Luther did not believe that anyone received God’s forgiveness and redemption from sin through church rituals. Man received ‘free’ redemption through faith alone, he said. This was a belief he arrived at by reading the Bible.”
“So Luther was also a typical Renaissance man?”
“Yes and no. A characteristic Renaissance feature was his emphasis on the individual and the individual’s personal relationship to God. So he taught himself Greek at the age of thirty-five and began the laborious job of translating the Bible from the ancient Greek version into German. Allowing the language of the people to take precedence over Latin was also a characteristic Renaissance feature. But Luther was not a humanist like Ficino or Leonardo da Vinci. He was also opposed by humanists such as Erasmus of Rotterdam because they thought his view of man was far too negative; Luther had proclaimed that mankind was totally depraved after the Fall from Grace. Only through the grace of God could mankind be ‘justified,’ he believed. For the wages of sin is death.”
“That sounds very gloomy.”
Alberto Knox rose. He picked up the little green and black marble and put it in his top pocket.
“It’s after four!” Sophie exclaimed in horror.
“And the next great epoch in the history of mankind is the Baroque. But we shall have to keep that for another day, my dear Hilde.”
“What did you say?” Sophie shot up from the chair she had been sitting in. “You called me Hilde!”
“That was a serious slip of the tongue.”
“But a slip of the tongue is never wholly accidental.”
“You may be right. You’ll notice that Hilde’s father has begun to put words in our mouths. I think he is exploiting the fact that we are getting weary and are not defending ourselves very well.”
“You said once that you are not Hilde’s father. Is that really true?”
Alberto nodded.
“But am I Hilde?”
“I’m tired now, Sophie. You have to understand that. We have been sitting here for over two hours, and I have been doing most of the talking. Don’t you have to go home to eat?”
Sophie felt almost as if he was trying to throw her out. As she went into the little hall, she thought intensely about why he had made that slip. Alberto came out after her.
Hermes was lying asleep under a small row of pegs on which hung several strange-looking garments that could have been theatrical costumes. Alberto nodded toward the dog and said, “He will come and fetch you.”
“Thank you for my lesson,” said Sophie.
She gave Alberto an impulsive hug. “You’re the best and kindest philosophy teacher I’ve ever had,” she said.
With that she opened the door to the staircase. As the door closed, Alberto said, “It won’t be long before we meet again, Hilde.”
Sophie was left with those words.
Another slip of the tongue, the villain! Sophie had a strong desire to turn around and hammer on the door but something held her back.
On reaching the street she remembered that she had no money on her. She would have to walk all the long way home. How annoying! Her mother would be both angry and worried if she didn’t get back by six, that was for sure.
She had not gone more than a few yards when she suddenly noticed a coin on the sidewalk. It was ten crowns, exactly the price of a bus ticket.
Sophie found her way to the bus stop and waited for a bus to the Main Square. From there she could take a bus on the same ticket and ride almost to her door.
Not until she was standing at the Main Square waiting for the second bus did she begin to wonder why she had been lucky enough to find the coin just when she needed it.
Could Hilde’s father have left it there? He was a master at leaving things in the most convenient places.
How could he, if he was in Lebanon?
And why had Alberto made that slip? Not once but twice!
Sophie shivered. She felt a chill run down her spine.
The Baroque
…such stuff as dreams are made on…
Sophie heard nothing more from Alberto for several days, but she glanced frequently into the garden hoping to catch sight of Hermes. She told her mother that the dog had found its own way home and that she had been invited in by its owner, a former physics teacher. He had told Sophie about the solar system and the new science that developed in the sixteenth century.
She told Joanna more. She told her all about her visit to Alberto, the postcard in the mailbox, and the ten- crown piece she had found on the way home. She kept the dream about Hilde and the gold crucifix to herself.
On Tuesday, May 29, Sophie was standing in the kitchen doing the dishes. Her mother had gone into the living room to watch the TV news. When the opening theme faded out she heard from the kitchen that a major in the Norwegian UN Battalion had been killed by a shell.
Sophie threw the dish towel on the table and rushed into the living room. She was just in time to catch a glimpse of the UN officer’s face for a few seconds before they switched to the next item.
“Oh no!” she cried.
Her mother turned to her.
“Yes, war is a terrible thing!”
Sophie burst into tears.
“But Sophie, it’s not that bad!”
“Did they say his name?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember it. He was from Grimstad, I think.”
“Isn’t that the same as Lillesand?”
“No, you’re being silly.”
“But if you come from Grimstad, you might go to school in Lillesand.”
She had stopped crying, but now it was her mother’s turn to react. She got out of her chair and switched off the TV.
“What’s going on, Sophie?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is. You have a boyfriend, and I’m beginning to think he’s much older than you. Answer me now: Do you know a man in Lebanon?”
“No, not exactly...”
“Have you met the son of someone in Lebanon?”
“No, I haven’t. I haven’t even met his daughter.”
“Whose daughter?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I think it is.”
“Maybe I should start asking some questions instead. Why is Dad never home? Is it because you haven’t got the guts to get a divorce? Maybe you’ve got a boyfriend you don’t want Dad and me to know about and so on and so on. I’ve got plenty of questions of my own.”
“I think we need to talk.”
“That may be. But right now I’m so worn out I’m going to bed. And I’m getting my period.”
Sophie ran up to her room; she felt like crying.
As soon as she was through in the bathroom and had curled up under the covers, her mother came into the bedroom.
Sophie pretended to be asleep even though she knew her mother wouldn’t believe it. She knew her mother knew that Sophie knew her mother wouldn’t believe it either. Nevertheless her mother pretended to believe that Sophie was asleep. She sat on the edge of Sophie’s bed and stroked her hair.
Sophie was thinking how complicated it was to live two lives at the same time. She began to look forward to the end of the philosophy course. Maybe it would be over by her birthday—or at least by Midsummer Eve, when
