I crept towards her bed and sat down beside her. Hesitating I began
stroking her silken red hair. She didn't fight, but she didn't loosen her
tense either. "My angel…" I whispered.
I had not expected any response. The more her words burned my soul. "It hurts."
She spoke with a heavy shake in her voice, and she didn't move her eyes away for a second from the emptiness they were staring at. I let my hand rest on her head. "I am sorry", I said after a while. "It's time for you to know the truth."
"Where's Sarah?"
I bit on my lip to hold back the tears and fished with the other hand for the wooden doll that was lying on the little table. I gave it to her, and she pressed it tight to her body, her eyes still stiff and hurt.
"Satine…" I started anew. "What Chocolat did to you…" She jerked. "It's called to make love. Men pay for women doing it with them. They even pay a lot. For women like Nini, Susanne, Felice…" I hesitated. "…and you."
Abruptly, she turned her head, and her eyes, at any other time mild and merry, were burning, her soft face had lost his beauty for this moment, her youth had went for the age and a horror that was infinite. With all the power that I had, I defended myself against this look. "I'm sorry, but you have to become a courtesan. There's no other way. Men want you. And we want their money. We need it, Satine, otherwise we cannot effort this way of living anymore. And then we'll end up on the street, you, I, Marie, Chocolat, the whole Moulin Rouge cannot exist without you helping us. You have to learn how to satisfy a man, what they like, and you have to learn to suppress your feelings. You are talented in dancing, singing and acting, and you won't have problems in learning it."
Her lips were thin. "I don't want to! It hurts!"
"Yes, it hurts." I would have smiled if I had been able to. "I know that it hurts. But believe me, it hurts me too seeing you suffering. I wanted to save you, for I love you, you know. But love doesn't count. Not here, not with us. We have to obey the underworld, we are her creatures, and she claims us when we are going too far away from her. Satine…" I touched her cheek. "I will make you the star of the Moulin Rouge. You will dance every night, every man will adore you, and you will have a free choice among them. You'll be a goddess." A sad smile came to my face. "But you have to be a courtesan."
She closed her eyes. "Dance every night?"
"Every night", I repeated. "You'll get your own show, you'll be out of the mass. You'll be famous, the most famous woman on Montmartre."
"Do you promise?" She looked up, and her look was still hurt, but soft.
I smiled. "Yes, I promise."
She bit her lower lip and wiped away a tear from her cheek that hat stolen away from her eye. Then, I didn't expect it, she hugged me and buried her face on my neck. "Harold…" She sniffled. "If I just may dance, I'll do every, everything!"
I laid my arms around her, around her fragile, hurt, wonderful body, and held her tight. "I'll do everything for you, my darling, to make your life easier."
She loosed the embrace a bit and looked at me, and she seemed much older than she was. "Then let me dance. Just dance."
I nodded. And, slowly, a smile came to her lips, perhaps the most beautiful one I ever saw with her. "I love you, Harold", she said softly. "I don't care whether it counts or not, I love you, mon père."
"Ma petite", I whispered and kissed her on the forehead. "Do you forgive me?"
She nodded, and tears were running down her cheeks. "Yes."
The same evening, Satine was on stage for the first time together with the other courtesans from the Moulin Rouge. The customers were enthusiastic about the young blood among the dancers, and the offers were outbidding each other. The chosen one was a young, at least a bit handsome lord from England who was just visiting Paris. She had chosen him herself, and the way she was treating him even seemed to me, who was knowing about her, just as if she had never done anything else than being on stage, dancing, turning the men on and finally giving herself to one of them.
I had not expected any response. The more her words burned my soul. "It hurts."
She spoke with a heavy shake in her voice, and she didn't move her eyes away for a second from the emptiness they were staring at. I let my hand rest on her head. "I am sorry", I said after a while. "It's time for you to know the truth."
"Where's Sarah?"
I bit on my lip to hold back the tears and fished with the other hand for the wooden doll that was lying on the little table. I gave it to her, and she pressed it tight to her body, her eyes still stiff and hurt.
"Satine…" I started anew. "What Chocolat did to you…" She jerked. "It's called to make love. Men pay for women doing it with them. They even pay a lot. For women like Nini, Susanne, Felice…" I hesitated. "…and you."
Abruptly, she turned her head, and her eyes, at any other time mild and merry, were burning, her soft face had lost his beauty for this moment, her youth had went for the age and a horror that was infinite. With all the power that I had, I defended myself against this look. "I'm sorry, but you have to become a courtesan. There's no other way. Men want you. And we want their money. We need it, Satine, otherwise we cannot effort this way of living anymore. And then we'll end up on the street, you, I, Marie, Chocolat, the whole Moulin Rouge cannot exist without you helping us. You have to learn how to satisfy a man, what they like, and you have to learn to suppress your feelings. You are talented in dancing, singing and acting, and you won't have problems in learning it."
Her lips were thin. "I don't want to! It hurts!"
"Yes, it hurts." I would have smiled if I had been able to. "I know that it hurts. But believe me, it hurts me too seeing you suffering. I wanted to save you, for I love you, you know. But love doesn't count. Not here, not with us. We have to obey the underworld, we are her creatures, and she claims us when we are going too far away from her. Satine…" I touched her cheek. "I will make you the star of the Moulin Rouge. You will dance every night, every man will adore you, and you will have a free choice among them. You'll be a goddess." A sad smile came to my face. "But you have to be a courtesan."
She closed her eyes. "Dance every night?"
"Every night", I repeated. "You'll get your own show, you'll be out of the mass. You'll be famous, the most famous woman on Montmartre."
"Do you promise?" She looked up, and her look was still hurt, but soft.
I smiled. "Yes, I promise."
She bit her lower lip and wiped away a tear from her cheek that hat stolen away from her eye. Then, I didn't expect it, she hugged me and buried her face on my neck. "Harold…" She sniffled. "If I just may dance, I'll do every, everything!"
I laid my arms around her, around her fragile, hurt, wonderful body, and held her tight. "I'll do everything for you, my darling, to make your life easier."
She loosed the embrace a bit and looked at me, and she seemed much older than she was. "Then let me dance. Just dance."
I nodded. And, slowly, a smile came to her lips, perhaps the most beautiful one I ever saw with her. "I love you, Harold", she said softly. "I don't care whether it counts or not, I love you, mon père."
"Ma petite", I whispered and kissed her on the forehead. "Do you forgive me?"
She nodded, and tears were running down her cheeks. "Yes."
The same evening, Satine was on stage for the first time together with the other courtesans from the Moulin Rouge. The customers were enthusiastic about the young blood among the dancers, and the offers were outbidding each other. The chosen one was a young, at least a bit handsome lord from England who was just visiting Paris. She had chosen him herself, and the way she was treating him even seemed to me, who was knowing about her, just as if she had never done anything else than being on stage, dancing, turning the men on and finally giving herself to one of them.