Chapter 19. The Long-Awaited Victory.

March 19, 1995

— Antoine, dear, have you congratulated your sister on her twentieth birthday yet?

— Yes, Mom, I've already ordered her a gift.

— And what did you order? Flowers, as always?

— You know, Mom, it's our little tradition with Eleonora: every year, to honor the numerical designation of her birthday, I send her a bouquet of nineteen flowers—the number remains unchanged, but the flowers are always different every year…

— And what did you order this time?

— White Ecuadorian roses.

— A symbol of pure and eternal love…

— That's right, Mom… You know how much I love Eleonora…

— But when will you find someone you can love with a slightly different kind of love?.. — her sincerely loving mother asked her son gently, like a child who frantically wants something sweet and slowly creeps up to the table with candy, with indescribable tenderness.

— Mom…

— You are already twenty-seven, Antoine, and so… such questions should already arise in your mind and in your heart: questions of marriage, family, children…

— You know, Mom… I've already explained everything to you… The Almighty and fate, whom, believe me, I fully trust, will make everything as it should be, and I do not intend to rush the approach of such events and results that will not be characterized by truthfulness: if the choice is between speeding up a meeting with someone or waiting for the best, then… there is no choice, at least for me—I value my time, my freedom, and my independence too much, and therefore I do not have the slightest desire to dissipate, and accordingly to devalue the already limited minutes of my own life on those who are not worthy of it… How curious it sometimes is to observe how people languish in search of knowingly doomed relationships and imaginary happiness—it reminds me of a kind of musical, where I, like the great Creator of the Universe… contemplate this chaotic, aimless, although always following a certain script, motionless stirring with special curiosity: in these moments, I always remember my spiritual mentor—Rousseau! As if a ghost, a human spirit, I look at what is happening before my eyes, as well as what, most importantly, is not happening before my eyes: almost all… as you can see, I admit the chance and probability of a different outcome!.. women are cruel—they more often than men talk about love when their hearts do not experience such gentle feelings! In their souls now, the appearance of perishable trinkets awakens the most sincere kind of happiness, especially when they are on their neck and hands—not at all suspecting it, they do not realize that they are the personification of these trinkets on the necks and hands of men: at the sight of a person in whose eyes a response of the immense Universe can be traced, truly gentle feelings are not able to arise in their souls—perhaps it is for this reason that in the eyes of this person, whose essence is a response of the Universe, in the corresponding minutes, not another Universe with a feminine principle is reflected, but only emptiness, for those eyes, like a mirror, consisting entirely of a certain matter, are able to reflect only what for some reason is sent to them?.. Look at modern society—this is a society of stupid formalities and hackneyed templates, where the foundation for both the former and the latter is vice: to be virtuous, and accordingly not like everyone else, means to be despised. Modern society loves nothing so much as obedience to its power, and accordingly submission to the opinion of the crowd—non-compliance with these rules is now called "improper," "wrong," "false," even if this non-compliance not only does not violate all existing social foundations, but also praises and exalts true human virtue many times more than compliance with them… And all this happens in a world where there are no proprieties, where everything is wrong and false?! Or, perhaps, this world has proprieties… has them when naked women are depicted on the covers of trendy magazines? Was it not in a similar way that slaves were studied in ancient times—studied in order to acquire them for one quality or another? Now the world has changed—it has become even more hypocritical, vicious, false, hiding its true nature under the canopy of all kinds of masks: in this world, girls no longer value themselves, for they give their own beauty and charms to all existing men for free, for free, including with the help of those images—earlier, in order to see a girl's tender hand, it was necessary to perform unique, amazing feats… now girls, without the slightest hesitation, give gentle kisses to everyone they meet, thereby devaluing these kisses, for their final addressee is both their beloved and their best friend… isn't that right?! What kind of reward is it if it is given to everyone? If orders were given to everyone, would their significance and sacred meaning not be lost—would they not then become just iron trinkets? The world! It used to be different… and my true mentor, Rousseau, is a witness to that! Previously, women felt more than they thought, now they are cold, iron mechanisms whose calculation is strict and precise, like that of a personal computer: there is practically nothing human left in them—this is a class of merchants and traders who sell the very product that, in turn, they themselves are… Previously, women were won, now—they are bought: before, women chose with their hearts, now—with their minds… And therefore, now in our world it is very difficult to meet a true woman, and not her pathetic and emaciated shadow…