The years passed by, and Satine grew up a wonderful juvenile. To Marie and
me, she was like a daughter, to everyone in Moulin Rouge, she was like a
little sister. Especially Chocolat was hardly separated from her; when she
was young, he let her ride on his shoulders, and she rejoiced when he threw
her up in the air, catched her and, holding her in his arms, turned round
in a circle. Later, he became her best friend, comforted her, when she was
bad, listened to her, when she wanted to talk, gave her a rest in his lap
when she was exhausted. Her beauty, her aura as well as her charm enchanted
everybody coming closer to her, we all were completely under her spell; but
who could have been able to blame her for it?
Satine herself loved the Moulin Rouge, although she didn't even know after three years what the Moulin Rouge really was, that it was much more than just a dancing hall, that it was a brothel in which her friends had to sell themselves to rich men for a handful of Francs every night. She only saw the dancing, and she loved it, and day by day she begged me to be allowed to dance with the others, and night by night she stood behind the stage and watched the dancers, yearning, and afterwards she often cried in Chocolat's lap, being in despair, unable to understand my worry about her.
But how should she understand? I could not tell her why I didn't let her dance, because it had meant to destroy her illusions, and that would have broken her, and me and my heart as well, for I loved my little Satine, my little angel, with every beat of my heart. Yes, I wanted to protect my oath, but fate didn't want to. Satine's beauty was known outside the walls of Moulin Rouge, too, and it didn't last long until the first noblemen came to me. They offered cosmic sums of money for a night with Satine, and her youth seemingly didn't frighten them away, quite the reverse, it even attracted them. I got rid of all of them, shocked and nearly unconscious. No one would ever touch Satine, not for this dirty money, not even for all dirty money in all over the world.
But time passed by, and I started to think about it, even though I hated myself for this. Those sums were incredible, and I needed money badly, because even if I didn't show it (I didn't want to frighten the customers away), the Moulin Rouge was in debts, in very deep debts, and we were dependent on investors who were able to pay a lot. And Satine could have saved us all, though not even in the age of fourteen.
I had a little talk about this with Marie. She was horrified.
"You want to sell our daughter? I cannot believe this!" she exclaimed.
"Marie…" I looked for words, helpless. "We need the money."
"She isn't even fourteen!" Her eyes were pleading.
I buried my face in my hands. "Do you really believe I wanted to do this? She is the only one I love!" I was trying hard not to lose my self-control, and my voice was trembling. "But she is talented. She can sing, she is very movable, and she is beautiful. She could be a star. She could save us all!"
Marie turned away and gazed out of the window into a cloudy morning of autumn. "You give her a heavy weight to carry on her shoulders, Harold Zidler."
"I know." I rubbed my eyes. "I know." Then I looked up. "At least, she can learn how to dance. It is her greatest longing for a long time now."
"It's your choice", she said, unmoving, and without a trace of feelings in her voice.
"Does that mean yes?" I didn't get an answer. I waited a few minutes, then I took my black béret off the table and left the room.
When I entered the big dancing hall – at night full of pleasure and lust, but sending out icy cold on this damned morning when I had to hand over Satine - inside the Moulin Rouge together with Satine, the dancers were looking at me in surprise. I told Chocolat to show Satine the first exercises, then I sat down on a chair outside the dance floor. I was hurting as hell inside being forced to look at her beginning to dance. She was a jewel, my jewel, and I didn't want to share her. I bit my lips not to be tempted to stop the rehearsal and bring Satine back to Marie.
"Is the little angel for sale too, finally?" a voice spoke beside me suddenly. It was Nini, who was looking mockingly at Satine and pulling on her cigarette nearly exciting.
"Why don't you rehearse with them, Nini, and leave those things to me." I could not look into her eyes. Most probably, I would have killed her for their expression while staring at Satine; I could imagine it just by hearing her tone.
"I have asked you something, Harold", she said sharply.
I was silent.
"Harold!"
I closed my eyes. "She is getting dancing lessons. There's nothing more."
"If she's dancing, she has to sell herself. That's the rule. And you know that very well!" Her tone was annoyed, curt, and somehow deeply hurt.
"She isn't even fourteen!" Without noticing it, I repeated Marie's words. But they didn't impress Nini. Quite the reverse.
