It's midnight, the absinthe's fooling sweetness is leaving me now.
I'm so sorry, I feel so stupid. I hope you're not angry at me, sweetest
of the beings of Heaven, I've started again without noticing it…I won't do it
again and I will put all myself in the stories I'm planning to write. 'The red
curtain', I want to call them this way… I promise I'll develop every one of the
ideas that will pop into my mind, but please don't leave me…
I'm all alone now; the friends left for the Moulin a hour ago. They
asked me to come with them, to go and see the new numbers, the one I wanted you
to bring to life. The red curtain is raising now on a new star - they said
she's gorgeous and you'd be happy to see her - what's her name?… Moss?… Ivy!
She's as flexuous as a new-born plant, delicate like a flower, deadly like a
panther of the Indian forests…It sounded so familiar, so achingly familiar and
dear…
I've visited your grave this afternoon. I passed by chance and
recognized it. There's only your name there…I want to put a perfect epitaph,
the most powerful still gracious I can give birth to.
Now, it's time to start writing:
He was after her; she could feel his icing presence following her. She
thought she'd left him a month ago, when she had first come to the city. But he
was there and she didn't know where else she could hide. The alley seemed a
good place so she stopped in the darkness. There was no moon in the sky and the
lonely streetlights couldn't reach her, she was safe. When the hurrying steps
approached the alley she hid behind a short stone staircase, trying to become
as little as she could. Her heart was in her throat, bumping furiously.
The shadow stopped, panting. Isabelle whispered a prayer to the God up
there, begging for help. The steps moved farther and the access of the alley
was empty again. She waited another moment then breathed deeply. Now the night
didn't seem so dark and moist and she wasn't feeling so cold and alone.
There was music playing, she noticed…the rhythm filled her being and as
she stood up, without wanting it, she started dancing. At first lightly, moving
with care, but soon the music became louder and she couldn't help dancing in
the street. The large skirt started fluttering around her as she mimed a can
can on the stone stage. She felt so good she forgot her problems and the urge
to come back home as fast as she could. She could only dance, sliding and
pivoting, clapping the hands. The lights started changing into stage lights and
she imagine the clapping audience beneath her, whistling and acclaiming her
name. She felt dizzy but it was fine and enchanting, like drinking.
The music then, as sudden as it had begun, stopped and Isabelle found
herself alone in the middle of the street.
The sound of someone clapping and shouting "Magnificent!
Magnificent!" iced the girl, who suddenly felt all the weight of that
distressing night. She turned around, frightened and embarrassed. There he was,
sitting on a stone staircase, a bottle resting near him. The light fell on him
with grace. He wasn't him. The young man stood up, swinging a little, and moved
toward her, still clapping.
Isabelle stood there, waiting but most of all listening, to the muffled
sounds of the night, to perceive in time the terrible steps she wanted to push
far away.
The young man stopped a meter from her, moving cautiously.
"You were
magnificent…really…the most wonderful can can I've ever seen danced in a
street…at the Moulin you'd made a whole better effect though…"
"The Moulin? You're talking about THE Moulin?"
"Yeah…you'd be a fantastic dancer…and I'd come to see you every
night and bless God every day for letting me see an angel…"
Isabelle felt strange, pleasantly fooled by the sweet words of the
young, a bit drunk, man.
"What's your name?"
She was going to answer, she felt the need to do it but the sound of
steps approaching stopped her. She turned around, saw a shadow and was filled
with a sudden fear. The charming young man wasn't charming enough to risk and
she started running. The young man called her, then shouted. "I'll wait
here for my angel to come, tomorrow."
She heard the words but she wasn't sure she would be there the following
day… she simply nodded and threw away the foulard she wore around her
shoulders.
"Bye,
mon ange." Came to her hears as she left the
rue.
Probably it was all the fear she'd felt, or the magnificent freedom of
the impulsive dance, but Isabelle couldn't sleep. When she tried to close her
eyes, he was there and at first she thought he was him…come from her worst
nightmare to make of her a peasant, a peasant! She could sing and dance and she
wasn't going to be a peasant, married to a peasant without knowledge, violent
and drunk most of the time. She had wanted to fly away from the village and now
she was in the City, trying her best at living.
