Chapter IV
How short-lived the Bohemian Revolution, how faded its league. Christian almost didn't recognize his friends when his eyes roved over the confines of Toulouse's studio/home. There they sat, eyes glazed over, signaling the descent into many glasses of Absinthe. The Argentinean stumbled when he tried to walk, the Doctor's beard was a tangled disarray and he looked distant, and Satie's hands trembled so that when he tried to put his fingers to piano keys, no music would flow from them.
Christian suppressed a look of shock; he'd been gone for but weeks, and look at the mess of his friends. Even the shortest bit of time can change someone so drastically, he mused. "Hello, Christian," slurred the Argentinean, lifting his glass sloppily and watching as the liquid splashed to the ground. "We've got a plan!" Toulouse's lisp was triumphant, and his grin was almost as broad as Christian's.
"A plan?" Quizzical looks from the other three as they responded. "Yes," Christian stepped forward and thrust the newspaper at them. "Read."
"Prince of Wales to view theatrical performance?"
"No, the one below that."
"Parisian actress to wed Duke of Monroth . . .Duke of Monroth . . ." The Doctor's voice trailed off incoherently. "Oh! A Parisian actress is marrying the Duke!" Sprang the words of realization from the mouth of Satie. "No, you idiots." Toulouse took the paper and snapped it smartly, all eyes on the droplets of absinthe that fell to the floor as he did so. "He's marrying Satine!"
While Toulouse was telling his cohorts the tragic but dramatic tale of Satine's betrayal and betrothal, Christian poured and lit two glasses of the magical green liquid. He felt that welcome sensation as it burned down his throat, wanting it to lure him into that oh-so-familiar world of disillusionment, but the Green Fairy would not come to him tonight. So he put down his glass and lit a cigarette instead. "And what's our plan?" Drawled the Doctor, extinguishing his smoldering cigar underneath his heel.
"We've got to save her!"
"Toulouse, you're crazy."
"That's what I said," Christian replied. "But Toulouse is right. Even after what she's done, you all love Satine and I love Satine. Please, my friends, let's save the Bohemian Revolution by saving Satine."
Toulouse and Christian described their plan to a half-listening audience. "The Duke has two homes, one here in France and the other in England."
"England, where I hail from," Christian added. "Next week, the papers should be announcing the date of the wedding and the location."
"Christian?" Asked Satie, putting down his glass momentarily. His eyes were limpid pools of brown, kind and understanding though glassy. "How can you be sure she still loves you?"
Christian stopped and stared, dumbfounded by the question, and Toulouse's face contorted into a half-snarl, half-shocked gaze. "Satie! How dare you say that! You know she does! You've seen it with your own eyes just as I have; maybe you were too drunk to remember!" Toulouse spat. Christian was taken aback by the violent show of emotion Toulouse had just portrayed. "Toulouse, settle down."
"We all know Satine doesn't want to marry that weasel," the Argentinean drawled. "But what are we gonna do about it?"
"That's easy. We're going to kidnap her."
"Kidnap her?" "Yes. Now go and pack what little you own. We're taking a train to London."
It was early evening by the time the posse had assembled: the Argentinean in his "traveling suit," the Doctor carrying a camera and suitcase, Toulouse with a small sketch pad, Satie with a violin, Christian with the little he owned, and the newest members, Nini and Chocolat. Satine's closet confidantes (and sometime rival, in Nini's case) were to be key instruments in their quest. "Where're we going, Shakespeare?" Nini asked, plunking down her suitcase and dropping down beside Toulouse on a red brocade train seat. "We're going to London; my family will house us there until the wedding day arrives." He stated. "But if my father disagrees with that, I suppose we'll have to hole up in some cheap hotel."
"All aboard for London! All aboard for London on the 4505! All aboard!" The conductor's loud baritone boomed out across Paris, drifting through the fog that inhabited the city. And then the train set off, a cloud of smoke the only lasting remainder long after it had departed.
His comrades were asleep, lulled by the steady chug of the train and tired of the scenery that flashed so uninterestingly before them. But Christian stayed awake.
He turned to Nini, who slept soundly beside him. Her hair was long and loose, wild corkscrew curls that were usually bound now free. Without a trace of those garish cosmetics she wore to enhance her features at night, she looked almost girlish, almost innocent. And beside them were Toulouse, whose face turned towards the window in an expression of longing even though he was asleep. Chocolat's long, muscular limbs stretched across the short length of their seat like a jungle cat's. The other Bohemians slept crumpled together in a heap as though together they were protected from the hazards a drunkard could face.
How was he sure that this trip was more than just a bohemian fantasy? It worked in storybooks, but really, could saving Satine from the clutches of an evil duke really happen? Whatever this mission truly was, Christian would keep his hopeful boyishness. It hadn't failed him yet.
The moon in its silvery glory illuminated the new green of the grass, electric and far more beautiful than anything he'd seen in the Moulin Rouge, but for Satine, of course. Stars twinkled like tiny diamond chips and all of this beauty just made his heart ache. Though Paris had been a city of great hope and then, in the end, lost dreams, lost love, Christian could barely part with its breathtaking beauty . . . and unfathomable ugliness.
Though it hurt him to leave, Christian reassured himself that the gentle movement of the train was taking him home, and to her.
EOC4 (Where have all the reviews gone?)
