I've created a Youtube playlist of the concert itself if you wanted to listen along! Since copy and paste doesn't work here, you can go to my YouTube profile, Carolyn Joy, and it will be under "Playlists." The link is also located on my profile page.
EDIT: I realized several months after posting this chapter one of the videos in my YouTube playlist was deleted, and no other recording of that specific Trio Sonata by Mondonville is available on YouTube. If you'd like to listen to it still, a recording is on Spotify. (If you're a student, you should get on that $5 per month deal!) A link to the album is on my profile page. The songs you would need to listen to will be the last four on the album, which are all four movements of No. 6.
Translations: À l'amour, aux plaisirs… - With love, with pleasures, in the grove, use the beautiful days of your age.
Chapter Thirteen: Concert Spirituel
Though the weather remained glorious, by the time they reached the palace around five o' clock, they all showed signs of fatigue. Inside, other aristocrats and visiting foreigners were milling around the foyer and open parlors nearby, sipping on wine and eating hors d'œuvres. The foursome gratefully took their shares and found a cozy corner of one of the drawing rooms to keep to themselves. Much to their appreciation, the other guests paid them little mind but for the occasional scoff and quizzical eye.
After sating their hunger and thirst for the meantime, they were permitted to take one of the second level boxes, which held four quite comfortably. They took their seats, with the women on the ends and the men between them, but at the sight above and below them, the girls were soon on their feet to lean over the balustrade and glimpse the grandeur of the hall.
The rectangular Salle des Cent Suisses had a hand-painted ceiling of a sky as blue as that very day, with clouds dotting it and cherubs shown floating amongst them. Several crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and gold trim gilded the edges of the hall and green velvet boxes. The heavy curtains were open, and the stage was already set for the orchestra, with chairs arranged in a half-moon around the conductor's stand, a harpsichord in the back, and timpani behind the violins' seats.
Bernadette looked back at Babette, and saw that their excitement was matched.
As Lumière watched them look over the program in their hands, he nudged Nicolas at his left. "How much would you wager they will want to leave at intermission?"
Nicolas snorted. "I think you doubt the sincerity of their enthusiasm."
"Not at all!" the maître d' countered. "I am sure they believe they can withstand over an hour's worth of music. My only doubt is in their resilience."
"Fine," Nicolas agreed with a shrug. "But you will be paying for my next drink."
"What is a drink without a meal to go with it?"
The viscount mirrored Lumière's smirk and shook his hand. "We have a deal."
Soon enough, the musicians were filing onto the stage and taking their places. Chatter still filled the audience as the orchestra went about preparing their instruments, but it was hushed as their tuning reverberated throughout the hall. Two seconds of unmitigated quiet and the conductor walked on to applause. After a bow to his guests and a formal greeting and introduction, he turned to the orchestra. With the swing of his arms, the music began.
"Fanfares" was a very fitting name for the piece, highlighting the horns especially, and what an exciting opening. It put Babette right in the mood. The give-and-take from the conductor and musicians was fascinating to witness, and there was an exchange that would happen between the sections when they would take turns on a motif or episode.
And then it concluded.
It caught her off-guard at first, until after a few seconds, they began again, this time not as full of gusto, but more subdued and refined.
She rolled her eyes at herself. It had truly been several years since she had been to a concert to forget how concertos and suites were organized into movements. It was almost like reading another chapter of a book, or watching the next scene of a play.
Babette let the music wash over her, but once she finally felt herself giving over to it, the movement ended. On some level, she found it disappointing.
Nicolas happened to look over at her as she pouted, and chuckled. "Not to your taste?"
"Non, it is!" she hastily replied. "I had let myself become properly immersed, and then—" As the new movement began, Babette tapped her fan on his thigh as she straightened in her seat. "Ssh! I will tell you later!"
The finale wasn't as grand as she had expected, but it reminded her of the opening. Applause followed as soon as the conductor waved his arm to end the piece. He bowed to them, referred to orchestra, who also bowed in thanks, before singling out the horns, winds, and timpani players. They exited the stage as another man took over the harpsichord, and joined those remaining in another piece.
