Act 10: Mark of Gisela

	While everybody else took a seat in the living room, Rue’s mother 
led her upstairs to a bedroom filled with shelves of pretty porcelain 
dolls and children’s books -- most likely, Anneliese’s room. Rue, who 
still had no idea what kind of test she would have to take to prove her 
identity, gave her mother a quizzical look as the older woman took a seat 
on Anneliese’s bed and frowned.

	“Before we begin, I must be honest with you,” her mother said. “I 
do not believe you are my daughter. It’s been far too long, and I have 
been disappointed far too many times to let myself still hold onto the 
hope that Gisela is still alive. Had Henry had the sense to contact us 
before bringing you here, I would have refused to see you, but since you 
are here, I will give you the chance to prove your identity, if only for 
the sake of my husband’s and my children’s curiosity.”

	“I-I understand,” Rue replied, clasping her hands in front of her 
as she stepped forward. “Believe me, Mrs. Hoffmann, it was never my 
intention to hurt anybody by pretending to be somebody I am not, but I 
truly believe I am Gisela. However, if I am not, you have my deepest 
apologies for any old wounds I may have reopened.”

	“Thank you.” After a long pause, during which she appeared to be 
summoning her strength, her mother stood back up from the bed. “Now, if 
you wouldn’t mind, I need you to raise up your shirt.”

	Out of all the scenarios Rue had imagined concerning the test, 
that was not one of them.

	“E-Excuse me?”

	“You needn’t raise it very high,” her mother assured her. “Just 
under you chest is fine.”

	“Um, okay…”

	Still confused, Rue nonetheless did as she was told, lifting up 
her shirt to right underneath her breasts so that her toned abdomen was 
on full display. Her mother then came forward, a small gasp escaping her 
lips as she ran a finger over a uniquely-shaped birthmark that Rue had 
always hated.

	“Can it really be?” her mother breathed. “After all these 
years…?”

	“Mrs. Hoffmann?”

	“Karl said it looked like a twig of rosemary,” she murmured, not 
seeming to hear Rue at all. “That’s how we decided on her name. In my 
favorite ballet, Myrthe, the queen of the wilis, uses rosemary to raise 
Giselle from her grave. Neither of us were terribly fond of the name 
Myrthe, though, so we decided to call you Gisela instead.” 

	The use of the word “you” instead of “her” did not go unnoticed 
by Rue, and her eyes widened.

	“Then, I…passed?” 

	In answer, her mother simply embraced her, her voice cracking as 
she said the words Rue had longed to hear from the moment she stepped 
inside the house:

	“Welcome home, Gisela.”



DISCLAIMER: "Princess Tutu" doesn't belong to me. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Any comments or criticisms can be sent to me at 
ElysionDream@aol.com.