The Secret History, margin note 7, Chapter 5
"Deprendi miserum est."
– In the beginning of Chapter 5, when Francis came home after his rendezvous with Bunny to discover Henry in the middle of brainwashing Richard, Henry tried to console his nervous friend in Latin by saying:
"Deprendi miserum est, he said. To my surprise Francis laughed, a humorless little snort."
Here,
I do not stand before a woman, do I? No, I fall into her arms. I change shape to fit each one, to make things snug, as if matching their dreams is the only path I know into their hearts.
I did not say anything. I was always embarrassed by the words sacred, glorious, and sacrifice and the expression in vain. We had heard them, sometimes standing in the rain almost out of earshot, so that only the shouted words came through, and had read them, on proclamations that were slapped up by billposters over other proclamations, now for a long time, and I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of places had dignity.
They were beaten to start with. They were beaten when they took them from their farms and put them in the army. That is why the peasant has wisdom, because he is defeated from the start. Put him in power and see how wise he is.
“They won't get us,” I said. “Because you're too brave. Nothing ever happens to the brave.”
“They die of course.”
“But only once.”
“I don't know. Who said that?”
“The coward dies a thousand deaths, the brave but one?”
“Of course. Who said it?”
“I don't know.”
“He was probably a coward,” she said. “He knew a great deal about cowards but nothing about the brave. The brave dies perhaps two thousand deaths if he's intelligent. He simply doesn't mention them.”
~The end~
He jogs to it and spends minutes reading the papers over and over again. I stand there, watching him, and waiting for his reaction.
He switched to stare at the ultrasound of a small life. A life he and I created.
“So?” I ask carefully. “What do you think?”
“You’re pregnant.” He stares between me and the ultrasound as if to make sure.
“Yes, Aiden.” I cradle my stomach. “I’m carrying your baby.”
“You’re carrying my baby,” he repeats, slowly approaching me.
When he’s within touching distance, I take his hand and place it on my stomach.
It’s still flat, but I can feel the life humming inside me. I can already feel the connection.
He stares at his hand and slowly strokes my stomach.
“We created a life, Aiden,” I murmur. “Are you happy?”
He rips his gaze from my stomach to meet my eyes. “Are you?”
“I’m over the moon. This is the best gift you could’ve given me.” I press my lips to his. “I love you.”
He wraps his arms around me and I squeal as he lifts me off the ground and hugs me. My arms wind around him as he kisses my mouth, my cheeks, my nose, and my forehead.
“You’re the best gift I’ve ever been given, my queen.”
“And you’re mine, my king.”
