silhouette was lying on a sofa, tall, imposing, female, unwrinkled still despite the years, to greet him with a heat that he had not suspected.

− Maudie! −cried Nike. And there was a surprise in that cry. But also joy, a great joy. Then he fell into the account that there could be terrible news about Mitch and he retraced the walked path. −But how is Mitch?

−Doctors think that he will live still another couple of months. Or more. But let us not remember inevitable sorrows. I'll be back with him to stay until the end. And how are you, Nike? It is true what Herbert told me. You look happy.

−I know it is hard to believe that you can be happy in my situation, but I am. Well, and you appear to complete my well-being now. And within the logical sadness, you also look happy. But tell me the truth, how would you like me to call you?

−Maudie, as you have always called me. I don't want you to change your wonderful vocative.

− Maudie, no doubt. You are almost the only thing I can save from my childhood and adolescence. Thank you for always being there. If I haven’t told you before, I tell you now. What a joy that you let me love you as I love you! You allow me, don’t you?

−It’s a pleasure to come home and hear you, Nike. And about your tale, I'll tell you something of it I know and that is the reason why I decided to come, because I had to see you. Herbert told me a lot on the phone and now here, at home, just prior to Luke’s tale. Yes, I know them all and for your happiness I will tell you that I even love them now. Then I must have fallen asleep. Would you mind starting again there?

• Do you mind, Protch? –but I knew his answer. 

-Of course not.

−Then I shall start again, at the moment in which you are sitting comfortable.

   They sat by the fireplace, as if they already knew without hesitation that it was my favorite place to tell my story. I started again the tale so many times I've told: "Once upon a time there was a beggar who was born in a golden cradle"...

   Booooooom. I finished Luke’s tale for the second time, but it wasn't the same. I checked that Maudie looked at me with a soft rain in her eyes. The intuitive woman remained where ever. She had seen inside and out, and her tears were the prize that I expected. And then she spoke:

−Certainly he must love you. It is something very beautiful.

−I think you know many things, Maudie.

−Nike... I don’t know how long after you come here as a beggar. It is clear that you stayed, but I would say, that after his fine words, it could not be otherwise.

−I love you for your successful deductions. I stayed, Maudie. And in the best of places. And the surprises had not finished.

─ "Luke ─I suddenly asked- which are the codes and why no one has told me?"

─ "They are not told to the uninitiated, Nike. And we could not know if you stayed. But you are already one in the Torn Hand and I'll tell them you as soon as you wish. Although I suspect that you somehow know them."

─ "Not all, and not in chronological order. Please, My Mate."

─ "First I have to let you know another thing. What have you understood or do you understand by the Demoniac Trinity?"

─ "I'm not sure... I know that it is Compassion, Charity and Sin, but I don't know how to place them."

─ "Nike... They are only three and Lucifer is God inverted, begin at the end of the first three gifts from the universe. Thus, Sin becomes the opposite of Liberty, do you understand?"

─ "But then Compassion is the opposite of Wisdom. Was it not the opposite of Commotion? And why they are now only three and are not also eight?"

─ "All theology is imperfect. But in this case it's a Trinity, and I seem to recall that the heart of that word is number three, not eight, even though you even dream with that number, living with us. In terms of opposites, what would you say that it is the opposite of night?"

─ "Logically, the day."

─ "Of course. But what part of the day: dawn, noon, or that starry twilight that is almost night again?"

─ "That is more difficult. I would say it is the time in which the sun is shining more bright, but I'm not sure."

─ "Do you see? It is not easy. The night is the opposite at the same time of the dawn where it dies and of midday. The same happens with Compassion, stigma of the beggar. It is the opposite of Commotion, but it opposes Wisdom when it's a Demoniac Trinity, when the information is not enough."

─ "I see that the information is important. You've named it several times in your story. I don't know, but it should be another gift from the universe. Anyway, I think I have it clear, and in any case, continue, please."

