AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m here to help,” she said, giving me a huge grin as she swerved into a parking spot.
“You know, I can’t even imagine you in the Victorian era. You just seem to scream twenty-first century.”
“I’m very good at adapting.” She winked conspiratorially, locking the door with her key fob as we walked toward campus.
“I have no trouble believing that at all. Geez, the men must’ve been impressive at those balls. All dashing and dapper in their swallow-tailed evening dress?”
“Hmmph,” she grunted. Her eyes swirled darkly. “Some, yes. But, a gentleman of the gentry in evening dress is the perfect mask to hide the wolf beneath. They weren’t all dashing and dapper.”
We walked along the outer buildings.
“Did you ever marry one of these flirtatious Victorian men? One of the dashing, dapper types?”
I regretted the question as soon as it spilled out of my mouth. I could’ve kicked myself. Her expression turned wistful.
“Yeah. Sure did.” Her eyes grew distant and cold with no further explanation. “I’ll meet you right here afterwards.”
I nodded, ducking into the building. When I glanced back, she’d opened one of those romance novels with a bare-chested hottie on the cover. She was a conundrum, Kat.
I was a little nervous about Latin class after nearly a two-week hiatus. Fortunately, Professor Minga adored me, which made it all that more difficult to outright lie to her, saying I’d had some lingering bug that kept me bedridden. I easily jumped into the lesson, translating a passage of Cicero. Mary was seated at the desk next to me.
“Where have you been?” she whispered as I opened to the passage I was assigned. “Were you really sick?”
I shrugged. “A little,” I half lied, for I had gotten quite a few injuries recently. “I’ve had some personal stuff to deal with.”
Mary accepted that excuse with a nod, focusing back on her work. She wasn’t the nosy type.
I took a deep breath and read Cicero’s words. As I started to scribble the translation in the margin beneath the passage, my hands began to shake. How could I possibly have returned on this day to translate this specific passage? I couldn’t go beyond what was already translated, but just stared down at the words.
Professor Minga stopped by my desk, pushing her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose. Kind, pale blue eyes examined me.
“Is there a problem, Genevieve?”
“No, ma’am. I was just thinking about this passage. Is this correct?”
“Read it to me.”
So I did.
“Be sure that it is not you that is mortal, but only your body. For that man whom your outward form reveals is not yourself. The spirit is the true self, not the physical figure.”
“Perfectus.It seems time off hasn’t made you rusty at all. Why the frown?”
Professor Minga didn’t mince words. She said what she thought, and I liked that.
“I was wondering about the meaning of what Cicero is saying here. About the body and the soul.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, Cicero was a pagan like the rest of the Romans, but he also had high ideals and believed in an afterlife. He often professed that man’s deeds on earth determined the goodness or foulness of his soul and thus affected them in the eternal realm. Here, he is concerned with eternal death if the mortal man abuses his soul through his physical form.”
“Do you believe that, Professor? That the soul can be eternally damned if it is damaged?”
Her nose twitched as she pushed her glasses up another half inch. My heart was in my throat, waiting for her answer.
“In my mind, that would depend upon the person’s intent in doing the damage. Sometimes we are injured regardless of what we say or do. Am I right?”
She had no idea how right she was. I sighed with a sense of odd relief at her cryptic words.
“Right,” I agreed.
