Aug 192011
 

“Yes, yes, yes, you little wretch, I must have a fresh bidet twice daily; the water in this one’s thick as the skin of curdled cream! I am accustomed only to roses and cloves–and coolness in August! The water should not feel as if it had just drooled out of a giant’s ear; it must be sweet, and cool, and nice. Right, Juliette? Do you have it? Good. Now, run! or Jeanne will whack you like the dirty boys like to do, you little harlot. What will the Madame say if you forever disappoint even us poor prostitutes? Run! “

“Yes, Jeanne. Cool water in August; it will be as you say. But, but….”

“Out, you scullery whore. You disturb an artiste!

“Yes, Jeanne. But… I think there is a note pinned to your door. A gentleman left it at the front desk earlier today.”

“A gentleman? And a note? Stop where you are; do not run away from your mistress. This… gentleman… did he ask for me? Particularly for me?”

“No; he just wanted to leave the note. That’s what Marie told me.”

“He wanted to leave a note, and not come up to my rooms? That’s a touch strange. He did say the note was for me particularly and not for one of the other ladies?”

“Oh yes, Jeanne. I can read, and it has your name on it.”

“Hmm… imagine you being able to read. How you managed it, I am sure I will never know. Did you recognize the man? Did you see him?”

“I saw him when he was leaving. I forget his name, but he was the one with the ‘evil eye.'”

“Julliette! Forget your gypsy ways, you are a French girl now. You don’t want to go back to the orphanage, do you?”

“Oh no, no, no, Jeanne! Do not let them drag me away! Not there! Not again! I couldn’t bear it!”

“Well, Madame won’t care how pretty you are if your keep up with those witchy superstitions. Men in Paris will shrink from your caresses, no matter how sultry. And that will not be good for business.”

“Yes. I know you are right. I shall not mention the ‘evil eye’ again, Jeanne.” She paused. “Thank you, Jeanne.”

“Yes, well, enough of that, what else can you tell me about this gentleman?”

“Oh, he was handsome, but pale, very pale, like a corpse laid out; the corpse of a prince or something. And very correct in his way of talking. Just like a real gentleman. But… but….”

“But what?”

“But, he had the saddest smile I ever saw, as if everything he loved, well, like he could see it, but it was all on the other side of a terribly big piece of glass. Like sometimes the way the really beautiful tropical fish look out at you in the new aquarium on the Place de la Glancee. Like they could see the wild ocean, but knew all the lands of the world lay between them and home.”

“Charlie,” Jeanne said to herself. “It must be Charlie.”

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.