Ok, before we begin, I suppose I owe an explanation as to why this chapter took me so long. Technical difficulties I might say...my pc was no longer functioning...at all. I had no way of uploading this(or even finish writing it) without a computer; but now I have a new one, so updates will be more frequent. For those who waited on to this story´s continuation: thank you for the patience
I hope you all enjoy this somewhat short chapter...
Chapter XII
Obs.: Unlike with other chapters, the translation featured below isn't the work of William Aggeler, but that of Roy Campbell.
Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés
Avec ses vêtements ondoyants et nacrés,
Même quand elle marche on croirait qu'elle danse,
Comme ces longs serpents que les jongleurs sacrés
Au bout de leurs bâtons agitent en cadence.
Comme le sable morne et l'azur des déserts,
Insensibles tous deux à l'humaine souffrance
Comme les longs réseaux de la houle des mers
Elle se développe avec indifférence.
Ses yeux polis sont faits de minéraux charmants,
Et dans cette nature étrange et symbolique
Où l'ange inviolé se mêle au sphinx antique,
Où tout n'est qu'or, acier, lumière et diamants,
Resplendit à jamais, comme un astre inutile,
La froide majesté de la femme stérile.
-- Charles Baudelaire
With Waving Opalescence in Her Gown
With waving opalescence in her gown,
Even when she walks along, you think she's dancing.
Like those long snakes which charmers, while entrancing,
Wave with their wands, in cadence, up and down.
Like the sad sands of deserts and their skies,
By human sufferings untouched and free,
Or like the surfy curtains of the sea,
She flaunts a cold indifference. Her eyes
Are made of charming minerals well-burnished.
Her nature, both by sphinx and angel furnished,
Is old, intact, symbolic, and bizarre:
She seems, made all of gems, steel, light, and gold,
In barrenness, majestic, hard, and cold,
To blaze forever, like a useless star.
-Do you understand how disastrous could this be? Me in the middle of those people?
Remy merely smiled as if he was before a frightened little girl. The mere idea of taking Ororo to a ball was completely alien to her, let alone the most attended party of the city that just happened to take place at the house of the wealthiest family of the state. The very thought was quite insane to himself, but for Ororo, who had never set a foot in any luxurious place other than his house and her own secluded childhood home. Not that she was incapable of it. Ororo was better educated than many daughters of "good families" he knew, and could be even more proper than Remy, with all his years of exhausting etiquette lessons and moved social life. But the truth was, it would never really matter if she spoke fluent French, played Chopin with perfection, or could easily understand the complexities of Aristotle or Shakespeare; to the eyes of all the people outside that house, she would always be "the Negro girl", the "freed slave".
-Are you afraid of them? - Remy asked, knowing the answer already. He could understand her concern, her fear. Yes, fear. Ororo was a brave woman; maybe too brave for her own good, but even the most courageous creature can crumble under the prospect of public humiliation.
-Is not that…not just that…-She told him with pleading eyes- I don't want to be in a place where everyone thinks of me as …some sort of animal…a thing to be sold or bought…
He let out a pained sigh; she had a pretty strong point.
-I see…
-What point are you trying to prove anyway?
-I'm not trying to prove a damn thing, chère…
-So?
-I just want them to see with their own eyes the kind of creature you are. Even if they don't admit out loud, and believe me they won't, they will know you're better than them. I want them to see for themselves that I'm not going to let anybody say whatever behind your back, like you're some worthless woman out of the street … Because you're not that at all…
-Remy…I know that and you know that…there's no need to prove it to anyone else.
- I want to. Let me.
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Crazy… Just insane…she kept repeating to herself…Crazy him for putting her up to this...crazy of her to accept. Did Remy have that much power over her? Enough to make her say yes to any bizarre request as long as it came accompanied by one of his gallant smiles and some sugar-coated words?
