as if a poisonous wasp was perched, boring with a fiery sting down into her marrow. But as there was no wasp to chase away and with the sting getting ever fiercer and her thoughts growing ever more alarming, Christine began to show people her cheek, asking what they could see on it, and again and again she asked, but no one saw anything, and soon no one was willing to be distracted from enjoying the festivity by peeking at Christine’s cheek. Finally she succeeded in persuading an elderly woman; just then the cock was crowing, morning dawned, and all the old woman could see was nothing more than an almost invisible speck on Christine's cheek. It was nothing, the woman said, it would no doubt go away, and went on her way. ‘Christine sought to comfort herself with the thought that it was nothing and would go away soon; but the pain persisted and did not ease, and imperceptibly the little mark grew to become noticeable, and everyone saw it and asked her what was the black object on her face. No one thought it was anything special, but the comments pierced her to the quick, rekindled her gloomy thoughts, and over and over again she was forced to think that the green huntsman had kissed her on that very spot, and that the same fire that at the time and from time to time since struck through her bones like lightning now burned and gnawed continuously there. Sleep deserted her, and food tasted like burning ashes in her mouth. She dashed about erratically hither and thither, seeking relief but finding none, while the pain grew ever more intense, and the black spot grew bigger and blacker, separate dark strands emanating from it, and towards her mouth a bump seemed to be implanted on the round spot. ‘So Christine suffered and thrashed about many a long day and many a long night, revealing to no soul the fear that gnawed at her heart nor what she received from the green huntsman on the spot in her cheek; but she would have sacrificed everything in heaven and on earth to be rid of this anguish. She was by nature an insolent woman, but now she was turning wild writhing in maddening pain.
A
nd it happened that yet another woman was expecting a child. This time there was no great fear, the peasants were even light-hearted; they felt reassured by the thought that as long as they made certain that the priest was there in time, they could defy the green huntsman. Only Christine did not feel this way. The nearer the day of birth drew, the fiercer grew the fire on her cheek, and the more massively the black spot enlarged, thrusting out distinct legs and sprouting short hairs, shiny spots and streaks appeared on its back, and the bump turned into a head, from which what seemed like two glittering eyes flashed in fearsome venom. People shrieked aloud at the sight of 32
Pearl January 2020
It’s not what you look at that matters. It’s what you see. Henry David Thoreau