She found the courage to focus a moment on the image and discovered,
with crescent happiness, that he was the young charming man the shadow she
saw…His way of talking was perfect, he'd studied of course, probably with one
of the best tutor of France, no wit the best, in an elegant room in one of the
many castle-like houses she'd dreamt about…and his voice, so pure and strong,
had the sincerity only the gentlemen had. 'Mon ange…' no one had called her
that way before, he was a gentleman. She wanted to meet him again and to hear
him calling her again and again: 'Mon ange…mon petite ange…' When would
tomorrow come?! The darkness of the room was still and silent, the lively
nightlife of the city was far from her from the humble flat she divided with
her new friends, other six young lively women, eager to live and try like she
was.
The day passed by slowly, awfully slowly. The family where she worked
was so awfully simple, even if they were awfully reach and powerful. They'd
kept on shouting her to pay attention here, watch out there, bring this, carry
that. The children! They must not shout and jump like that all over the room,
there are guests!
When the sun set slowly over the tormented horizon of the city Isabelle
jumped into street, shouting all her happiness without noticing the expression
of the people who passed there.
At home she asked for the help of the other girls and dressed herself up
in the best dress the house offered. She put on a bit of make-up and a necklace
and hopeful left the house.
The place was as she remembered, the thick darkness didn't seem so cold
though. The music was muffled.
"You've come. My whishes have been heard then." The
velvet-like voice came from behind. She turned, smiling. He was so tall and
gracious and now she could see his eyes, two splendid precious blue stones. He
was a pure gentleman.
He offered her the arm and she accepted with a little bow and a big big
smile. As they started walking he started singing, softly. Isabelle listened to
him enchanted, it was the most fantastic song she'd ever heard.
When he finished they had arrived. She noticed where they'd stopped only
when she heard the loud music and the loud chattering and clapping. The Moulin
was there in all of its lights.
"Surprise,
surprise, mon ange." Whispered the young
man as he led her to the back door.
"Why are we…" she asked, embarrassed and unsure.
"Surprise, surprise…" repeated the young man, smiling. He left
her for a moment, disappearing inside then came back with another fat funny man
and two women dressed like can can dancers.
"She?" asked the fat man and the young man nodded.
"Let's give it a try…Nina." One of the two woman, the slimmer
one, moved and reached her. Isabelle breathed in perfume and white soft powder.
"Come with me, Ange…"
She looked at the charming young man who nodded, smiling and she felt
immediately reassured.
"Don't worry, dear, Jack will be there…"
Jack. She finally knew his name…
There was movement and excitement and loud music and everything was
filled with light. Nina took her to the wardrobe and rapidly chose a dress for
her.
"This is not something that usually happens here but…if you're as
good as he told, we'll give this a try…put this on." The dress was thrown
at her and the moment after she was inside a narrow room changing her dress.
After a little adjustment Nina removed her make-up and put on another one. When
she looked at her face she barely recognized her own face.
"Then, Ange…after this song it's your time…"
"My time?!"
"You're going to exhibit…when the music end and the stage is clear
hurry to the center from then…it's your business…"
Nina rushed out of the room and Isabelle followed her. Nina pushed her
on stage a moment before the curtain
was removed.
"And now directly from heaven is here for you…Ange!"
The red shelter faded and she faced the audience; the music started and
two brawny men appeared form the side. After a deep breath she started.
As she pirouetted and twisted, singing the song that Jack had sung to
her, she recognized him, standing near a column, watching her, smiling and
drinking.
"She's good…nice and can sing in an acceptable way…"
"Yeah yeah…she's marvelous…and I want my money now." The fat
man nodded. "Oh…and she's my private property…"
"Of course, of course."
Love, you like it? I hope so… It's time to go to bed now.
Sweet dream upon the stars, Precious.