JMJ

EIGHT

Two nights had passed since the abrupt halt on the Easter festivities, and this the third night Lumiere had accomplished plans of his own. Nothing too big. Nothing too fancy. Just the kitchen cleared away of anything that might hinder the dancers, and the few musicians turned instruments as well as Alphonse, the coat rack, playing with passion on his violin. Lumiere had them play by request Yann Tiersen's "La Veillée", an energetic but haunting melody, again out of time, of which seemed to fit the evening of this secret dance well.

Lumiere himself danced with Babette alongside a few other partners, slow, purposeful and although he smiled at his partner he, like everyone at this dance, held still a touch of melancholy. The dance was not as joyful as Lumiere had originally planned, but it had given some people something to look forward to and something to keep one's mind occupied.

Babette gazed in return, her eyes never leaving her partner's eyes unless a certain turn or spin of the dance forced her vision away.

"Tell me," said Babette softly so that only her partner could hear over the music. "Do you think the curse can ever be lifted? Be entirely honest with me."

"I do, ma cherie," said Lumiere without the slightest pause to consider the question. "Never once have I thought otherwise."

"I'll admit," said Babette, "that I am beginning to lose hope."

"No, no, don't do that," cooed Lumiere. "Don't think about that now. Listen to the music. Let it take you away."

"Another time, another place?" said Babette.

"To Paris, that city of light and love," said Lumiere.

"Oui," sighed Babette.

"Smile for me," Lumiere urged.

After another twirl, Babette tried as best she could to give him his desire, but it was a weak smile.

"Never lose hope," said Lumiere.

"I'll try not to," she said.

The music echoed on out of the warm glow of the kitchen into the dimly lit dining room and out into the blackened halls. Here the music trailed off into audible mist and reached into the stillness of the evening where is disappeared. Only the moaning and creaking of the castle could be heard beyond, and the sound of the wind whipping against the window panes as a soft storm rumbling through.

#

"Ah, Mademoiselle Méline," said a handsome young man stepping out onto the balcony.

The tall shrubbery just beneath the balcony quivered as though quite alarmed to see him, or amazed by his dashing smile, perhaps. But Méline who was herself also quite lovely turned just at the right moment toward the voice so that she did not notice the disturbance of foliage.

"Monsieur Raoul!" exclaimed Méline. She was quite surprised to see him as he was Count Vespasien's son.

"What is a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?" asked Raoul.

"Oh, I haven't been out here long, monsieur," said Méline, flattered by his compliments, and she smiled with a lacy fan to hide it. "I'm only waiting for my partner, and since the storm's ended it's become such a beautiful night, monsieur, that I didn't mind too much."

A night truly could not be any more perfect. The sky was black, the stars shone like brilliant fairy dust sprayed over a dark canvas. The air was cool but winter's chill remained no more, and the air felt fresh, though only the faintest breeze wafted.

"What a silly girl," one shrub seemed to say to another nonetheless, but neither Méline nor Raoul heard them so that the other shrubs shushed in vain.

"The less brain the girl has the better," said another shrub much softer than the first.

"And who would leave such a beautiful partner out here when he could be having the last dance of the evening outside on this beautiful night with her?" asked Raoul.

"Monsieur?" said Méline.

"I don't like him either," said the first shrub again.

"Silence!" hissed another.

"You just envy them because you cannot be them," said another still.

"Monsieur Remuer couldn't even when he could, if you know what I mean," muttered a fourth.

"Would you care if I stole you away for it?" asked Raoul.

"Oh, I don't know," said Méline, in a way in which she sounded quite tempted.

"Jerks, besides," muttered the first, Monsieur Remuer.

The others again shushed him with great annoyance.

"Think less negatively about people," one of the other shrubs grumbled, but this time he was shushed too.

"I think I may have to pass, monsieur," said Méline. "I beg your understanding."

"No, no, I understand completely, mademoiselle," said Raoul with a humbled nod of his head. "I take you as a strong character."

"No, I just would not want my partner to be upset at my not telling him first. I'd be more than willing to accept your offer otherwise."

Raoul laughed, and it was a pleasant enough laugh to hear, and he turned to leave. "I hope he returns soon, mademoiselle."

"Merci, monsieur Raoul," said Méline.

"Good," whispered the shrubs. "He's leaving." "Get ready." "I am getting ready." "The bag, the bag." "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" "Of course it is." "You want to stay like this forever?" "Hurry, hurry!" "Before she moves." "He's nearly inside." "Get ready."

