Le Diamant
I returned to the Moulin Rouge desolate and surely as broken as Christian had appeared. The words I spoke to him, the performance I had given, left a hollow void in my heart that was filled only by my own guilt, and a small sense of loathing at myself that I could be capable of doing such a thing. In my own way, I thought, I was no better than Harold or the Duke – I was more than simply a victim of circumstance, as much as I tried to tell myself otherwise.
Uncertainty ran through my mind, wondering, wondering if perhaps I could have made things a bit different, bargained a little better – or even convinced Christian to leave of his own free will, safe and content in the knowledge that I loved him. I had done what I thought was necessary, but the ends did not truly justify the means.
Harold took the silent nod I gave him as affirmation I had carried out the task. Minutes ticked by slowly, in the way that always makes it seem as if time moves more slowly when you are unhappy, before he and the Duke would both receive their solid proof that I had done what was required of me, in the form of Christian's heartbroken cry – fighting over the sound of the rain pouring outside and the claps of thunder that shook the sky.
I turned to gaze out the window at him, but had to look away after catching only a fleeting glimpse. At the distance, I could make out little more than his silhouette against the hazy sky and rain-drenched street, but that was enough.
Memories came flooding through my mind at a frenetic pace – I realized, the same pace with which our courtship had been carried out, or perhaps it had only seemed to move so quickly.
"Satine!"
Yes, silly of me, to think that you could fall in love with someone like me.
I can't fall in love with anyone.
"Satine!"
Why shouldn't the courtesan choose the maharajah?
Because she doesn't love you!
"Satine!"
I don't care. I don't care about the show. We love each other, and that's all that matters.
We're creatures of the underworld – we can't afford to love.
The desperate cries faded away, and it didn't even take another glance out of the window for me to know that Christian was gone. I exhaled a sigh, moving over to sit at my dressing table, and reached for the script that was sitting there, half rolled from frequent use, its pages dog-eared. I stared at it for a lingering moment and began to flip idly through the sheets of paper, reflecting sadly upon the tale of the courtesan and her sitar player.
Then the door opened with no preceding knock and I glanced up to see the Duke standing there. He wore a smug half-smile of satisfaction, the smile of a man who knows he's won, even if he had to cheat to do so. I turned away and stared back into the mirror, watching in the reflection as he strode across the room to stand beside me.
He remained station there for a moment, before with a movement at my left he extended a dark blue velvet box – the same one, I knew, that held the exquisite diamond necklace.
"I do believe that you mistakenly left this in the tower last night, my dear," he stated, setting it down on the tabletop.
I said nothing, simply glanced down at the box, before meeting his eyes in the mirror with a look that I knew was hard, even without turning to my own reflection. There was no more room for a useless façade – the Duke could play all the games he wanted, but I was no longer is marionette. The strings had been cut along with my ties to Christian.
"Well, I shall see you after the show, then. When the curtain falls," he finally continued, then turned to leave.
I didn't move until he was out the door, and even then it was a moment before I summoned the will to open that box, eyes settling on the necklace – made from hundreds of diamonds, all cut of the same perfect shape – that lay inside. Many women would have found it beautiful, and envied me my position, I thought bitterly, slamming the lid shut again.
None of it mattered anymore.
The door opened again, this time with a soft knock, and Marie stepped inside, having come to help me prepare for the show. My breathing had begun to get ragged again, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew my time was growing short. Somehow, the prospect of death didn't bother me, though – when your existence is such, it might be said that death comes as a welcome relief.
Marie, who had become such a kind and motherly figure to me over the years, rested a comforting hand on my shoulder, but said nothing. Nothing needed to be said – I knew what she was thinking, and I loved her for it.
"Diamonds are forever, Marie," I told her quietly, "That's what they say . . ."
And tonight, I would be Le Diamant one last time.