─ "On the one hand, we have too much information and on the other hand, we have too much darkness. I don't know where to put it, Nike, but it is important... perhaps a part of the eight signs. But, what does the word sin mean for you?"

− "Let me think about it, Luke. Asked so suddenly, I would say... can it be something that is wrong or that is wrongly done?"

− "But what is wrong also has been called error, evil, offense, crime, what is the difference then? I will tell you at least what I think, because I still see you in the dark. Let’s see. To kill, for example, is something that is evil, I would almost say that objectively, but we all know that thanks to a well known guardian who sometimes sleeps, and nobody better than me to tell you: conscience. But killing is a crime, lying to the one you love, for example, is not even a crime, but it is evil. Then, what is sin? I would say that it is simply what God, subjectively, has decided it is evil, whether it is or not shared by men, therefore it is an empty word, empty unless for he who does not believe in gods. Many things that are beauty have gotten in "sin" and only a capricious God, a God I would say without conscience or someone who speaks, as usual, in his name, but without knowing Him, has wanted, arbitrarily, that they are wrong. Do you share what I think?"

─ "Definitely I do. Luke, now I remember another question I wanted to make you some time ago: why all stories should be told twice at least?"

─ "Everything has to do and somehow it will be good that I am the son of a priest. Take the Scriptures as a paradigm. There is a story of floods, judges and kings that is only told once. There is another one, on the other hand, that is told, if you do not take into account the Apocryphal Gospels, four times. Love radiates in all its pages and the God they speak about is not now as strict. The first part is harder; the second is, say, more unobjectionable. Perhaps because four thoughts become harmonious; perhaps because there is more clarity where there are more opinions. See my story, for example. If you did not tell now to anyone and the words did not change and something of the story is not transformed, it would end up sooner or later being for you Luke’s gospel and it would be just as dangerous. How much better it is that all stories are told twice at least, Nike. It loses then what it might have of dogmatic."

─ "Do I have your permission then to tell others your tale?"

─ "It is yours, my friend. It has been made because of you and for you. You can use it as you please. I would never be against your telling to other people."

─: "Can I ask you what you believe in, Luke?"

─ "Sometimes... just sometimes, I think I can hear God and I believe in his existence. I feel Him in the murmur of the sea, in the nakedness of stars, in the thrill of the son who comes to life, in the words of love. Now I think I can notice him in your nervousness, which follows, calmer, but it continues, and you move me, Nike, what do you believe in?..."

─ "In the star Regulus. As you can see, I believe in what I have not yet seen. And in the faith of the beggars, and that is enough for me... sometimes also, a little in the tale Mistress Oakes told me. It is not easy to say that I only believe half of it, I cannot get away of its beauty..."

─ "Beauty... that is the path. If God exists, he is certainly beautiful. God-Fate didn't need to write himself in a book. Others did it for him. I do not judge them, but I can't believe in them. God is on the horizon, in our hearts, not in a few stained lines of a few stained pages. And if man has not been allowed to create, he can at least re-create, and that is what we have been doing. Do you have it a little clearer?"

─ "Perhaps. It is not easy to say yes when somebody speaks of theology, but I think so."

─ "By the way, My Mate. Forgive the diversion, but you must be hungry and I keep a couple of chocolate bars in my pockets. Today it is time to eat. Light a moment your lighter."

─ "Thanks, Luke."

─ "When you are ready, we shall continue without light... But in fact, Nike, we've strayed from your initial question. The codes... and already it is clear that you are one of us. I'll tell them you when you ask me."

─ "You can start."

─ "I do not know who the idea came from, but the first three also come with the Demoniac Trinity in the queue. So I will tell you what they belong to and what it is against. And in this case they are eight again, though it is very possible that you have imagined that."

─ "1) With Liberty, against Sin. Be ruled by the laws of the beggars, insofar as possible. Because they are not dogmatic and they can be altered. That is why we must learn when a law is asking to be modified. The universe also rectifies when necessary. Live with the codes in your mind, but respect the Liberty of others. Invent the laws with a conscience and do not forget that you are a beggar. And remember that everyone has come to the street following a chronological order, revere it.