It was most certainly a different feel than the former. It wasn't as energetic, by far. If there wasn't the semi-frequent sudden forte of the strings, Babette might have been lulled to sleep.
But the next movement was a stark contrast, with much more motion in the melodies, ones that were unique enough from each other to the point where Babette could switch her attention from the violins to the cellos at any time.
Once that ended, the musicians returned to a sluggish pace. Lumière glanced at the program on Bernadette's lap, and sighed. "Largo," indeed. Music this agonizingly slow made him impatient and antsy.
"You must remind me," he whispered to Bernadette, "that if I ever suffer from insomnia to call upon these musicians for assistance."
She bit her lips as a laugh almost breached them. "It is rather relaxing," she admitted.
Nicolas leaned toward Lumière to innocently offer, "I am willing to arrange our deal to include you."
The maître d' smirked. "Nice try."
A pointed cough in their direction made them turn to meet Babette's chastising glare. Arguably wary of receiving her wrath, both men promptly stopped talking.
At least the music's energy soon picked up, so all were more willing to pay attention. The theme from the violins was rather catchy, Lumière had to admit.
Hearing a rhythmic clicking from below him, he glanced down to notice Bernadette's skirt shifting due to her tapping toe.
Bernadette saw him watching her and quickly tucked her foot underneath her seat, a delicate blush blooming on her cheeks. "Sorry," she whispered.
"No, no, please," he murmured back, having to smile at her embarrassment. "Do not become self-conscious on my account."
Though soothed slightly by his reassurance, she still appeared chided. "Well, it is probably not ladylike to react to the music as such, especially in a hall like this."
"What else is music for?" he reasoned. "Besides, you need not be concerned about being a perfect lady in our company. I promise none of us will think of you in any other way."
She grinned before shyly averting her gaze. While she focused again on the stage, he found himself watching her for a moment more, musing on the fact that he just might be on the losing side of a bet.
Clapping ensued at the trio sonata's conclusion with Babette's being quite enthusiastic. "Magnifique!" she uttered. "Each movement was so accurate in their portrayal of the emotions and—and colors—" She looked to Nicolas to check, "Would it be correct to say 'colors?'"
Chuckling at her passion, Nicolas shrugged. "That sounds right to me."
Babette beamed at him and contentedly sighed. "Sheer brilliance!"
Two players with a theorbo and viola de gamba in their hands respectively arranged themselves in the space on stage now devoid of the conductor's box. Then a pretty young woman in a cornflower blue gown with a ruffled bodice and delicate lace cuffs graced them with her presence. Combined with her floating walk and graceful posture, a demureness about her face and expression instigated an almost instant liking for her. As she went to stand between the musicians, she smiled and acknowledged the audience and their polite applause.
With brow furrowed in thought, Lumière elbowed his friend.
Because of his intense attention on the singer as well, Nicolas flinched at the prod. "What?"
Still watching the soprano as the accompaniment began, the maître d' inquired, "Does she look familiar to you?"
"You too?"
They met each other's eyes, both silently hoping this coincidence wasn't for what they were thinking. Bernadette managed to reduce her impending giggle at the exchange into a short tuneful hum, but Babette was trying to ignore them as the woman began to sing two-hundred-year-old poetry of the best kind in a soaring, sweet, and clear tone.
"À l'amour, aux plaisirs, au bocage," she reminded the crowd, "employez les beaux jours de votre àge…"
"Ah-ha!" Lumière loudly whispered, snapping his fingers. "It was from that opera we saw only for a moment, before… You remember."
He gave Nicolas a knowing glance that Babette managed to catch because of a glare she was attempting to pierce him with, but her irritation faded when it struck her what he implied. She blurted, "You mean—"
She immediately clutched at her mouth to silence it when Lumière shot her a look, but this only made Nicolas curiously follow his gaze.
It was the La Fleur Noire trip a few years prior—she was sure of it—but that was the one story Lumière had told her that Nicolas had never repeated. In this elaborate scenario Lumière's visit had conjured, she was not supposed to have a clue about it.
Clearing her throat, she corrected herself, "You mean this…" She glanced at the program to check. "Marie Fel? She performs in opera as well?"
With a humored grimace, Nicolas replied, "Apparently. Strange… That is not where my mind went at first."
