That evening, Ophelia prettied herself up extra special, wearing her dark-blue silk gown down to the dining hall. She went alone. She knew that Nicholas despised her dining with Ludwig, so therefore, there was more of a reason to go. Chloe had left the Inn hours earlier and was now dining with her new suitor, a lively young and wealthy count. Ophelia was not exactly upset with Chloe, she had no real reason to be, for it was Nicholas who was causing her great pain.
The dining hall stood desolate that evening, hardly a soul dining. Most people were still in the city and would not be back until at least 11pm from their operas and restaurants. Ophelia frowned when she saw that even Beethoven was not there. She stood beside his table for a few minutes until a waiter came up beside her with a bow.
“ May I be of any help to you, Madam?” he asked her, draping his server’s towel over his forearm, awaiting an answer with a pen and paper at hand.
“I’m just curious as to whether Herr van Beethoven has come to dinner yet?” She said, still frowning.
“Pardon?” The waiter laughed. “The foul old bastard has not been here all day and thank heavens he has not! He is a terrible, terrible man! I advise you, Madam, to keep away from him as best possible.”
“Oh, not you too! You are all impossible!” She groaned, rolling her eyes at his warning. “All right, well thank you anyway and could you please bring me out a bowl of soup?”
“Yes, of course Madam. A bowl of soup, coming right away.” And the man darted off into the kitchen. Ophelia took a seat at Ludwig’s table and heaved a sigh. Either she was blind or everyone else was insane. She liked Ludwig, he was kind.
A few moments later, the waiter returned from the kitchen with a bowl of soup at hand along with a glass of wine. Ophelia thanked him and rose from her seat, taking up the food in her hands and leaving the dining hall.
In the lobby, she greeted Herr Schmidt and his cat Mignon. Herr Schmidt smiled. “And where are you going with that soup, Ophelia?” He asked her. She put the food on the desk and gave Mignon a pat on the head.
“Herr van Beethoven is ill.” She replied. “I’m taking this food to him.”
Herr Schmidt frowned. “Beethoven’s ill? For pity’s sake there is always something wrong with that poor man.” He hesitated a moment. “But, why are you taking dinner to him, Ophelia?”
“He’s a dear person. I am his friend.”
“Beethoven? You must be fooling! That man has no friends whatsoever. He’s always shouting and yelling, trying to cause deafness for the rest of us, I assume. He’s a scoundrel…Whatever are you going to do to change his terrible ways?”
“I’m kind to him and I understand. He deserves compassion in his life just as much as anyone else does. He’s very ill…If I were to be sick he’d do this same thing for me.” She peered down at the soup on the table and rescued it as Mignon’s paw came batting towards it. “Well, I should be getting this up to him.”
“If you insist upon it, my dear.” Herr Schmidt replied, shrugging his old shoulders and taking up the cat in his arms. “Frau Schmidt will be looking for this little devil anyway, referring to the cat of course. You’re a good girl Ophelia. Please stay that way.” With that, he gave her a slight bow and left for his apartment, Mignon now perched upon his shoulder. Ophelia laughed and went up the grand staircase with the hot soup and fresh wine.
Just as she came upon Ludwig’s door, she felt a strong hand rest on her arm. She rotated on her heel with surprise, almost spilling the wine on her dark-blue gown.
“And now he has you serving him? No doubt he’s in bed. Shall you serve him in there also?” Nicholas growled, taking the wine from Ophelia with disgust. He took a sip. “He has you wrapped around his finger! You’re becoming his little slave girl.”
“Nicholas, let go of me.” She pulled away. “That is utter nonsense that you speak. I am doing this on my own.”
“You’re lying…lying just as you shall with him. I know what he’s after and you are not that kind of woman, Ophelia. Men like him are always out for a little something extra from young, pretty, pink ladies.”
“That is so cliché and an insult! How dare you insult Ludwig and I? How terrible.”
“You disgust me. I thought you had better taste then this…”
"Just shut up about it. I'm sick of listening to your insults."
"I wasn't saying that you have bad taste in men, though you do, I was saying that you have bad taste in wine, and this you do horridly." He pursed his lips together and handed Ophelia the glass of tart liquid. "Where did you get this?"