─ "2) With Horror, against Charity. Don't try to transform those living on the street. Most won't get away from that path and they will not abandon it. They are there because they want to or because they cannot do anything else. You can, if you will, try to improve their lives, but not get them away from this path."

─ "3) With Wisdom, against Compassion. Try to understand the heart of a beggar. But if it is possible, learn without asking. Try that reasons are understood with a look, without speaking, because words can be painful. And do not say too much about what you think, how much better it could be not to add anything unnecessary."

─ "4) With Dignity. But if there is dignity in your thinking, it is not good that you hide it. Talk then! You will know that what you think is ok because it will come to you as in a fit of clarity the soulful voice of Urgency."

─ "5) With Greatness. Always follow the flame of solidarity among beggars. Don't let them feel cold; give them your warmth, your blanket, the best of you. Or words if you do not have a different fire. Share your food with them, and if there is no alternative, then share your hunger."

─ "6) With Clarity. Respect the indignity of your fellow mates, their stories, their roads... Remember that yours may be similar. Take care of not delving in their privacy and not asking embarrassing questions. It is very important to leave him alone living what he has to live on his first day on the street. That is why you cannot be present when he returns, because it may be that his experience has been bitter and he will not feel comfortable enough to share his experiences with anyone."

─ "7) With Beauty. Anyone who you want to open your heart for, give him your friendship. But do not accept alms coming from a friend. Something different is the invitation. And it is not necessary that you improve conditions you have not been asked to improve."

─ "8) With Commotion. Live with them like them. Live as a beggar among beggars and never be ashamed of your condition."

─ "That’s how I remember them, Nike. It may not be literal, but those are more or less the eight."

─ "They are beautiful, Luke. And they have a philosophy. Now that I know them, I'll try to memorize them and respect them. Thanks, My Mate." 

─ "Are there still any more questions you want to make?"

─ "There are. Why do you constantly repeat that the narrator is only almost omniscient?"

─ "You see. It always seemed to me, as least, presumptuous, to believe that a narrator can know even the most hidden of the thoughts of his characters. And there is something that escapes him which his reader or his listener in this case, is able to see. You will see it better with a single example. It was easy, very easy, to sum two ideas together, as it is a favorite expression of yours, taking into account only the beginning of my story. But I didn't see it. And you did. It was as simple as that, among his many names, I could have called the beggar of my story The Beggar of the Golden Cradle. But it was you who realized, and then, with your permission though I didn’t ask you, I used it once in the story. A narrator, however conscious he might be and however much he loves his characters, always overlooks something that only he who reads him or hears him comes to perceive. Because as the star Regulus, in which I also believe although I have not seen it yet, it is still far December, to believe in some truth you may have to wait for its time to come. Is it any good for you what I say?"

─ "It is. And I feel something that moves me, but still I do not know what it is."

─ "It is Urgency, Nike. Something that you'll see sooner or later and you will need to say. I can know what it is, but I will wait for you to see it. And don't be afraid, it will be mature when it arrives and it will be the right thing."

─I had then no more questions for Luke. But so much asking has reminded me one question that long ago I am intrigued about. Maudie, you were the one who called me Nike, may I know why? And no matter the suppositions I've been able to do or whether my interpretation is correct.

─I believed in a fate for you different from that of your father. Let me mention him once, because I know that with Protch you've already named him. I saw you unhappy, lying to yourself on fundamental issues. But I had faith in that boy. I knew that sooner or later you would follow your fate and would be happy. Your name is Nicholas, and Nike could well be your nickname, even though no one has yet dared to vary your name in this way. And yes, Nike, it is what you think. Forgive me for remembering a goddess, not a god, but I am a woman. Suddenly I associated it with the Greek goddess of victory. In any case, it was a very successful baptism, because then everyone began to call you thus. I hope that the nickname pleases you, because if it is a mistake, I can no longer amend it.

