\u201cOh, M De Fenelon\u201d, said the clerk, once he realized, and tried to answer.\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s the story of two giants fighting in the time of\u2026\u00a0\u00a0Let me see if I can remember. No, my memory is gone. All I remember is that they attacked the Flemish together, I believe, I am not sure. Hit him upon the head with the hammer and he fell down.\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Ah, I said, much like Charles Martel, repelling the Moors in the battle of Tours, but in reverse. It is the Moors wielding the hammers. I clapped my gloved hands together (you\u2019ll be happy to know Fenelon has kept me bundled up, especially with the chill and damp winds while traveling through the countryside in the open car) so delighted was I.\u00a0\u00a0But then Nonelef, poor boorish fellow that he is, was keen to be off, and having bought some betises de Cambrai, the well known mint candy of the region, we set out for X, Nonelef teasing me the whole time about my betises- in the silly drawings and puns and antics of mine you know so well. Though he loves me all the same, teasing is the highest form of affection, I’ve always said.**\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u00a0I was ecstatic. The air is brisk here and I am so glad that maman recommended I take some extra blankets on the road.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I suppose you think these are my betises, and perhaps you are right.\u00a0\u00a0You are far smarter, and handsomer, than I.\u00a0\u00a0Your loving poney, Marcel<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
**Please don’t assume I am substituting Nonelef for you. There is no substitute for my Little Poney. Why else would I be travelling in this new car — which is wonderful indeed– and not on horseback, with you. The two of us together clip-clopping along.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
\u00a0I made Nonelef drive back and forth in that new little car chugging up and down the hills back and forth. You should have seen the three towers of the town.\u00a0\u00a0On our way out in the sunset, the spires lit up like swords in the sky. And as we mounted the road, I turned around to watch the sunset, and saw them all lined up, as if they were saluting my departure.\u00a0\u00a0Hail Marcel, they seemed to say. My giants whispering from their Martinville\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
It is now 3 o\u2019clock in the morning. I have not gotten much sleep at all. I woke up with the most exceptional dream.\u00a0\u00a0Time was pounding away, pounding with the hammers used by those Maurs. I was Martin, and I thought of you as I gazed at Martine.\u00a0\u00a0Tears rolled down her face, or maybe it was just the rain, I\u2019m not sure. She was sad. The clock struck one, then two, then on to 12.\u00a0\u00a0On each hour, I feared the next, since the pounding increased, as did the vibrations, the resonance no different than the sensation of an impending attack.\u00a0\u00a0I sensed the compression on my chest, accompanied by the sickening realization that I was so very much alone. That was the sadness.\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I am alone, up here, always with time. And with you, Reydo. But the great divide is the time and the bells\u2019 tolling, sending along the message to the world as we strike them with our hammers that we are beating each other up.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Were it not for you, my little poney, I would be even higher and sadder, with only the interior gears in my range of vision. You have tethered me to the days and hours and minutes. And yet you have freed me to soar on the wings of the cygne\/Signe, far from my room. Why I am here out in the open, enchanted. You have lifted me farther than I had dreamed with your consistent belief in my abilities. Maybe now I shall be able or at least very soon, for I feel that that is true, to prove to you that your confidence in me is well-founded.\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The town is ugly grimy and sooty. I am no longer the past, I am the future, and I am miserable lonely and alone, as says our dear Charles. I am a fleur de mal, I fear, in your bouquet of untold happinesses. Are you doing well? If so, pluck me out. I am your monarch of the clouds, exiled on earth, borne down by giant wings.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Yours- Munscht.\u00a0<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n MP to RH. A letter1902\u00a0 Dear Bunnikuns,\u00a0 With old Fenelon here in Cambrai, on the way to Belgium.\u00a0\u00a0Don’t be cross, I couldn\u2019t resist. he’s taking good care.\u00a0 Charming town, well fortified, many Merovingien remnants which I can scarce believe sit before my very eyes, and so near as almost to touch.\u00a0\u00a0Everything I imagined. When … <\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/prousty101.files.wordpress.com\/2023\/12\/screen-shot-2023-12-20-at-6.02.33-pm.png?w=609\")
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