“You are such a pompous ass, Nick.” She mumbled, turning to the door and knocking loudly. She ignored his question without any regret for she hoped Nicholas would receive the same nasty wine while he dined. She thought the sour substance could surely match his attitude. The door slowly opened and Nicholas stepped behind Ophelia with surprise. Ludwig stood there, his dark hair mangled from sleep, and his skin a slight yellow hue. He wore a forest-green robe, tied tight around his stout frame and a maroon scarf bunched around his neck. He smiled weakly on seeing Ophelia’s face and he bowed.
“Good evening, Madam.” He said, taking her free hand in his. His hands were cold and balmy. She shivered slightly. “I’m truly sorry for my no show in the dining hall, but I am much to weak to eat there. Being in my poor state one cannot bear that torment.”
She nodded understandingly and held up the bowl of soup with a smile. “I brought you this.” She said. He looked down at the light brown liquid and chuckled.
“For me? Oh, that is very kind.” He paused a moment, looking back into his apartment at the mantle clock above the fireplace. “I did not realize that it was so late. I should have written to you. Would you care to come in?”
She smiled and nodded at the deaf composer and he smiled in return, taking the soup off her hands and gesturing for her to follow behind him. Ophelia glanced back at Nicholas who stood at the top stair and she gave him a grin of triumph. She entered Ludwig’s apartment, shutting the door behind her without another word to an astonished Herr Angelis.
The dim-lit room seemed rather spacious but entirely plain. A large rectangular oak table and a variety of chairs were to the right of the room and Ophelia noticed there lay, writing-books and lead pencils, music-paper and pens, a small silver pocket watch, a metronome, an ear-trumpet made of brass, and a diversity of other things. To the left of the table and chairs, a small bed stood backed against the wall of peeling white-paint. The bed’s comforter was completely covered with music scores.
Ophelia could not help but chuckle as Ludwig stacked the papers on the table and bed, along with shoving dirtied clothing under his blankets. He looked at her and shrugged his broad shoulders with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry for the untidiness of my apartment. The maids have not, and I dare say, fear to enter.” He gestured to the armchair by his bed. “Please, sit down. Would you like anything to drink? Tea, Coffee, Wine?”
Ophelia shook her head negatively as he handed her a slate-board and a piece of chalk.
“Surely you must have a desire for one of the above, no?” He cried, acting as the concerned host. “Do you enjoy coffee?”
She nodded. “Yes, very much.”
“Perfect my dear. Then coffee it is. Please make yourself at home while I make you some.” He retreated into an adjoining room, beginning to make a clatter and crash of silverware and china. Then he returned minutes later with a cup and saucer, handing it to Ophelia with a shaking hand. She thanked him and he sat down on his bed, stopping to watch her in the dim candlelight.
Her hair shone in the light as if it were made from strands of pure gold and her pink lips pursed together as she took the first sip of her coffee, keeping her gaze to the floor. She knew Ludwig was staring. A small curl fell down her forehead at the most inappropriate time, and she carelessly pulled it behind her ear.
“How is your coffee?” He asked her finally, taking a spoonful of soup. “I hope it is to your liking. I put 60 beans per cup, sort of a habit of mine. We all have different tastes for coffee. I myself prefer crème in it. That is what I put in yours. Is that fine?”
She glanced up at him and smiled with a nod of her head. “Yes, fine it is.”
“I am glad you enjoy it. I truly had nothing but coffee to offer anyway.” He chuckled. “I do believe I shall have to go to market soon.” He eyed the Italian cheese and stick of salami by his beside, making a face. “I would offer you some of that,” He pointed to the cheese and meat. “But I don’t exactly believe that it is safe to eat. It has been sitting out for quite sometime.”
Ophelia laughed and leaned back in her chair with comfort. Sitting so near to him made her feel safe and strong. He made her feel good and she enjoyed every moment with him. Everything about Ludwig, the artist, crowned with glory, made her smile. When he spoke, she listened with eagerness, always receiving his thoughts and opinions with great interest. He told her many things that he buried deep in his heart, yet she had said hardly a thing. She had to let her feelings for him escape from the depths of her soul somehow. She had to touch his ill heart with sweet words somehow…some way…but when? It was not appropriate then, so she decided that she would ask questions to hear him speak.
Steeped in her contemplation of him, she entirely forgot the composer’s unfortunate deafness and was just about to say something when fortunately, she recalled the uselessness of her voice. Taking up the chalk, she wrote on the slate in a trembling hand.
