martes, 6 de julio de 2010


I'm sure that the state of my mind I felt was caused by the seriousness of this event; because The Lady of the Camellias was dying and even Alexander Dumas was not near to her solace. I was looking for by all means his whereabouts, and in the end, I found one of their common friends in the cafe they both frequented. I asked him to send an emissary in his research to tell him the unexpected gravity of the situation that Marie was in; and after all,- my dear readers -I feel the need to answer the lady as if I was the true author, so her unhealthy body would hold up until his arrival.
You can check it out in the following lines;

Worthy blossom of my heart;

As the time passed and I had not any news about you, I had no choice than to set off to foreign countries, for an important matter with my father. But now that I've received your letter through an emissary, and dejected as I feel for your gloomy words, I have decided to get ready to stay beside you, with the only hope to see you and I will be near you in your grief, sorrow and death throes.
you are not driven to despair my dear love. Despite the fact my body is far from you not my soul, and taking you by the hand I whisper words of strength into your ears to resist this extreme sadness; can you feel them my darling?......
You need just wait for one or two more days, and I will be there again caressing your face, and holding your burning neck tight. I will ask you to stay with me and not to leave me never more, since as what would I do without you my dear?...

Don't be afraid, bercause I'm sure I will be very soon in your arms.

With all my lover.


And now I ask myself- Was I or not in the possession of doing the correct in this tragic story?
After all, Dumas didn't come in time, because his lady died on 5 February in 1847, when she had received the Holy Sacraments despite her damaging life, and in the most miserable loneliness, in spite of having so many lovers. but I'm sure that my letter was able to give her relief and comfort, and this is the only reason why I hold with pride the name of (if somebody thinks in this way) impostor of Alexander Dumas'son.
I could be present as Alexander in the burial of unfortunate Marie, so anybody, and I repeat, anybody didn't see me; and our flowed tears were the balm which covered her taciturn coffin all of it provided with the most beautiful camellias that you would be able to imagine.

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