... "Doctor! Dr. Royer-Collard? Oh, doctor this is most urgent!" Charlotte wept. Ha! As though she cared.
"Yes Charlotte." He muttered, gazing dreamily up from Bouchòn's chart. His eyes smiled. For what I shall never know, and will henceforth never have the need to.
"Nöelle. You told me to watch over Nöelle. I swear it, either Maddie's somewhere among us, or Coulmier's told her something. She acts just like Madeline, Doctor. The humanity!" And justly so! She swooned, acting as though she needed be faint over such a trivial situation.
"No worries, mon petit minet. What makes you think so, dear?"
"She bade me tattle on her when I caught her speaking to Coulmier through his north port. She even branded me a--..."
"Yes?"
"A whore." She whispered. And at that very same whisper a blush crept up her pallid face. A traitor, a bloody hypocrite such as she, daring to blush at such a vulgar little quip? It is to laugh; yet I am unable. I have learned many things about our little princess, one of which angers me to the point that I must run to my quarters or be sick, or serve Charlotte a flogging she'll never forget.
In the months, nay e'en days before my beloved Marquis' death, she would have rather had raging animalistic sex with Dr. Royer-Collard then to read but a word of the Marquis' works.
Now she does both. The irony, yes?
"I suggest that you give Nöelle some space, hmm?"
"But doctor!?" She protested. He stopped her in mid mutter by brushing a gentle finger across her lips. Considering the very type of woman she was, it came as a great surprise to me that she didn't bite it off.
"Un peu?" He coaxed...
...I stood silent by Madeline's tomb. It was the most beautiful architectural work I had set eyes upon since being recruited to work in this psychiatric prison. The moment the Marquis heard of Madeline's death he'd beseeched the Abbè de Coulmier to give her a proper burial, far from the cruel walls of Charenton. And so a large catacomb was constructed, and a pillar inside for her fair frame to rest upon. Large and ominous marble angels loomed over the entry as though to keep her safe.
The Marquis' request was heeded, but not as well as it could have been, for she was outside the walls of Charenton, however a single upward glance would send my gaze though Pitou's window. There he sat (much like everyday) running a brush over his rather bald scalp. He believed himself to be a woman with lush thick, full hair. Nobody could ever tell him differently.
"Tell me, Madeline. Did you love the Marquis as I do? I never met him or knew him as you did, but when his name is mentioned, or I speak with Coulmier, I feel his icy touch across the small of my back. He tells me he's there almost every minute."
With one last glance I knew it was time to resume my post.
"Goodbye, angel."...
... "I knew you were at her tomb! I knew it. Is my advice falling on deaf ears?"
"Leave me be, Charlotte!"
"All I want to know is that you aren't turning into her! I never liked her, to tell the truth I was right happy when she died."
At the sick resonance of those last few words my hands flew before my mind could even trigger any sort of proper behavior response. I backhanded her across the face and she fell to the floor.
"HOW-- HOW DARE YOU?!?!?! IF THERE IS A GOD IN HEAVEN MAY HE STRIKE YOU DEAD THIS INSTANT!" She stared up at me, a frightened kitten ready to scramble beneath some dark, spider infested foundation. "And if he doesn't... I promise you that I will."
"I'll be watching you! I'll know!!!"
"You'll know nothing, poppet."...
"Yes Charlotte." He muttered, gazing dreamily up from Bouchòn's chart. His eyes smiled. For what I shall never know, and will henceforth never have the need to.
"Nöelle. You told me to watch over Nöelle. I swear it, either Maddie's somewhere among us, or Coulmier's told her something. She acts just like Madeline, Doctor. The humanity!" And justly so! She swooned, acting as though she needed be faint over such a trivial situation.
"No worries, mon petit minet. What makes you think so, dear?"
"She bade me tattle on her when I caught her speaking to Coulmier through his north port. She even branded me a--..."
"Yes?"
"A whore." She whispered. And at that very same whisper a blush crept up her pallid face. A traitor, a bloody hypocrite such as she, daring to blush at such a vulgar little quip? It is to laugh; yet I am unable. I have learned many things about our little princess, one of which angers me to the point that I must run to my quarters or be sick, or serve Charlotte a flogging she'll never forget.
In the months, nay e'en days before my beloved Marquis' death, she would have rather had raging animalistic sex with Dr. Royer-Collard then to read but a word of the Marquis' works.
Now she does both. The irony, yes?
"I suggest that you give Nöelle some space, hmm?"
"But doctor!?" She protested. He stopped her in mid mutter by brushing a gentle finger across her lips. Considering the very type of woman she was, it came as a great surprise to me that she didn't bite it off.
"Un peu?" He coaxed...
...I stood silent by Madeline's tomb. It was the most beautiful architectural work I had set eyes upon since being recruited to work in this psychiatric prison. The moment the Marquis heard of Madeline's death he'd beseeched the Abbè de Coulmier to give her a proper burial, far from the cruel walls of Charenton. And so a large catacomb was constructed, and a pillar inside for her fair frame to rest upon. Large and ominous marble angels loomed over the entry as though to keep her safe.
The Marquis' request was heeded, but not as well as it could have been, for she was outside the walls of Charenton, however a single upward glance would send my gaze though Pitou's window. There he sat (much like everyday) running a brush over his rather bald scalp. He believed himself to be a woman with lush thick, full hair. Nobody could ever tell him differently.
"Tell me, Madeline. Did you love the Marquis as I do? I never met him or knew him as you did, but when his name is mentioned, or I speak with Coulmier, I feel his icy touch across the small of my back. He tells me he's there almost every minute."
With one last glance I knew it was time to resume my post.
"Goodbye, angel."...
... "I knew you were at her tomb! I knew it. Is my advice falling on deaf ears?"
"Leave me be, Charlotte!"
"All I want to know is that you aren't turning into her! I never liked her, to tell the truth I was right happy when she died."
At the sick resonance of those last few words my hands flew before my mind could even trigger any sort of proper behavior response. I backhanded her across the face and she fell to the floor.
"HOW-- HOW DARE YOU?!?!?! IF THERE IS A GOD IN HEAVEN MAY HE STRIKE YOU DEAD THIS INSTANT!" She stared up at me, a frightened kitten ready to scramble beneath some dark, spider infested foundation. "And if he doesn't... I promise you that I will."
"I'll be watching you! I'll know!!!"
"You'll know nothing, poppet."...