The Arrival, June 1899--

I heard about him before I ever lay eyes on him.
The summer had descended on Paris in a wave of artists and tourists trying to capture the mystical glow of the City of Lights, for entirely different reasons. The play, such as it was, being only a quarter of a way finished and starring only Toulouse and the Argentinean (and him only when he as awake enough to get in rehearsals), was being developed in the attic rooms of the building across the road. Audrey had sketched out rough details that no one, not even Harry, was allowed to see, and from my room I could often see their shadows in the windows, laughing and getting soaked to the gills, courtesy of that impish little tart, the Green Fairy.
I would not have known about him in the first place, if Toulouse hadn't been in her company for five hours at a stretch. I encountered the dwarf (oh, sorry-- petite personne' as he preferred to be called) sitting in the corner of the Moulin long after it was closed, his hat tipped over his nose, slumbering peacefully as the floors were mopped to wait for tomorrow. I shook his arm, eliciting a drunken grunt that floated out on a cloud of absinthe. I chided him, pulling on his arm. Get up, you can't sleep here.
He opened his eyes blearily, apparently having a hard time in focusing them. he asked groggily. Is that you, ma cherie?
No, it's Chocolat, I said irritably as I hauled him to his feet. C'mon, Harry will have you thrown out forever if he sees you like this. Stand up!
He hiccuped slightly and planted his feet on the ground, swaying gently. You always were the maternal type, Nini.
Oh, stuff it. I grumbled, watching him as he took a few tentative steps towards me, holding his arms out for balance. He looked like a creature I'd seen in a sideshow tent once, an Amazonian Pygmy. Had he been of lower a social class, that may very well be where he would have ended up. My musings were interrupted by a loud hiccup, and then he fell forward suddenly, throwing his arms about my waist to keep from landing flat on his face. I cried in surprise and irritation/ Kindly remove yourself from my person, s'il vous plaƮt!
Give me a moment, he said, looking up at me through clouded eyes. My God, Nini, you are a beautiful girl, he breathed, the smell of alcohol coming from him in waves. Why don't we leave the Moulin Rouge together, hmm? Travel the world, searching for truth and beauty...the petit capitaine and his blushing bride?
That's the absinthe talking, I informed him, pushing him back up. For God's sake, Toulouse, don't make me drag you all the way back home! I've got to get some rest as well.
What's wrong with getting a little drunk once in a while? he asked as we began our slow journey to the doors. Besides, tonight's worth celebrating!
I asked. And why's that? Did Jane Avril roll into town? Jane was a dancer that Toulouse had become quite smitten with, drawing her likeness several times but never getting the the nerve to present her with one of his pieces.
If only... he said wistfully. No, for an entirely different purpose indeed! Spectacular Spectacular is finally up and rolling!
I asked. The secrecy about the project was such that we weren't even told about the title. What are you going on about, then?
Perhaps I shouldn't tell you this, he said as we made our way out to the courtyard. But the stars are out, I'm pleasantly drunk, and you're looking very cuddly tonight. Spectacular Spectacular is what will make our names once and for all, he announced. A pageantry of light and sound, music and dance! And, with our new writer on our side, we'll have it finished in a few weeks.
New writer? I was really curious now. Audrey had never been known to quit a play, and had certainly never allowed anyone else to take us where he...she...left off. Now, then, Henri, I said, prodding him a little. What's this new writer you're talking about? I'm dying to know.
The night air seemed to regenerate Toulouse, and to my satisfaction the combination of absinthe and sensory overload loosened his tongue quickly enough. He's English, very young, and goes by the name Christian.
Oh, really? Do go on.
And he's agreed to take over from where Audrey left off, he reported happily. Fresh ideas, new perspectives...Nini, for once everything is going right! It'll be...spectacular!
Hmm, I'm sure it will be, Henri, mon cher, I answered, my voice a teasing purr as I led him across the road. And when can I meet this Christian? Or are you going to keep him locked up the rest of production?
Toulouse shook his head. I really shouldn't- oh, excuse me, he said as a bubble hiccuped from his mouth. I really shouldn't have told you anything. If the others find out, they'll be quite upset. I trust you to keep this a secret, Nini?
But when will I meet him? I insisted. His secrecy was beginning to intrigue me. Who was this mysterious English writer?
Patience, Nini, patience, he admonished me as he fumbled for his keys. You'll see tomorrow night. I'm bringing him in, too meet Satine.
The star. It figured. Nevertheless, I put a smile on my face and patted his hand. Well, then, I suppose i'll just have to wait in breathless anticipation. Bonne nuit, Henri.
As I walked across the road back home, I could hear Toulouse' drunken serenade from his rooms, an ode to beauty, love, truth, and absinthe. We'd be needing all of that in the days ahead.