─Thanks, Maudie. And fear not, I like the name whereby I am known by everyone, at least by all those who love me, and that is enough. Thank you for the given name. And so I remember again and return to that unspeakable night.

   Maude, as Protch called her, or Maudie, as she was called by Nike, seemed adorned of halos. And she is undoubtedly Alphecca or Gemma, alpha of the Northern Crown, the pearl, as her white skin, her bones, as her splendid Nordic figure. Always beside Arcturus, of Bootes, always beside Protch, because they had walked together the long journey of years, because they loved each other.

   At that time Nike offered Luke another cigarette. Soon they would have none, as sometimes they have no food, but the beggar lives the gifts as long as they are offered, even if they have to finish.

─ "But in any case ─Luke was saying in the smoke we were making─ I am not your hagiographer, My Beggar. Maybe because you, fortunately, are not a saint and I don’t want you to look like one. The story I've told is just a song that you needed to hear. Nothing more."

─ "My Mate, your part has been beautiful, but don't you think that now is the time that I am also completely sincere? I didn't speak meaninglessly when I told you that my effort would be appropriate to yours."

─ "Speak if that is what your heart is telling you, Nike. But remember that I do not demand you."

─ "It is clear that you have seen many things about me, and I am not going to be a coward now. At this point I think that you're on my side, and in any case, there are things I want to say and I feel that the time has come. You see, Luke. I'll never know if I fell in love with Simon, my master of horses. And never will I know if my grandfather suspected it, but anyway, he was the first man that I noticed, but he was too little time at my house and I will never be sure. Perhaps my first love was John, your Luminous Beggar, but at that time I could not see it. I knew it then when I no longer loved him. Too late. He had my heart and now he has my secrets that only he and you now, because of his betrayal, know. But I also believe, at this time, it has been for good, and I forgive him. He couldn't really do anything else. In that darkness I was when your light reached me and I fell in love with you. Now you know."

─ "Thank you for your sincerity, My Mate, which I did not ask you, whether or not it is true what I figured out. And let it be, if you want, you don't have to be so naked."

─ "At this time I have no problem in being naked, and less with you."

─ "Thanks again."

─ "Luke, it is possible that it is reaching me, Urgency. It is disconcerting if I am right, I don't know how it can be, but it is what I feel."

─ "You're possibly right. Urgency, if it is genuine, sometimes disconcerts. Say what you feel, Nike, and fear not: whatever it is I won't get annoyed."

─ "They were not just words to adorn a story that I find, as I have already told you, beautiful. Because I think I can see that... that it is true: that you love me. And I think that your story was only a very original way to make love to me."

─ "That is exactly what I've been doing. And I expected that you saw it long ago, My Mate. Urgency is once again correct. I love you, Nike. But to make love to you in the other way, I still should ask you for permission. ”

─ "Holy heaven. I don't know whether I should rejoice or cry. Since you are also the one who said that the Sacred Couple will not break and that I don't want it to break. And it is true. But if so, may I ask you since when?"

─ "Since we returned from the street the first day I had the honour to go with you. You moved my heart, My Beggar, which has never been the same. And I could not tell you before. I really hoped that you would see it sooner or later because I do not know how to disguise my feelings and remember that sometimes we are betrayed by the same traitor. Nike, My Mate and My dearest Beggar, I told you that the Sacred Couple would not break and it may be true if you wish, but that now is not the question, but I love you and I cannot do anything to prevent it."

─ "Luke, My Mate, I don't know what will happen now, but I won't use a morbid tone, a tone with which you're getting used to listen to me, because the street is getting, day after day, that I shudder. I will tell you as I still haven’t told you, even if you know it already. It will be high and clear, with light... again my old lighter will help us and I will tell you with its clarity and looking you in the eye: I love you! And I have enough with that to feel happy: to love you and that you don't blame me is all I want, but let me ask you something delicate: keep in mind where you come from and where you are. I don't see any solution to this but you have dared to say that you love me and your story is a love song of a man who has made himself. Still do you think that there is something of the old bald man?