Lumière laughed, his thoughts clearly having traveled a similar vein, and he relaxed again in his chair.
Babette took a discreet breath of relief at her swift recovery, and wondered for a moment what Lumière would have done to salvage the slip if she hadn't. As much as her feelings were bitter in regards to him, she can't imagine he would have let her suffer for that.
With a sidelong glance at Nicolas, she had half-expected him to explain why on his own, at least to say that he had left that particular opera early to wander town, or the like… but he hadn't. Would it be noted by him if she didn't ask him why? If she did, then she knew she would be putting him on the spot of something acutely uncomfortable for him to mention. She could picture him getting flustered as he tried to dance around the fact that he had gone to a house of ill repute that night and fallen head-over-heels for a cabaret girl.
She pursed her lips and faced forward. Prudently, she decided to keep quiet.
The next song of Mlle Fel's became melancholic, with trembling trills that dotted her phrasing. It was lovely, but it was not the mood Babette had been hoping for. She understood the importance of making sure opposites followed each other for contrast, whether be fast to slow or happy to sad, but that did not mean that strategy suited everyone. Babette would much rather listen to more optimistic tunes than otherwise. Of that, she was certain.
"All right, now I really have to know."
Babette jumped at Nicolas' statement and turned to see him wearing that boyish grin of his. "With your mouth in such a tight pout, something must be amiss," he said.
She tried to erase her expression of all strain as she cleverly teased, "Perhaps I was trying to recall having seen this singer before as well. She and I may have even met each other in passing!"
He hesitated only for a second as he discerned her to be joking. "If you have, I beg of you not to make introductions. Or at least forget to mention both of us had abandoned her operatic debut for… the Parisian streets."
At a slight rise in pitch and brief break in eye contact, he certainly proved to Babette his well-concealed discomfort on the subject. She patted his hand and assured, "I am sure even she could understand how claustrophobic an opera house can feel."
He nodded both in agreement and approval, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Yes, precisely," he said while fitting his hand into hers. "Especially at a premiere!"
A smile grew on her lips. "Let me guess… That was your mother's idea?"
"And we all did our best to humor her," he admitted with a remorseful expression that Babette hummed giggles at. "But my father had fallen asleep before we even left the theatre… My mother was so peeved with us afterwards, she deemed us unfit to escort our own senses!"
He joined her in laughing at the memory, but both covered their mouths when they realized that no music was playing, which only renewed their mirth due to such unfortunate timing.
Lumière eyed them with a mixture of annoyance, resentment, and mild amusement, especially since Nicolas was now the one between them lacking in decorum because of a woman's company. There was no contest on which position he preferred to be in, but despite his chagrin, it was refreshing to see his friend without a care for once.
Almost to follow Nicolas' uncharacteristic behavior, Mlle Fel went on to explain that her next aria is for an upcoming opera where she is to play La Folie, the spirit of madness. With the orchestra having returned, she snapped right into character at the first chord struck by the cellos. As soon as the strings went into a galloping motive, the elegant soprano became very energetic and carefree, convincingly laughing where it fit the music. She managed to even get the audience laughing because her character found the tragic romance of Apollo and Daphne so delightfully funny.
After the thunderous applause through the hall died out, Nicolas said to Lumière, "I am relieved we are not the only ones who find that myth humorous."
"I always believed that was its intention! The idea of a woman so desperate to get away from a god that she begs to become a tree?" Chuckling, he answered himself, "I would find it much more difficult to take that kind of fable seriously. And what makes it laughable is that the concept is not entirely far-fetched." He turned to Bernadette to confirm, "Mademoiselle, am I correct in assuming so?"
"I could not tell you. Thankfully, I have never been placed in a situation of that kind," she answered truthfully, though she grinned at his playful smirk.
"Whether or not the myth itself is funny," Babette sharply intervened, "I found that it was her portrayal that made it so. She was charming! And to have such agility in that high of range… I only wish I could have even a crumb of her talent," she muttered wistfully.
However, her words were not quiet enough to escape other's ears; Bernadette craned against the back of her seat until Mlle Chantemerle was in her sights. "Mistress, if I hear you bemoan any more lack of talent, I will wait and watch to volunteer you in front of company so you cannot refuse to perform for them!"
