Chapter 5. The Sparkling Diamond's Story

"And this, my dear, is The Sparkling Diamond." Harod held out his hands to present the woman before me.

Long legs, blonde hair that was fair enough to be white, and far too much make-up, the lady looked the part of the courtesans that worked for my uncle. Dressed in an outrageous gown that glittered and left nothing to the viewer's imagination, she let out a smile as white as her hair and fluttered her eyes.

"She shall show you all there is to know about being a lady."

"Her?" I laughed. "You will have a woman accustomed to being various men's mistress, teach me how to become a lady?"

"Pardon me," she stepped in, a defensive look upon her face. "This is what I do to survive, mademoiselle. It is not an honorable job, but it is a job nonetheless. I am still a lady."

"Of course," I smiled. "So am I."

"I will let you… ladies… get to know one another."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen."

"And Harod expects a girl a year older than I to somehow teach me to become a lady?"

"I needed to go somewhere no one could find me," the girl shrugged. "My parents wanted me to wed some man and he was just unbearable. The Moulin Rouge is the last place they would look for me."

"So you didn't willingly want to go here? It was just a last resort?"

"What woman willingly wishes to play the part of a whore?"

"What do you suggest I do?" I sat down atop my bed. "I am not in the least bit enthusiastic about being taught to be a lady only to my uncle's satisfaction. I have no plans to follow his wishes and marry some ridiculous man I have never met. I have my own dreams."

"Don't we all?" The Sparkling Diamond laughed and sat beside me. "Women aren't valued, my dear. We are only as good as the men who will have us, and doesn't that put us in an awkward position? The man my parents are forcing upon me is quite wealthy. Noble family. Great title. Gorgeous home with servants that would do everything for me. But the fellow is such a dud. I could never imagine sitting through a day with him. We have nothing in common! Nothing to talk about. I would die of boredom before the end of our wedding night!"

"At least he isn't horrid," I reminded. "I mean, he could be some horrendous, unfeeling oaf of a man who gambled or drank too much or…"

"Edmund doesn't have the gall to do any of those things," she shook her head. "Corpses are more livelier than he. I want romance. And adventure. Passion. Beauty. Love."

"Find yourself some Bohemian artist, and you shall be fine. There are plenty in Paris, as we all know quite well enough."

"My parents would never approve," she answered. "Which was why I ran away. I hope that if I leave home long enough, I might encounter someone of the sort and he shall take me away."

"And you think you will find that person in the Moulin Rouge?"

"Why, yes, I do."

"But why?"

"Have you not heard of the love stories?" she questioned. "A story of truth, beauty, freedom, and love. It is the greatest love story I have ever heard. And it all took place within the Moulin Rouge."

"I cannot imagine any true love coming from this place."

"Oh, but there was one!" she scooted closer, enthralled in an unspoken story. "The girl was Harod's star. Gorgeous beyond words. She could manipulate men into doing anything. She was known as The Sparkling Diamond."

"Am I in for a story, then?"

"Yes, but it shall be worth it. And it is quite a long one, so I will only be able to tell you so much each time we meet. This young girl had everything going for her. Harod had it all arranged. She was to marry the duke, a rather presumptuous fellow, if you must, but he was wealthy and could give her everything she ever dreamed of. Little did she know of the love she would soon encounter. Greater than anything she had ever experienced before. And the sickness that would come and end it all…"

So began the story of The Sparkling Diamond. Every day since, she would come, and while dressing me up, in-between her lessons of propriety and curling my hair, slipping me into corsets, and all other so-called luxuries us women must undergo, I would hear further tales of this Sparkling Diamond and the young man who stepped into her life.

Was it no wonder that I began anticipating her visits and soon forgot of the young writer who had first given me inspiration? For certainly this story of truth, beauty, freedom, and love provided me with more inspiration than anything that writer had or ever could do.

"They fell in love, didn't they?" I inquired as we walked down the streets, pretending to ignore the hoots of approval from male passerby behind our parasols and curls.

"I wouldn't call it a love story if they didn't, now would I?" Cecille giggled and waved at a man who had ran into a woman pouring coffee for a couple at a café.

"Imagine someone singing such a song to you," I let out a deep breath, relishing the words before singing them out. "I hope you don't mind. I hope you don't mind. That I put down in words. How wonderful life is while you're in the world." (1)

"Isabel?"

My song came to an end when Cecille and I crossed paths with a young man who gazed at us like a deer in the headlights, or… perhaps… more like a kid in a candy store. In a tattered jacket I had tripped over only a week or so ago.

1. Elton John "Your Song"