They had battled over it for days. Ororo kept saying no, but he wouldn't let go, wouldn't take no for an answer. She had to be honest with herself, the idea of going to a ball led by Remy´s hands was tantalizing. Facing the world without having to lower her eyes or be told to "remember her place"… it would be pure satisfaction. Ororo wasn't vain, neither did she fantasize about luxury and high society, but she was a proud woman, proud to a fault really. The idea of a well-deserved "payback" was attractive to her; she would be a hypocrite to deny it.
Still…she was afraid. She would have given anything to stay in her little cocoon, her conservatory, her nights at the piano with Remy, the quiet reading in the library. Simple pure things, unlike the balls filled with slave-owners and self-indulgent belles, people that would look at her with disgust in their eyes, that aura of decadence she wasn't used to, and, hopefully, would never be …
The door opened slowly and she heard Mattie´s soft voice.
-Etienne is waiting.
Remy had told her Etienne would pick her up so she could get ready at his house. As much as she tried to convince him she didn't need it, there was no argument. A few days before, Remy had most of her dresses, the ones Mattie and her had not cut apart to make new ones, brought back to his house. That included the ball gowns she had decided to get rid of. Initially Remy had told her he had those made in case he gave a party at his house, so she could be properly dressed to serve. Now there was an occasion to wear them, so he insisted on having them back to be properly washed and ironed. She just went along with it, unable to get the stubborn man to do things her way.
-I'm coming.
-Are you sure you want to do this?-Mattie crossed her arms over her chest, looking at her with motherly concern.
-I'm sure I don't want to…-Ororo smiled- But there was no use arguing.
-Remy has a way of making people do what he wants…Always had…
-I know…
Mattie kissed her forehead and let the young woman walk away, watching as she disappeared inside the carriage.
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-This way…
-Etienne...I know the house, remember? - Ororo gently chided the young man as they walked in.
-I do remember that-he smiled- but the master had a bedroom prepared for you to change.
She rolled her eyes and followed. Much to her surprise Etienne didn't lead her to her old bedroom, but instead took her to the third floor…There was a guest room there, joint with Remy´s through a discreet passage that was always locked. Back in his parents' days, whenever the Lebeaus came to town, Jean Luc Lebeau would stay at the room that now belonged to Remy and his wife would use this contiguous room.
Both were equal in size and arquiteture, but very different in décor and style… Even though she had been there just once and with a special permission, Ororo remembered Remy´s room was dark and sumptuous, loaded with deep blues and reds; heavy Louis XIV styled furniture and books. This other room, however, was light, filled with soft blues, magnolias and pale golds, in a very intimate Louis XVI style with feminine and simple lines, ethereal paintings and doll like furniture. As they walked in, Etienne handled her a pair of keys: one for the main door and the other one for the door that led into the connective passage in between rooms, then left.
Laid atop of the canopy bed, Ororo recognized one of the gowns Remy had "confiscated" back: a white satin gown with a slight powder blue sheen to it. She remembered it was simple with no adorns, as it suited a governess. But now it looked "slightly" different. The cleavage had been changed from its originally modest closed style with lace up to the neck, so now it left the shoulders bare. The long sleeves were cut shorter, to expose the arms, and along the rim tiny little crystals had been placed in a such a way as to give the illusion of small dew drops glowing under the light. Ororo smirked…Remy probably had that obnoxious dress maker sew each tiny crystal to the sleek satin until her fingers were a bloody ruin…It was just like him to do so… Besides the gown there was a pair of white-lace, fingerless gloves, closed at the wrists by tiny ivory buttons. On the floor, a pair of doll-like, satin-covered, high-heeled shoes was neatly set besides the bed.