Babette's jaw dropped, stunned at her maid's sudden courage. Though there was teasing in her expression, Bernadette was clearly miffed, and that only baffled the vicomtesse further.
One of the boys broke the silence with a low impressed whistle, which made them all laugh.
After recovering from her awe, Babette replied, "Bernadette, do you really mean what you say?"
Her maid raised her chin. "You are welcome to test me, my lady."
Lumière cocked an eyebrow, watching her with a newfound respect while trying to hide a smile behind the hand his chin rested on. The girl has spirit!
"Best not disparage yourself in front of her, chérie… or me for that matter," Nicolas added with a mischievous glint in his eye. Babette pierced him with a glare, but to his credit, he didn't shirk. He gently argued, "She means well to make such a threat."
Wearing an incredulous grin, she prompted, "Do you hear what you say? Think carefully, monsieur."
Nicolas leaned close to his betrothed, taking her hand to whisper, "I do, and it is clear to me that despite perhaps certain extraordinary skills in music, we both believe you are still a marvel to behold."
It might have been the sincerity in which he had spoken, or the tenderness in his eyes that held her fast, but Babette found both grated against her guilt-ridden conscience.
She took her hand from his grasp and eyes from his person. "Please, Nicolas, this is not the time and place for that."
He was silent as she adamantly stared at the stage, watching the musicians enter and reclaim their instruments. Though she refused to look at him again as a trio, including a female flautist, prepped to perform, she could feel the gears of his mind turning rapidly to figure out what he had done wrong. She felt awful, as this was not the first time she had subjected him to his own self-doubt, but she had to focus on undoing the knots that had suddenly fastened in her stomach.
Thankfully, the players began their sonata with the flautist at the forefront. Not only was the music elegant in its melodies and tempi, Babette found herself soothed by watching how invested each was in the music, especially the flautist, who subtly rocked to-and-fro with her own phrases. There was even an enigmatic air to the tunes that they played, which kept her intrigued.
While he didn't dislike the current music, Lumière, on the other hand, was finding it hard to concentrate on it. Though Babette had sincerely been trying to whisper, they were apparently in a circumstance where everything between them could be overheard; He very much wished that wasn't the case. What could have prompted such a curt rebuffing of poor Nicolas? They got on so well, he hadn't yet conceived there could be any kind of conflicts between them.
Something else is at work, he discerned. Something that Nicolas does not seem to be aware of… but Bernadette might.
He made a mental note to inquire her about it later—with as much discretion as possible, of course.
For the first time that evening, the four of them had nothing to add when it came time to applaud, despite how the tension had lessened ever slightly. Inadvertently, Lumière and Bernadette exchanged mutually uneasy glances.
As the trio departed, a new gentleman made his way to the harpsichord. At his entrance, there was some more applause, but Babette didn't know why.
Reflexively, she asked, "Who is that?"
Nicolas shrugged. "He must be revered here in town."
Babette watched her betrothed for a moment. His tone was casual, though dulled, like it normally was when he became withdrawn due to discomfort, but again, he did not seem to hold anything against her. She almost wished he would, for it only made her feel worse otherwise.
Respectably dressed in dark colors, the gentleman—a Jacques Duphly, according to the program—acknowledged the applause with grace and took his seat on the instrument's bench. Curiously, to Babette at least, he solemnly bowed his head, gaining focus before lifting his hands carefully to rest on the ebony keys. With a breath, he lunged into his songs. Like Marie Fel, he was perfectly memorized, and he was all the better for it. He had such fine posture, and his fingers seemed to caress every key underneath them, especially in his ornamentations, yet there was an underlying passion that conveyed the character of each piece.
When he completed a song, his hands floated away from the keys and descended lightly to his lap before repeating his process.
Being only an amateur, Lumière observed aspects of M. Duphly's technique for his own use, greatly admiring the harpsichordist's skill, but he soon noted he was not the only one: Next to him, Bernadette leaned eagerly forward on the edge of her seat, visibly enraptured.