─ "I do not usually think about it to be able to sleep every night. And anyway, thanks, Nike. I also believe that the bald man died and may him rest in peace. I am now what I previously hated: I am a beggar, and although I love a woman as my life, at this time I also love a man. Life is ironic, but perhaps that is why it is worth to be lived."

─ "But where does this take us?"

─ "To happiness or misery, it depends on what you later decide. Because I also said that the surprises that would bring the chronological order had not finished. And there are still things that you don't know, believe me. But let them be. They will come sometime this night in which you have decided to stay. As if you knew that happiness is a sacred gift that only happens once in life. Believe me: nothing will break. But my heart has been moved to yours now. Lucy knows this and, as I also suggested in the tale, she would help to its ripening. We have not, therefore, her opposition. Everything was written, My Beggar. We had to get to know each other and get this far. And I like that you're so masculine, Nike. If I have to love a man, I prefer it. Long ago I imagined the possibility that I could end up loving one, but for that it has been necessary that you move me as you have. And you're right, I was afraid this evening, I had the fear of losing you when I had just known I love you. And let me ask you again a difficult question: what is love?"

─ How could I answer that question? Tell me, Maudie, Protch. Luke had the habit of wanting me, sometimes, to answer unanswerable questions. And since I knew that he loved me, I was more afraid than joyous. What to do so as not to break the Couple which was Sacred for me? I could not imagine. And as to me, until that morning, I wasn't but a sad ship adrift. But there is still much night to tell, and my life would change, would change forever. But it is getting late for me. Those that I have to return with as long as I have breath already know that I am here and at a point in which I can take many hours to tell at least the basics of that wonderful night. And now you are about to eat. So for once I can break my habit. Yes, my friends, because I so like to call you. Today I have decided that if you wish, I can stay to eat. Something hot, that I hardly remember the taste of something hot.

─You make us happy, Nike, well you know ─said Protch─. You will eat then, and at the end, with us. Coincidentally, today we have your favorite meal, if you still like rice so much. We will add some meat so you better warm up. You give me happiness, beggar, with this little detail. You know that long ago I wished it. We will eat all three together then. Let me prepare it. We are going to the kitchen. And you can keep talking, if you wish.

   Maudie cooked pretty good, but the rice was speciality of Herbert Protch, who once more took care of preparing it, and this time he wanted to do it better than ever, as he had a very special guest, a man he had learned to love and respect. Meanwhile, as he cooked it, Nike continued telling the most important of the night, already October 20.

─"What is love?" –Luke then asked.
-"If I answer from my experience, My Mate, I'll tell you it's crazy. Something that alters your nerves and makes the lover look sick. It has reached me, but it is inconvenient. It is something, then, that is not always right."

─ "Nike, whatever it is, sincere love is never inconvenient, and less when, as in this case, it is reciprocated. You and I can be, but you're still in the dark and don't see it, a second sacred couple. Give time to your heart to assimilate what I say. But I don't want to lose you now that I've found you and I feel what I feel. Look at the path we have followed to be where we are and the names that we have given to each other on different days. First we called ourselves twins, when we saw that our paths were similar, because we did not like where we had walked, and honestly, we didn't love ourselves at all. We then called us brothers, and that sincere word already announced that we would follow the same path together. Then it was the most beautiful name: friends. A poignant and sacred word that has never been broken. Whatever happens, we will continue to be friends. You then ran a smokescreen that wouldn't let my identity to be seen and you called me man, and however strongly you loved me I could see that your eyes or your wisdom did not cloud. After a few days, first in a meal that we did not touch, we called ourselves one to the other beggars. And the name shook us. But most beautiful it was the one which later would come. On the same day we already called ourselves mates. And in that word we founded our relationship again. And I think that we will always be. Now we have just given each other the seventh name, beautiful as it should be the rebirth of the stars, as to see them after a few months with their absence again: my love. I haven’t told you yet, but it is my name for you. Each couple will have their vocative. I call Lucy, as you must have seen, simply, or nothing less, than my darling." 

