Chapter 6: Newcomers
"Dashing daisy!" Harold exclaimed urgently.
"No, Harold," Celestine said, "How could you? It is bad enough that you and Tómas thrust me into this life. Satine was supposed to stay out of it."
"You should have thought of that before you murdered your husband," Harold said, turning stern. Satine was almost frightened by him when he became angry.
"Oh, so I should have let him rape Satine? Is that what you're telling me, Harold?" Celestine shot back.
Satine winced and pulled her knees to her chest. She tuned her mother's and Harold's fighting out. It distantly reminded her of when she would cover her parents' arguments with her imaginings of Jane Eyre, Hamlet, and The Iliad.
When Satine had walked into the apartment, her mother had wiped her tears and explained to Satine that she had gone back into the dance hall with Jacques to find Marie and had seen Satine dancing. She probed ad to whether Satine had been paid for any services.
No, she hadn't.
Why did she betray her mother?
She wanted to act.
Had Harold told her that dancing in his club would help her become an actress?
Possibly…
There had been other questions. Finally, Celestine had had enough and crawled into the bed. Satine stayed up, guilt, anger and unhappiness flooded her chest.
That morning, after dressing, Celestine had marched themselves over to Harold's office.
"Harold!" Celestine's sharp voice caused Satine to come back to an attentive state, "She's my daughter; not yours. We're leaving. You will not have the chance to turn my Satine into a prostitute. Do I make myself clear?"
Celestine seemed to grow a foot taller during the cloudy pause. Harold's eyes flashed with panic. Satine felt hurt.
"Mama," Satine said quietly, "I'm staying."
Celestine shrank to her normal height. "I beg your pardon?"
"I'm staying," Satine repeated, "Don't you understand? This is our home? If I work hard enough and stay here someday a producer will walk in here and find me and I can become a great actress."
Celestine appeared to have been run through with a sword. "No, no, my darling, you can be as great an actress without the help of this place. You have to be strong and work hard, but you can achieve anything without this place."
Satine shook her head. "This place is right for me, Mother. I am twenty-five. No longer the helpless, small girl who listened to everything everyone said. I can make my own choices here."
"No…darling…you can't. You have no control here. He controls absolutely everything," Celestine said, pointing to Harold.
"Celestine," Harold said softly, "You have to let the girl decide."
Celestine looked at her shoes. She was weeping. Satine could see the shining line of salt water hanging on the rim of the blue eyes. Satine felt annoyed at this. Why did her mother's tears always fill her with guilt that she didn't need or want? Such a thing shouldn't do that. She should feel nothing but contentment now that she had finally made her own decision.
Celestine lifted her head, "Very well."
She moved towards Satine to embracer her. Satine knew her mother would go pack her things and leave for Jacques' as soon as she parted from the connection. Satine would stay. And for the first time, she would be apart from her mother daily. She knew she should return the loving gesture. But something in Celestine's teary, puffy eyes made Satine feel repulsed.
She pulled away.
Celestine looked at her in something like shock. But she didn't seem surprised either. She nodded and quitted the room.
With her new freedom, Satine danced, flirted and met with friends of Harold.
"Satine, my darling sparrow," Harold said one night, leading her to a table where four very strange looking men sat, "These men have come to me with a proposition."
The nightlife of the Moulin Rouge swirled about them as Satine and Harold took a seat.
"My, my, my!" exclaimed a member of the group. He seemed to be a cross between a man and a woman. His hair was long and dyed a dark blue. His face was made up and he wore an excessive amount of jewelry and frills. Satine suppressed her laughter, "This woman is gorgeous!"
"This is Satine, our sparkling diamond," Harold said, "Darling, this is Monsieur Audrey. He is a writer. Among him are his artistic friends."
"Mademoiselle," said another man, stretching out his short arm. He appeared to be a dwarf with a lisp, "My name is Henri Raymond Toulouse Lautrec Montfa. But please…swimply call me Toulouse."
"It's lovely to meet you, Toulouse," Satine said, putting on an airy voice. Satine turned her attention to the man sitting, (or sleeping rather) next to Toulouse, "And who is this?"
"Ah, yesth," said Toulouse, "This isth Abel Narciso. He isth from Argentina. Therefore we swimply call him the Argentinean. He suffers from narcowepsy. He frequently fwalls asleep mid-stride. You'll have to forgive him."