At the immediate onset of clapping from the audience, Bernadette faced Lumière in wonder. "Had you seen his fingers move? Such delicacy! It is almost…" She pondered on what word could possibly befit it before choosing with a smile, "Exotic."
He nodded to agree, a mischievous sparkle in his eye as he remarked, "I wonder if other bodies have played so well under his touch."
His grin only widened as her eyebrows shot up. "Bodies?"
Becoming an ideal of composure, he replied, "Oui. Of instruments. What else could I have been referring to?"
She responded with a keen look that spoke volumes, which caused them both to laugh, but her eyes soon went to her lap and her cheeks regained that pinkish glow.
Warmly, he requited, "I apologize. I shall keep such crude jokes to myself from now on."
Bernadette thoughtfully watched M. Duphly return a second time to receive the ongoing applause before she softly said, "I wouldn't mind."
He turned to her, quirking a brow. "Wouldn't mind…?"
With a dainty shrug of her shoulders, she replied, "Being the instrument if he is the player."
She had spoken in such a factual tone that Lumière found himself stunned at such an answer coming from her lips, which quickly took on a sly smile.
Either she adapts marvelously well to present company, or she has a side of her not so easily seen, he discerned. No matter which, she was far exceeding his expectations.
Having to chuckle, he likewise said, "Mademoiselle, I have no doubt that upon encountering you, the roles would be reversed."
With a flattered huff, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Now you are being silly!"
Lumière latticed his fingers as he scrutinized her. "Quite the contrary. When it comes to such matters, I never exaggerate."
At the change of gravity in his tone, Bernadette chose not to reply, but to Lumière, she appeared to maintain her reservations. Of those, he became adamant in altering for her benefit, and he was sure Marc would eagerly assist.
Another round of applause erupted as a tall, broad-boned woman took the stage. She looked well in her thirties, with a confidence and bearing that could not be faked had she not the experience to back them. Based on her reception, she was well-renowned.
The woman, it turned out, was Vittoria Tesi, a highly distinguished actress and contralto from Florence.
"A contralto?" Babette read aloud. "Is that her… voice type?"
"Oui, it is," Nicolas replied, seemingly back to his old self. "A contralto sings lower than a soprano."
Her interest piqued, Babette turned with wide, curious eyes to the intimidating signora now poised to begin.
Two recorders led the orchestra in a fluttering melody, and Tesi's expression softened as she let it wash over her. When she opened her mouth, such richness in tone, full of sincerity and sadness, captured everyone's ear. Her beautifully held notes and melismas were entrancing, especially when, during the repeat, they trembled so delicately through the hall. It brought tears to Babette's eyes that she somehow couldn't prevent. Upon wiping at them, she was astonished at how this Italian singer had enveloped Babette in her own world from the stage just by the music and her expression alone. Save for some possible cognates, she had not understood a word Tesi had sung. But apparently, she hadn't needed to.
Applause was happily given by all, and it was humbly received by la signora, who then, when the crowd quieted, said in perfect French the two arias she was performing were dedicated to a friend and colleague, whom she would always recognize as a talent without parallel, whether he was "in fashion or not."
Babette mimicked Signora Tesi's indignation. On whose authority could music be determined unfashionable? If this… "Vivaldi" had written other pieces of this caliber, why would a respectable person who called themselves a connoisseur refuse to listen to him? Out of spite?
The chorus of horns called her from her contemplation, and she immediately became eager to hear more of this contralto's voice.
Due to her avid focus, she remained unaware that Lumière had seen her emotional reactions to the aria rather easily. When she paid no heed to if others were watching, she could look so endearing! He couldn't help but smile. If only she could regularly be so open with her feelings. If only—
He made sure to avert his eyes in the case that any of them did notice, and followed their gazes to the stage. Surely, this music was energetic and engaging enough to drown out even the most hypothetical of scenarios, though his "ifs" still wanted to persist.
Luckily, he was swiftly appeased. Such a ferocity and anticipation filled la signora's countenance as she persisted through incredible leaps and scales with startling quickness, her scarlet bodice visibly rising and falling as she took lung-filling breaths between phrases. Her range was extraordinary; notes high and low were so strong and solid that she seemed to challenge the horns that echoed her. The four of them were held fixed at this marvelous display of musicianship until that final cadence from the orchestra rang throughout the hall.