“Since I first saw you, I wished to speak with you. How much I longed to just say hello…How much I wished for a chance meeting…and oh, how I received my wish…”Ludwig put on his glasses and squinted at the writing as he read, then he glanced up at her.
“But what prevented you from coming to see me, truthfully?” He asked sensing that she had more to say. She looked away from him, not wishing to say the real reason. He laughed, taking her hand at his bedside. “I am sure of it now. You have been told some amount of antagonistic absurdity. I have been depicted as being a capricious, uncomfortable, and arrogant person, whose music you may indeed enjoy, but who should specifically be avoided. Have you?”
Ophelia nodded her head with guilt without looking up from the dark-wooden floorboards. Ludwig lifted his hand to her cheek, stroking it gently. “My dear,” He paused a moment, letting out a small chuckle. “If the world considers me ruthless because I rarely ever meet people who understand what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling, it makes me out to be a ‘corrupt man’.”
“Many people think you are hostile. You are very unfriendly at times…do you know of your cruelty? Have you no remorse for the things you do? Ophelia wrote, still shying from his gaze. Writing such a question to this god before her made her feel strange and uncomfortable. Had she any right to question his genius in such a way? He read her writing and let out a loud guffaw.
“Have I so many enemies?” He said, smiling. “Yes, I’ve many an enemy to encounter each day of my life, but my body is more of an enemy than anything else. The worst enemies are those that dwell in our minds…Oh, how I dread the thought that they have taken up permanent residence. I long to hear the world, though I know most things said of me are not in my favor.” He paused, getting serious. “Those who think me hostile are idiots. They often do not realize why I appear that way…but you can see and you know. You understand and you are kind. Are you not?” She nodded, half-glancing up into his eyes and he lifted her chin up. “Then I shall get by. I have always been fine in the past. Nothing shall stop me from living my life. True, it is not a very good one, but I’ve learned to cherish certain things…”
Trembling, Ophelia took another sip of her coffee, closing her eyes to keep the butterflies in her stomach as calm as possible. Ludwig took the cup from her hands and set it down on his night table. “You don’t have to be afraid of me, my dear. I will never lash out at you…I’m not a foul old bastard all the time.” He grinned. “Hell, if I were such a bastard, you’d never take a walk with me or ask to dine, would you?” He asked. “Please my dear, calm yourself down.”
Ludwig sat back on his bed, holding his side for a moment and groaning with a deep and nauseating pain. His eyes moved around crazy in their sockets and his other hand clenched into a tight fist at his side. Ophelia jumped to her feet with worry and propped him up on his pillows, covering his body with a blanket. He looked up at her young face with great thanks.
“Are you well? Will you be fine?” She cried in surprise, kneeling at his bedside. He took her hands in his and kissed them gently.
“If you are wondering how I feel, I feel fine. This shall all cease in a matter of time. I’m just experiencing a slight muscle cramp…” He paused, looking out the window to his left. He stared at the small white holes in the sky and sighed with what seemed to be sorrow. “One must wonder how those diamonds began…such starry skies make me feel so useless in the night. They brighten the paths, but I must sleep. How late it must be…I shall not keep you any longer.”
Ophelia rested her head against his chest for a moment, listening with content to the beating of his heart and his labored scratchy breathing. She wished to stay there with him forever, but she knew that was impossible. She sighed, rising to her feet and heading towards the door. He turned his gaze towards her tired face and he smiled. “I wish you could stay, but that would only be a bother for you. You are leaving me then?”
“Yes.” She nodded, sadly. “You need your rest.”
“Take care, my dear. I’ve had such a lovely time with you. I shall pray for you and thank the heavens that you’ve come to me.” He laughed. “I shall never understand why a sweet young girl such as yourself wishes to stay in the company of a gruff old man like me. I suppose it should be left unknown…I’m just thankful that you are my new friend.”
“Yes,” she said. “I shall pray for you too.” She blew a kiss to him and he heaved a heavy sigh.
“Goodnight, Ophelia. Have pleasant dreams. I know that I shall.”
“Goodnight, Ludwig, good dreams and no worries.” Ophelia bowed her head in farewell and left his small apartment in a sorry state. She knew she loved him, but she didn’t know how to tell her beloved genius. Time was slipping away. Beethoven would not be by her side forever and she knew it.
As Ophelia crawled into bed that night, she looked out her window at the stars and heaved a sigh of strange remorse while beginning to sob. Her tears were uncontrollable.
Chapter 9
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