"Oh," Satine said, swiftly.
"Ah…Monsieur Narciso is a tango dancer, my pet," Harold explained, "He shall dance here."
"I'm Satie," said a bald, yet young man, with eccentric eyeglasses and clothing "I am an aspiring musician."
"Would you like a drink, young, fine lady?" another member of the party asked. This man sported a long, tangled, gray beard, droopy eyelids and a wayward top hat.
"Er, thies is the Dwoctor," Toulouse explained.
"Oh," Satine said, "You're a doctor?"
"I am dammed terrified of doctors," the elder man said, drunkenly.
"No, my dwear. We call him the Dwoctor. He is a master of lighting and other, shall we say, special effectsth," Toulouse said.
"Oh, I see," Satine said, "So what is this proposition you have for Harold?"
The five men all took a deep sip from their absinthe glasses before falling into an overlapping, drunken conversation.
"Bloody hell," Harold muttered, "Gentlemen…gentlemen…please."
The group quieted. Harold continued, "Mademoiselle Satine, Audrey has come here to Monmatre to take part in a rising movement, called the Bohemian Revolution. He intends to write a show. With the help of Toulouse, Satie, the Argentinean and the, er, Doctor, and my fantastic venue, we intend to create the first Bohemian Revolutionary show. We intend to turn the Moulin Rouge into a theatre. And you, my delicious strawberry, shall be the star of this show."
Satine looked back at Harold to confirm that she heard him right.
"Really?" was all she could get out.
"Indeed, my dear," Audrey said.
"How long will this…project take?" she asked.
"Uh…three to four…years," Harold said hesitantly.
"You're sure this can take place, Harold," she asked.
"The Argentinean declares we need stronger dancers, more provocative structure…I have written to an old friend of mine; a very talented Lady of the Evening, if you will. I have asked her to join us here. She has replied with enthusiasm and is bringing three of her colleagues. They shall be my Diamond Dogs. But you, darling sparrow, shall be the Moulin Rouge's very own Sparkling Diamond," Harold said.
"The Sparkling Diamond?" Satine asked.
"Indeed, darling!" Toulouse said, "While Audwry, Satie, the Argentin'an and the Doctor work on creating the first Revwowootionary Show, Zidwer will work on building your soon-to-be infamous repwrutation, while I do the simwar with the Moulin Rouge's!"
"The Moulin Rouge's reputation?"
"You swee, Mademoiselle Satine, I am a painter. I shall paint what I see here and all of Paris will desire to come see its illwoustreous content!" Toulouse exclaimed.
Harold smirked and held up his glass, "To the Moulin Rouge?"
"To the Moulin Rouge!" the group exclaimed and clinked their glasses over the head of the unconscious Argentinean.
The very next week Harold began to morph the nightclub into a classier attraction.
He was now in the process of giving the dancers certain identities and instructed the hired seamstresses to create costumes to mate these identities.
"You, my dear," Harold told one dancer, "Will be Garden Girl. And you….we'll call you Tattoo in light of those provocative new markings on your…er…body." He chuckled.
"Well, well, well," came a voice from the entrance, "If it isn't Monsieur Harold Zidler; leader of the Parisian Underworld."
A tall, malicious looking woman stood in the large doorway. Behind her stood three other women. One was particularly large and the other two were tanned, twin beauties.
"Ha ha!" Harold exclaimed upon recognizing the women, "It's Nini Legs in the Air!"
She cackled as they greeted one another. She was over-dressed. Satine and Marie observed from their chairs on the side.
"Oh, you sultry minx, you have arrived at last!" Harold bellowed, "And whom have you brought with you?"
Nini motioned for the large woman to step forward, "This is Madame Fromage."
Madam Fromage presented Harold with her hand for him to kiss it. She wore a very frill, mauve gown and her frizzy hair was bleached and contrasted with her dark eye makeup. Yet, she had a kind face.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Madame Fromage said.
"And these two are twin sisters," Nini said, waving her gloved hand at the two others, "Arabia and China Doll."
The both received kisses from Harold as well. "I am delighted to have you here! You shall be my infamous Diamond Dogs. Now, let me introduce you to our star, our Sparkling Diamond, Mademoiselle Satine."
Confusion broke over Nini's face as Harold brought Satine over to the group.