To no one's surprise, Signora Tesi was made to return for bows four times before the crowd finally began to disperse.
As the sounds of chatter returned, Nicolas stood to stretch. "Well, mon ami," he said to Lumière with a mocking kind of nonchalance. "It would appear that in judgement and keen observation, I've finally managed to best you."
"It does my heart good to see you receive your victory so humbly," Lumière countered in a similar way.
Nicolas bore an innocence betraying his delight at being able to say, "I am only following your example."
Lumière narrowed his eyes teasingly at Nicolas' grin before they both attended to their ladies like proper escorts.
The viscount was silent for a moment until he politely prompted Babette with, "Have you any thoughts to share on the concert? You seem to have many."
Clutching the program still in her hand to her chest, Babette sighed. "I have not yet found the words to articulate what I think, but I can at least assure you they are all very much in its favor."
Nicolas smiled at her honesty. "I'm overjoyed to hear it."
She peeked rather demurely up at him as she reciprocated. "I hope… that you also enjoyed yourself. I know I gave little room for a change of mind when I suggested coming here."
Again, her willingness to see him content warmed his heart. "I could not imagine trying to persuade you out of it. Anyway, it was a wonderful idea. It certainly taught a certain someone not to underestimate you ladies again," he added with a sly glance behind him.
"I have thoroughly learned my lesson," Lumière admitted with an obliging incline of his head. "We have acquired the company of ladies with fine tastes, much finer than you or I can willingly admit to having ourselves."
He partly spoke while eyeing Bernadette on his arm, whose secret smile now seemed perpetual.
"M. Lumière, if you insist on bestowing such superfluous compliments on me—"
"Then what, ma chère mademoiselle?" Lumière challenged with delight. "Will you endow on me a similar reprimand as what you gave your poor mistress?"
Bernadette's mouth stood silently open before she was able to utter, "Perhaps… Perhaps I might!"
"Well, since you have not ascertained this for yourself, know that what may seem 'superfluous' comes from a very sincere place," he emphasized with the placement of a palm over his heart. "My exertions only stem from the purest feeling, which, as you must already understand, is not easily controlled or stifled."
"You speak too eloquently to not have some thought arrange your words."
"Ah, but my words flow freely, as naturally as water. Years of practice, chérie, is all that permits me to speak 'eloquently,' as you say," he explained while taking pleasure in the word. "So please, allow me to give praise when I feel it is deserved, and trust that it is founded in a most honest opinion. I would never wish to deceive."
She delicately pursed her lips before replying with regret, "Do not think I distrust what you say, but I would prefer to have your actions prove your words true."
To her relief, he took no offense but commended, "That is a fair and prudent decision, mademoiselle, and I will respect it."
Having been separated by the departing crowd, they did not reunite with Babette and Nicolas until they had exited the building onto the court lined with carriages. Mlle de Chantemerle was on the lookout for Marc perched on one of them, and did not turn when Nicolas acknowledged their approach.
When Bernadette took to Babette's side, Nicolas gave his friend a look that couldn't be more obvious with implication unless he had fluttered his brow. Lumière denied Nicolas' hopes with a shake of his head full of dismissal. The viscount managed an undeterred shrug of his shoulders before spotting their respectable carriage poking through the dense mass of fidgety horses and elaborate coaches fit for the greatest of egos.
Despite how surprisingly pleasant the day had eventually become, all were of little words upon their return to the hôtel, but only due to exhaustion. The girls asked that some food to nibble on be brought to their rooms before turning in, and Lumière himself snagged a crust of bread from the kitchen before following Nicolas to their rooms. In between bites, he began to undress, but in the process of changing out of his trousers, a few knocks interrupted the peace.
"Lumière? Do you have a moment?"
The maître d' sighed through the last bit of chewing before snatching up his recently disposed tunic. He should not have expected any less.
Marc's eagerness was visible at the first crack of his chamber door.
Leaning against its frame, Lumière inquired, "Can this not wait until tomorrow?"