─ "Luke, believe me, I'm not going to break, even now, your wonderful couple.  But I love to hear you. I will not deny that your words now, as before in the tale, get rocking me. You've already answered, but let me ask you this again: she, Lucy, you still love her, don’t you?"

─ "More than ever, My Mate. She is the sugar that has sweetened my life, and you must not fear: I think at this point I can surely say that I will love her always. But my heart doesn't understand number one as the correct number. I also love you now."

─ "Is that the reason why you've been weird lately?"

─ "Have you also noticed? Yes, surely. I had many decisions to take. I admit that these days I've been somewhat absent. On the one hand, I was trying to fix the story that I have told you, fix it and, of course, create it in my head. On the other hand, it was not easy to find a solution to all this madness. But even if you take long to see it, I think I have found it. I apologize if these days you've believed that I am not the same, if my affection has not come to you clearly because I will always love you, Nike, inevitably; if you have not been able to see that I loved you. But finally you know that you move me not only as a mate, not only you move me as a beggar. Also I love you as a man. In the story the language could have been different, but I wanted my love for you to be seen and apparently I’ve succeeded. You have not asked, but as I have said to you, my story was really born the day that you blessed little Paul-Regulus. Don't ever cry, Nike. You still cannot see it, but never again you will have to cry for him. I felt that day I had to cradle you somehow. But it began to take root a little earlier. You came in summer and I thought that you and I could swim naked, together, in the lake. But I feared that you were afraid, say, that your equator could grow before my nudity and did not tell you anything..."

− "Luke, wait, sometimes I don't know if I am able to see your metaphors. Are you thinking the same thing as me when you talk about my equator? Say, unequivocally, that you speak of a part of my body that could grow and betray me?"

− "Well, it could happen, isn't it? And I wouldn't want to see you in that trance. That’s why we didn’t swim in August. Now it would not be important, and also now my equator could grow and betray me. At this time, it would only be something tender, and shared."

   The night continued with its many surprises, but at that time the present again stubbornly claimed its place. The rice was ready. On this occasion, Nike, almost as for the first time in his life, helped to lay the table, and Maudie and Protch seemed to understand it and did not oppose. It was a new symbol that Nicholas Siddeley was no longer there nor did he seem to return, and that the beggar had taken his place. They felt the ghost of the old Lord wandering through the house. He came down from the upper floors to sit comfortably in the dining room. It was the skeleton of a man who had made love with Miss - or Mr. - Misery, who bathed with her - with him - in the same mud, disgust, trash, rot, and had come out happy and strengthened. The ghost was returning to his former strongholds and went through them as on tiptoe. Now he had been installed in the dining room and occasionally cast surreptitious glances at the door that separated it from the palace, as if a miracle was still possible. He sat down to eat with Maudie and Protch, who did not want to look at him but could not avoid seeing him. He seemed to have forgotten how the lords eat, accustomed to the cold food, to customary hunger, to sit down and eat with the humble ones. But Nike wasn't a ghost, because you could tell that what he did was real. There were no forced gestures, everything was natural, as a new skin that had replaced Mr. Siddeley’s old one. That perhaps, for normal and habitual, the image was surprising and it sometimes terrified. And the spectrum spoke loud again to continue telling his story.

− "But there is more, much more, My Mate, you still can't see and perhaps it is the time to talk about it−Nike continued telling having his snack repeating Luke’s words−. You already have too much darkness and too much despair. Perhaps now the chronological order can bring you at last a light with the calm that it often accompanies it. In any case, tonight you have to decide where you prefer to make your bed and with whom, because long it is since all is written and stories, if they are authentic, never finish and often have unexpected continuations. Happiness or misery await you, but this time it is also in your hands to choose which one you prefer to catch."