"You sold me when I was thirteen!" she hissed. "Because you needed the goddamn money." Her breathing was hard and irregular. "And now she has to be the next." With flashing eyes she looked at me, and it dawned upon me that she had never been more beautiful than in this moment when she showed her true feelings, and I felt something like guilt for what I had done to her.
Then I turned away. "She is learning how to dance. We'll see to the rest. And now, go", I advised her.
Satine herself loved the Moulin Rouge, although she didn't even know after three years what the Moulin Rouge really was, that it was much more than just a dancing hall, that it was a brothel in which her friends had to sell themselves to rich men for a handful of Francs every night. She only saw the dancing, and she loved it, and day by day she begged me to be allowed to dance with the others, and night by night she stood behind the stage and watched the dancers, yearning, and afterwards she often cried in Chocolat's lap, being in despair, unable to understand my worry about her.
But how should she understand? I could not tell her why I didn't let her dance, because it had meant to destroy her illusions, and that would have broken her, and me and my heart as well, for I loved my little Satine, my little angel, with every beat of my heart. Yes, I wanted to protect my oath, but fate didn't want to. Satine's beauty was known outside the walls of Moulin Rouge, too, and it didn't last long until the first noblemen came to me. They offered cosmic sums of money for a night with Satine, and her youth seemingly didn't frighten them away, quite the reverse, it even attracted them. I got rid of all of them, shocked and nearly unconscious. No one would ever touch Satine, not for this dirty money, not even for all dirty money in all over the world.
But time passed by, and I started to think about it, even though I hated myself for this. Those sums were incredible, and I needed money badly, because even if I didn't show it (I didn't want to frighten the customers away), the Moulin Rouge was in debts, in very deep debts, and we were dependent on investors who were able to pay a lot. And Satine could have saved us all, though not even in the age of fourteen.
I had a little talk about this with Marie. She was horrified.
"You want to sell our daughter? I cannot believe this!" she exclaimed.
"Marie…" I looked for words, helpless. "We need the money."
"She isn't even fourteen!" Her eyes were pleading.
I buried my face in my hands. "Do you really believe I wanted to do this? She is the only one I love!" I was trying hard not to lose my self-control, and my voice was trembling. "But she is talented. She can sing, she is very movable, and she is beautiful. She could be a star. She could save us all!"
Marie turned away and gazed out of the window into a cloudy morning of autumn. "You give her a heavy weight to carry on her shoulders, Harold Zidler."
"I know." I rubbed my eyes. "I know." Then I looked up. "At least, she can learn how to dance. It is her greatest longing for a long time now."
"It's your choice", she said, unmoving, and without a trace of feelings in her voice.
"Does that mean yes?" I didn't get an answer. I waited a few minutes, then I took my black béret off the table and left the room.
When I entered the big dancing hall – at night full of pleasure and lust, but sending out icy cold on this damned morning when I had to hand over Satine - inside the Moulin Rouge together with Satine, the dancers were looking at me in surprise. I told Chocolat to show Satine the first exercises, then I sat down on a chair outside the dance floor. I was hurting as hell inside being forced to look at her beginning to dance. She was a jewel, my jewel, and I didn't want to share her. I bit my lips not to be tempted to stop the rehearsal and bring Satine back to Marie.
"Is the little angel for sale too, finally?" a voice spoke beside me suddenly. It was Nini, who was looking mockingly at Satine and pulling on her cigarette nearly exciting.
"Why don't you rehearse with them, Nini, and leave those things to me." I could not look into her eyes. Most probably, I would have killed her for their expression while staring at Satine; I could imagine it just by hearing her tone.
"I have asked you something, Harold", she said sharply.
I was silent.
"Harold!"
I closed my eyes. "She is getting dancing lessons. There's nothing more."
"If she's dancing, she has to sell herself. That's the rule. And you know that very well!" Her tone was annoyed, curt, and somehow deeply hurt.
"She isn't even fourteen!" Without noticing it, I repeated Marie's words. But they didn't impress Nini. Quite the reverse.
"You sold me when I was thirteen!" she hissed. "Because you needed the goddamn money." Her breathing was hard and irregular. "And now she has to be the next." With flashing eyes she looked at me, and it dawned upon me that she had never been more beautiful than in this moment when she showed her true feelings, and I felt something like guilt for what I had done to her.
Then I turned away. "She is learning how to dance. We'll see to the rest. And now, go", I advised her.