Shaking her head, she proceeded to get ready. After this there was no way she could find a way to convince him to let her out of her promise…She would be going to the ball after all…
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Looking at her own reflection at the mirror, her nervousness builds up. There it was…her reflection looking back from the mirror…The dress sparkled like mother-of-pearl under the candlelight, the tiny crystals twinkling like fallen stars. It fit her perfectly, as if it had been sewn on her body, not a stitch was out of place, the fabric wasn´t too tight or too loose anywere. Against her dark complexion the pale white satin with a barely noticeable gelid blue hue came alive, giving her expression a subtle crystal-like glow.
But something wasn't right…
Ororo sat by the vanity table and ran her fingers through the loose locks of her white hair that flowed down her shoulders, wondering what she should do about it. She couldn't very well put on a turban…but the idea of going out in public with her hair exposed was too much…People already called her "mambo" without ever seeing it… She puffed, irritated, trying to figure out what to do…
Suddenly soft knocks called her attention. They didn't come from the main door, but rather from the door that connected the room with Remy´s.
-Yes?
-Can I come in?…- Remy´s voice answered from the other side. She sighed again.
-Sure…
Ororo didn't even turn to Remy as he walk in. She was too embarrassed as it was. Just when she heard the door being shut and his steps approaching she dared look up.
He was ready to leave. All dressed in black, a dark red vest and black double-breasted tailcoat covered an immaculate white linen shirt, complemented by a black satin cravat. His black full-length trousers ended seamlessly in shiny leather boots.His black cloak was neatly folded over his forearm. Leaving the cloak on a nearby armchair, he walked over and stood behind her, looking into her eyes through the mirror.
-I'm afraid it will be a problem if you show up like this…-He said quietly.
She gasped:
-What…why?
-Somebody will certainly try to snatch you away from me…-He chuckled huskily- So you better not leave my side if you want to be safe.
Ororo smiled in spite of herself.
-I'm late…-She murmured, not wanting to tell him about the hair dilemma.
-That's perfectly fine…In fact I'm glad you didn't do your hair yet. -He told her, gathering the thick locks of snowy hair between his hands and uncovering her shoulders, purposely letting his fingers linger over the sensitive skin of the back of her neck.
-And why is that? -She closed her eyes and frowned, suddenly made uneasy by the intimate contact.
Remy removed his hands and looked for something in the inside pocket of his coat. Once he found it, he set it on the vanity table. It was a small dark blue velvet box.
-I thought of bringing someone over to do your hair, but I imagined you'd prefer to do it yourself. Anyway, I suppose these will look perfect.
Ororo picked up the box and popped it open, revealing two pairs of star-shaped hairpins covered in tiny diamonds glowing on the baby blue satin that covered the box inside. Before she could recover from the shock and say anything, he continued:
-I hope you like it. That jewelery box was the only clue I had as to what your taste in jewelry is… I guess these will fit quite right in the collection your father gave you … Now, I'll leave you so you can get ready…Take your time; I'll be downstairs.
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It took her a few more minutes to come down, though it had felt like hours to Remy...One thing was imagining her in that dress, another was seeing her in it for brief moment, quite another to see the whole attire, the entire . Jewels and dress would turn her into a queen, he was sure of it; and, like an artist who anticipates the final result of his yet-to-finish- masterpiece, he lost himself in reverie.When he finally heard the rustle of her satin skirts, Remy turned to the stairs, barely managing to link his imagination to the, clearly superior, reality.
If anything, Ororo had managed to turn that piece of garment into something of fable; it was a gorgeous dress, on a hanger...on her; a fairy-tale coming alive. Around her neck a silver necklace, thin as a spider net, adorned with a solitary drop-shaped blue sapphire, sparkled like a snowflake under the moonlight. Her hair was pulled up in the most simple manner; no curls or frills, just greek-like hair-do put together by the hairpins with a few wisps of milky white hair snaking down her long neck. Ororo sparkled, pristine as fresh snow, soft like a nocturnal breeze...
There was no use for words...Remy only held out his hand and led her to the front door, feeling like taking her anywhere she might want to go, give her anything she might want...doing whatever necessary to make sure that hand never let go of his...