How short-lived the Bohemian Revolution, how faded its league. Christian almost didn't recognize his friends when his eyes roved over the confines of Toulouse's studio/home. There they sat, eyes glazed over, signaling the descent into many glasses of Absinthe. The Argentinean stumbled when he tried to walk, the Doctor's beard was a tangled disarray and he looked distant, and Satie's hands trembled so that when he tried to put his fingers to piano keys, no music would flow from them.
Christian suppressed a look of shock; he'd been gone for but weeks, and look at the mess of his friends. Even the shortest bit of time can change someone so drastically, he mused. "Hello, Christian," slurred the Argentinean, lifting his glass sloppily and watching as the liquid splashed to the ground. "We've got a plan!" Toulouse's lisp was triumphant, and his grin was almost as broad as Christian's.
"A plan?" Quizzical looks from the other three as they responded. "Yes," Christian stepped forward and thrust the newspaper at them. "Read."
"Prince of Wales to view theatrical performance?"
"No, the one below that."
"Parisian actress to wed Duke of Monroth . . .Duke of Monroth . . ." The Doctor's voice trailed off incoherently. "Oh! A Parisian actress is marrying the Duke!" Sprang the words of realization from the mouth of Satie. "No, you idiots." Toulouse took the paper and snapped it smartly, all eyes on the droplets of absinthe that fell to the floor as he did so. "He's marrying Satine!"
While Toulouse was telling his cohorts the tragic but dramatic tale of Satine's betrayal and betrothal, Christian poured and lit two glasses of the magical green liquid. He felt that welcome sensation as it burned down his throat, wanting it to lure him into that oh-so-familiar world of disillusionment, but the Green Fairy would not come to him tonight. So he put down his glass and lit a cigarette instead. "And what's our plan?" Drawled the Doctor, extinguishing his smoldering cigar underneath his heel.
"We've got to save her!"
"Toulouse, you're crazy."
"That's what I said," Christian replied. "But Toulouse is right. Even after what she's done, you all love Satine and I love Satine. Please, my friends, let's save the Bohemian Revolution by saving Satine."
Toulouse and Christian described their plan to a half-listening audience. "The Duke has two homes, one here in France and the other in England."
"England, where I hail from," Christian added. "Next week, the papers should be announcing the date of the wedding and the location."
"Christian?" Asked Satie, putting down his glass momentarily. His eyes were limpid pools of brown, kind and understanding though glassy. "How can you be sure she still loves you?"
Christian stopped and stared, dumbfounded by the question, and Toulouse's face contorted into a half-snarl, half-shocked gaze. "Satie! How dare you say that! You know she does! You've seen it with your own eyes just as I have; maybe you were too drunk to remember!" Toulouse spat. Christian was taken aback by the violent show of emotion Toulouse had just portrayed. "Toulouse, settle down."
"We all know Satine doesn't want to marry that weasel," the Argentinean drawled. "But what are we gonna do about it?"
"That's easy. We're going to kidnap her."
"Kidnap her?" "Yes. Now go and pack what little you own. We're taking a train to London."
It was early evening by the time the posse had assembled: the Argentinean in his "traveling suit," the Doctor carrying a camera and suitcase, Toulouse with a small sketch pad, Satie with a violin, Christian with the little he owned, and the newest members, Nini and Chocolat. Satine's closet confidantes (and sometime rival, in Nini's case) were to be key instruments in their quest. "Where're we going, Shakespeare?" Nini asked, plunking down her suitcase and dropping down beside Toulouse on a red brocade train seat. "We're going to London; my family will house us there until the wedding day arrives." He stated. "But if my father disagrees with that, I suppose we'll have to hole up in some cheap hotel."
"All aboard for London! All aboard for London on the 4505! All aboard!" The conductor's loud baritone boomed out across Paris, drifting through the fog that inhabited the city. And then the train set off, a cloud of smoke the only lasting remainder long after it had departed.
His comrades were asleep, lulled by the steady chug of the train and tired of the scenery that flashed so uninterestingly before them. But Christian stayed awake.
He turned to Nini, who slept soundly beside him. Her hair was long and loose, wild corkscrew curls that were usually bound now free. Without a trace of those garish cosmetics she wore to enhance her features at night, she looked almost girlish, almost innocent. And beside them were Toulouse, whose face turned towards the window in an expression of longing even though he was asleep. Chocolat's long, muscular limbs stretched across the short length of their seat like a jungle cat's. The other Bohemians slept crumpled together in a heap as though together they were protected from the hazards a drunkard could face.
How was he sure that this trip was more than just a bohemian fantasy? It worked in storybooks, but really, could saving Satine from the clutches of an evil duke really happen? Whatever this mission truly was, Christian would keep his hopeful boyishness. It hadn't failed him yet.
The moon in its silvery glory illuminated the new green of the grass, electric and far more beautiful than anything he'd seen in the Moulin Rouge, but for Satine, of course. Stars twinkled like tiny diamond chips and all of this beauty just made his heart ache. Though Paris had been a city of great hope and then, in the end, lost dreams, lost love, Christian could barely part with its breathtaking beauty . . . and unfathomable ugliness.
Though it hurt him to leave, Christian reassured himself that the gentle movement of the train was taking him home, and to her.
EOC4 (Where have all the reviews gone?)