The footman's place was checked. Abashed, his eyes dropped to the floor as he retreated a step. "My apologies. Clearly, my… curiosity is much too indulged. It must have been the long hours of your absences." He inclined his head and gave a hasty bow. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
At Marc's slumped shoulders, a pang of sympathy rang through Lumière's frame. He sighed as he knocked his forehead gently on the doorframe.
As the footman made it to the stairs, the maître d' stage-whispered, "Marc!"
He spun around with poorly concealed hope, and Lumière opened his door wider, gesturing for him to enter.
The footman skidded through his threshold, and before his questions could ensue, Lumière shut the door and said firmly, but not meanly, "We are keeping this brief."
Marc, though he pursed his lips, nodded in agreement. "Of course. I can see you are tired."
After taking a seat on the edge of the bed, his eyes became eager and his feet began tapping excitedly. "So… what is she like? Anything contrary in her character to what I have described?"
Lumière shook his head as a corner of his mouth lifted. "Not from a day's observations, at least. She… well, she impressed me several times today. She is rather intuitive, yet still naïve, which would be suspicious if her words and expression did not ring with such sincerity." He huffed a laugh at as he thought back. "She even has a wit of her own!"
Marc crossed his arms as a satisfied grin grew on his face. "Look how the cynic is now!"
Rolling his eyes, Lumière tried to hide his own smile. "Oh, my cross-examination is far from over. Simply being a charming creature will not do away my doubt."
Marc seemed to be waiting for more. "But… did you enjoy your time with her?"
Lumière quirked a puzzled eyebrow before replying genuinely, "Very much! What else would my calling her 'a charming creature' imply?"
Baffled, the footman spread his hands. "Then what else could there be? It is obvious she is not deceitful!"
The wiser servant corrected with a finger, "As far as we know."
Marc heaved a tired sigh. "What do you mean, Lumière?"
"I have not earned enough of her trust to delve into previous love affairs."
Marc furrowed his brow at the maître d's matter-of-fact tone. "Is that really necessary?"
"If you do not want a broken heart, mon ami, I would say it is the most vital piece of information we can obtain!"
"And knowing about the…" Marc hesitated as he grimaced uncomfortably at the thought. "… other messieurs she has been with will determine that?"
Though sympathetic to Marc's feelings, Lumière affirmed, "I know no better way; it has served me well too many times to count. Not to mention, the topic never fails to break suitable ground in a budding relationship." Stifling the painful truth of that statement to the back of his mind, he comradely patted the footman's shoulder. "Trust me, Marc. If you are as infatuated with this girl as you appear, that kind of information will be invaluable to you."
Lumière then opened his door, and Marc understood his cue. With a thoughtful line in his forehead, he stepped out of the room, but quickly faced the maître d' with quiet determination.
"I plan to speak to her myself tomorrow morning before you leave."
"As you should!" Lumière consented wholeheartedly. "I could see soon enough why one conversation had you so enamored."
Marc smiled, having taken up a petite, angelic visage in his mind's eye. He blinked it away temporarily to acknowledge, "Merci for it all, Lumière."
"Of course! Merci à toi for such a delightful endeavor!" he replied with a broad grin. "Bonne nuit."
Lumière began to close his door, but then called after him in a low voice, "When you think of it… I recommend asking her about what she thinks of keyboard players."
Blinking at the odd suggestion, Marc looked about to ask why, but found his inquiry answered upon seeing Lumière's mischievous smirk, who added, "You will enjoy her unique perspective!"
Not knowing how else to respond, Marc nodded his understanding, however vague, and continued to bed. Lumière chuckled to himself as he did the same.
If you clicked on the link to my playlist and listened to the music, then I hope you felt like you were experiencing the concert with the characters. As a music major, it was fun for me to delve into more obscure Baroque music I hadn't studied during my music history course!
I understand, though, if the music was not to your taste - in other words, "if it's Baroque, DO fix it!" - and that's fine! I tried to pick pieces that were more or less tolerable or even enjoyable to the ear, so let me know if I succeeded. I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on the music itself!
Though my summer is supposed to be busy, it's not meant to be so incredibly hectic that I don't look at this story for weeks at a time, like this past semester. I am making a movie and preparing for my senior recital, but hopefully I can publish updates more quickly... Fingers crossed!