I woke to find myself in a dark wood, for I had wandered off from the straight path.

One thing I have to say about the past month here in Boston is that it has been exceedingly snowy and slush-ful. As a child in York I have fond memories of the few snowfalls we would see each year, as though some sort of magical weather faerie had dusted the countryside with confectioner’s sugar and set it all sparkling in the sun. Snow in Boston, whether because I am now an adult and no longer look at the world through a child’s wondering gaze or because it is Boston, is thick and heavy and very quickly turns a dull sort of grey.

Or perhaps you will believe that the mundane nature of Boston snow has more to do with my present state of mind than it does the comparative quality of snow in New versus Old England. Perhaps you are right. But there is very little that is magical about recent Boston weather and I fancy that you would be hard-pressed to find someone in this city who would disagree.

The weather has allowed me to miss some of my otherwise semi-weekly meetings with the members of the Dante Effect, and I confess that there have been some of those weeks when I was not entirely disappointed to miss my encounters with Stone. However I must say that last week’s meeting was a pleasant surprise as Ste.Croix had set out a very proper tea for herself, Ms Velazquez and myself. I do not often have a chance to speak with Ms Velaszquez, who is also decidedly unimpressed by this winter, and it was quite possibly one of the most pleasant conversations I have had with either woman since beginning this project. It gives me hope that not only will their future ventures continue to be successful but that I might in time come to not despise the other members of the company. With the exception of Stone and Ritter. I will for the time being withhold my judgement about Engel.

It is at any rate something hopeful in a dismal winter that has yet offered very little promise of a pleasant spring.

–VKB Angell

Like her compatriots, Doña Miranda Velazquez refuses to disclose her true identity, instead taking theatrical refuge in the persona she has created. Also like her compatriots, the story Velazquez presented seems to be studded with gems of truth that deepen the colour of her tale.

She claims to have been born in Madrid in the 1870s, although she professes to be unaware of her exact age. She says she is – and this seems true – an only child, made more believable by her assertive and proprietary nature. She has an air of entitlement, but it seems the slightest bit forced, perhaps indicating fears of inadequacy having to do with parental disapproval or difficulty with her primary education.

Velazquez professes a keen business sense, and – to my limited knowledge – seems to in fact have a proverbial knack for maths and financials. I would venture that she does have some experience in management or entrepreneurship and, while probably quite fiscally successful, may be secretly feared or despised by anyone over whom she has managerial power.

She claims to have travelled extensively, most particularly to South America and the Caribbean, both of which seem to bear up under questioning as truthful (and travel is certainly an easily enough modified piece of truth). She remarked in particular on having first encountered – and had a liaison with – Stone while in Argentina. Given the obvious hostility the two directed at one another at the Gala, a personal (perhaps sexual) history between Stone and Velazquez is almost certain.

Like Stone, Velazquez defers to Ste. Croix, even in her absence. I shall be certain to bear this in mind in further interviews with Ste. Croix.

–VKB Angell

What is most important to note about the Opening Gala is that everyone involved survived and that from the audience’s perspective, at least, it was a rousing success. From mine it was perhaps less so.

It was, however, quite illuminating as to the character of some of my erstwhile compatriots.

Ms Ste.Croix was her usual composed self, handling every turn of the evening with casual aplomb. It is most likely thanks to her that the audience remained blissfully entertained by the ridiculous antics of Mr Stone and another member of the company whom I did not meet until the evening of the event itself – one Dr Augustin Ritter, about whom I will have more to say momentarily.

In addition, Ms Ste.Croix had also brought Mr Stone’s half-brother, Mr Braxton Carroll, with whom I did not have much chance to converse. I hope to interview him soon; if he is in fact a relation (or even a close friend) of Mr Stone, the perhaps he will be able to provide some insight into the ludicrous behaviour of his step-brother during the event itself. At the very least, Mr Carroll might be able to enlighten me as to whether such actions should be expected on any future theatrical or formal occasions.

The final member of the Dante Effect company present at the Gala was one Doña Miranda Velazquez of Spain, whose familiarity with the English language indicated long-term residence in the United States, although she did indeed seem to be a native of another country (if not Spain, then another Spanish-speaking nation).

At some point in the future I would like very much to speak with both the Doña and Mr Carroll, but for now I more than have my hands full with Mr Stone and Dr Ritter.

Mr Stone’s kick-off to the Gala was particularly memorable, involving a bottle of wine and shorts bearing a leopard-skin print. Dr Ritter’s contribution was to ensconce himself in the kitchen with a chemistry set from which vantage point he could howl insults at cast members and guests alike. Fortunately some guests were entertained by the prospect of being insulted, and enjoined in playful banter with both Mr Stone and Dr Ritter throughout the evening under the mitigating influence of Ms Ste.Croix and – to a lesser extent – Mr Carroll and Doña Miranda.

To the great entertainment of the guests, Mr Stone and Dr Ritter were simultaneously inseparable and unable to be in the same room with one another – not only was there the now-infamous sword-versus-biscuit-sheet fight which I understand was scripted and rehearsed without my knowledge, but there were multiple verbal arguments between them that had more than a tinge of genuine animosity. Certainly the escapade with the gun in the yard was contrived, as was the ‘poison’ they gave one another at the end of the evening.

How much of the night’s debacle was intentional and how much the consequence of egotism and volatile emotions I cannot be certain, but at least at the end of the evening, the audience left happy.

–VKB Angell