Isola

by Allegra Goodman

“I understand what it is to be a man.” “God forbid,” said Damienne. But I said, “To be a man is to have your way.” “And is that good?” she said. “And is it right?” “It is satisfying,” I told her.

“Did you know then that God remembered you?” “I knew I had forgotten him.” The room was silent as I made this confession. The air was dead. Then the Queen spoke. “That is how it feels to struggle with your faith.”

“I have felt as you have,” the Queen said. “I have doubted and despaired. I have known my soul to be wicked, and I have searched in scripture for the comfort that you found. I have been alone, bereft, but I know now that in solitude we find our way, and in learning, and in God’s word. Do not be surprised,” she added, “to hear that I have also searched for truth and certainty, and I have found them rarer and more precious than pearls.” She looked to her jeweled ladies, and they nodded, even as they glittered in the candlelight. “Those who know their faults are truly wise,” the Queen said. “And those who have endured the worst have most to teach. Do not say, then, that your story does not deserve retelling.