From out of the tallest tree reaching up over the balcony, an old sack emerged slow but steady as a bug catcher might hold a butterfly net over his prey. And also quite like one attempted to catch some insect quite faster than a butterfly with such a net, just as the holder thought he had her, the swipe of the sack caught only air as the girl suddenly stepped forward.

"But," said Méline with a slight tease, "Perhaps you could let there be one last dance after this one, and I could dance with both."

Again neither noticed the swaying branches off the balcony and the gasps from behind the foliage as its inhabitants tried desperately to keep balance in the boughs.

Now it was Raoul who was about to protest, but just as he opened his mouth he heard a crash below the balcony.

"What was that?" he asked.

Méline followed his direction. "I don't know."

Both looked over the edge of the balcony to see what had happened, but there was nothing there aside from what looked like a pile of old house furnishings thrown against the tree and the rest of the shrubbery.

Méline and Raoul exchanged glances and looked down again as the pile of rubbish.

"Perhaps someone just threw it out the window from the first storey," said Méline.

"I don't know who would," said Raoul.

"One of the servants?" asked Méline. "Or maybe it's some sort of joke, monsieur."

"Well, whatever it is, I plan to find out," said Raoul with a nod, and bidding farewell to the young lady for the time being he left the balcony; though Méline did not long afterward leave as well just as her partner arrived.

Moaning below the apparent rubbish below lifted themselves up and looked with longing back up at the balcony.

"It's useless," said one, "We've been at this for hours, and the last dance is just starting now."

"But they will be having the last one or two dances outside," said someone else.

"Hush," said another.

"Oh, what does it matter? No one's out on the balcony anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Then what are we to do?"

"We could go back up."

"What for? The balcony was a stupid idea. Just imagine if we had caught the girl. She might have broken every bone in her delicate body!"

"Monsieur la Chaise is waiting."

"Yes, yes, I know."

"So we go back empty-handed?"

"Yes, it was a stupid plan, anyway. Why would the Master and the some kidnapped girl ever get together? This was the single worst thing I've ever done in my life."

Suddenly one of them gasped. "Attende!"

"What is your problem, Olivier?"

"Listen. Someone's coming," hissed Olivier à Portée, the ladder who had helped everyone climb into the shrubs and tree.

Everyone ducked back into the greenery as best they could, and looked where the ladder pointed with a leg.

"I don't believe it," said one.

"C'est Mademoiselle Monique St. Gervais."

#

Slowly did the man lead Monique across the courtyard. The frills of Monique's long pink plume of a dress, brushed against the damp shrubbery from which droplets leapt like lighthearted pixies as she followed her partner's silent gaze up into the dust of stars. The moon, a golden lantern, seemed to smile upon them and encourage them and both closed their eyes and lowered them to each other a moment.

Monique smiled shyly, and turned again to the night gardens as a gentle breeze kissed her face.

"So, monsieur," said Monique with care. "Are you going to tell me why you brought me our here now?"

The man smiled now too, and though for a moment he looked a little embarrassed, he soon straightened himself and said, "Can't I just enjoy a little fresh air and enjoy the silence in between dances?"

Monique's smile grew as she continued gazing at the well-groomed roses growing up out of the rose bushes not far beyond. She said nothing and waited for the other to take his time in getting around to the real reason he wanted to be alone with her.

"I've been speaking with your father," said her partner then.

"Yes," said Monique candidly. "I know you have."

"And he has, mademoiselle, come to his conclusion."

Monique could not keep in that return of her smile as she turned with eyes as mysterious as the winking stars, and just as lovely to behold.

"Count Vespasien's house, Monsieur?" said Monique. "That is a little unorthodox. I hope you did not press my father too hard before this. He could not even come for his health, this time."

"No, I promise, I did not press hard," said her partner.

"Alright then," said Monique.

"Would you accept, mademoiselle?"

"Marc …" said Monique with a shake of her head and leaning in close to him; her partner did likewise.

"One thousand — one million times do I accept," she whispered, and as the pair closed their eyes ready for their kiss no one could think of a more perfect ending in all the world.

Svoop!

Marc opened his eyes, and leapt back in alarm.

"Mademoiselle?" He had heard just the smallest yelp, but it had been silenced now. As he looked around he found himself entirely alone. "Monique!" he cried again, and leaping for the wall, he looked over the top just in time to see a wriggling sack pulled into a one-man carriage and start away.

He was so in shock by this scene that he did not have time to notice that the carriage was not being pulled by an animal. He leapt the rest of the way over the wall, and began to hurry after it, but as he ran through a thick cluster of trees, he lost it. No sight of it remained anywhere.

"Monique!"