"It is a pleasure to have you join us," Satine said saucily. She could seem to rip the tone from her voice at any time. She stuck out her hand to greet Nini.
Nini, however, rudely ignored it. "Excuse me, Harold, this…girl is your star?" she asked sharply.
"Why…yes," Harold said, quite lost.
Nini walked into a corner, waving her muff about, clearly wanting Harold to follow. He did.
Satine was left standing with Madam Fromage, Arabia and China Doll. The twins giggled and Madame Fromage greeted Satine.
"Are you new in the Evening business, dearie?" the woman asked.
"Oh. I don't work, er…directly with the male clients. I am simply part of the show. I am an actress," Satine explained.
Madame Fromage laughed, "You will work directly soon enough."
"No, you don't understand. I am Harold Zidler's niece. He won't sell me," Satine clarified.
The woman laughed again, "From what Nini tells me of Zidler, he would sell his grandmother if a client would take her."
Before Satine could say anything, Nini erupted with shrieks.
"You liar!" she said, and began towards the entrance. By this time, all attention was on Nini and Harold.
"Oh, my dear, dear, saucy pet," Harold said after her, "I am incredibly sorry for this unfortunate understanding! I never meant to make you believe such a thing!"
"Oh please, Harold. You intimated that I would be the star here in your letter. Now I see that it was only a plot to make me leave Venice for your rat hole in Paris!" Nini said. Her heels seemed to clip the floor.
"No! Never!" Harold said. Marie snorted a laugh.
"You are unbelievable, Zidler," Nini said, turning to face him, "How could you chose your talent less chit of a niece to be your star over me? She has never hand the experience of selling herself as I have!"
"But she will soon enough, Nini!" Harold said.
"I will?" Satine asked. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. Her uncle gave her a look that plainly stated he would speak with her later on the subject.
"Nini! Didn't I mention that you will be the, er…Captainess of the Diamond Dogs? Wanted by every male who enters this miraculous stage?" Harold asked desperately. His blue eyes were wide with panic.
"What?" Nini asked. Interest flashed in her dark eyes.
"The Captainess of the Diamond Dogs!" Harold repeated, "You shall be what attracts the men here. You are our bait! I will even have Toulouse pain you! You will be widely advertised in every absinthe bar in Paris!"
Toulouse raised his drunken head at the mention of his name. "Yesth Zidwer?"
All five bohemians had become a permanent landmark at the Moulin Rouge; always drinking and claiming that they were meditating on the show. Nothing seemed to get done, however.
"Advertised widely, you say?" Nini asked.
"Wider than the Atlantic, sultry doe!" Harold said.
"Zidler, I better be offered quite a lot," she said threateningly, poking his chest.
"You will!" Harold said.
"I have your word?" Nini asked coldly.
"My most dependable word, love," he said.
"Very well."
"Ha ha! Welcome to the Moulin Rouge!" Harold performed a short dance on the spot.
Before Nini quitted the dance hall, she leaned her head to Satine's ear.
"Do not get in my way, chit," Nini said so low, Satine could barely hear her.
"I won't do it!" Satine said, "I will perform in these things you call shows, but I will not lower myself into prostitution!"
"But cherub!" Harold protested urgently, "We need the money. A financier can only give so much. We need to build a reputation. You will become famous throughout Europe this way!"
"As a prostitute? No! I am an actress. What you ask of me is everything my mother did not want to happen. It made her miserable, Harold. I saw it," Satine said.
"Your mother didn't see the potential this place has, Satine. You do. You and I envision great things for the Moulin Rouge. We can see wealthy men and not just the scum of Monmatre sitting at our tables. You will be an actress. You working for me is simply a way of getting there. If you don't, I can't keep you here or help you. I will make Nini the star," Harold said.
Competitive flames burst in Satine's chest. "Nini?"
"Yes, I am afraid so. Listen, people have done worse to get to where they want to be. And really, prostitution requires acting. You must make these men believe you are theirs, when in reality, they and their money is yours. Men will send you luxuries. They will praise you, worship you. They are what will make you a star, darling. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain."
"I will not work as a prostitute forever; that you must promise me, Harold. You must promise me that I will be a great actress. Make sure I make my mother proud," Satine said. She discovered she was on her knees, her slender hands enslaved by Harold's strong ones.
"You have my most dependable word," he said, smiling.