Chapter 60: Centenary of Philadelphia 1876, 4: French wine, Brazilian coffee, last lap at the exhibition
Note: Unbelievable! It took me over nine months to work on the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition! My original idea was for Scarlett and Duncan to go on a romantic trip to Philadelphia, as I'd heard about the exhibition while researching 4 July 1876. All I needed was a bit of information to set the scene. The chapter would be short. But I found an 800-page document and over 1,600 photographs taken at the stands! I had to swallow the whole stalk of literature and build my plot on I was caught up in the magic of the Centennial, as were the ten million (!) visitors who came to Fairmount Park between May and November 1876. I hope this account of the Centennial has not bored you too much. It was fascinating to "witness" the birth of so many inventions that propelled America and Europe into the Industrial Age. It was fun to get visitors to react to the new products (ketchup, hamburgers, etc.) that were first introduced on that occasion and which continue to shape our lives. And then I discovered, among the exhibiting countries, the Emperor Dom Pedro and Brazil... I might help you if I say that, therefore it was fun planting clues because the fates of Scarlett, Rhett, Duncan and Melina have taken a turn... that I had not foreseen before writing chapter 57! The next chapter will be short and very, very different. It could be full of passion! (If I succeed to write it!)
ooooOOoooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 9 a.m., Agricultural Hall, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pa.
The Surray entered the wide alley leading to the Agricultural Hall.
Observing the long building, topped by several bell towers topped by a cross, Scarlett teased her neighbour beside her: "Would you have the idea of taking us to church to confess our sins?"
He used the same teasing tone: "What would you have to confess, if not the sin of gluttony for those excellent chocolates we tasted yesterday? Your soul is as white as a dove's. As for mine..." - His smile widened over white teeth, the enamel glistening in the sunlight - "I am afraid a visit to the confessional won't be enough to absolve me..."
"Oh!" - She put her gloved hand over her mouth to feign shock and hide her mocking mimic - "Would the perfect Duncan hide a dead body in La Mode Duncan dressing room?"
"Ah! Ah!" Her remark provoked such impulsive laughter in him that Cathleen turned and looked at him curiously. "Which hypothesis do you want me to answer? The one about the perfect man or the one about the corpse?"
They had no time to continue their little game, for the coachmen of the two Surreys simultaneously stopped at the entrance to the Hall of Agriculture.
"My first impression was right. It really is a cathedral!"
As they made their way down the main aisle, the eight visitors were tempted for a moment to ignore the din of crates and trolleys on wheels, masked by the deafening tide of human voices assaulting their ears. Nor did they pay any attention to the hundreds of shop windows and stalls, attractive though they were.
No, their eyes were riveted to the ceiling - or rather the vault. Shaped like an ogive and lined with wooden trellises, it seemed to go on forever. These arches lit by glass windows on each side and in the center, flowed all the way to the back of the building, lending a mystical atmosphere to the Gothic architecture.
"This gallery has all the makings of a gigantic nave."
"You are right. And from what I have read, there are three transepts running through it, also built on the same model. The designers of the Agricultural Hall have pulled off a masterstroke: building a temple to the glory, not of a god, but of gourmet food, because ladies, gastronomy will be our program for the morning."
The three women held back their applause. When they had read the guidebook, the description of the hall was not at all appealing, with its didactic stands on growing vegetables, insects harmful to agriculture and agricultural machinery. The extensive stock-yards with their exhibition of cattle, horses and sheep from all over the world, would not have been out of place for the woman who had run Tara's plantation, but they were boring.
That's why Duncan's announcement was unanimously welcomed, especially as their taste buds were tantalized by the most tempting smells.
As with the Main Hall and the Machinery Hall, American exhibitors were given priority in the Main Bay. The visitors from Atlanta and Charleston agreed not to waste their time in front of the long rustic tables laden with varieties of potatoes or the mountains of apples glorifying the pomological activities of Michigan and other states, even if their main purpose was to present the products processed into preserves by these local producers.
Ella was the first to stop in front of what looked like a playful set of cubes, a wall of enameled boxes as appetizing as the crackers they contained. A dozen people were already queuing to get their hands on Walter Wilson's crackers from Philadelphia.
"To continue the analogy with a place of worship, let's consider that this is your first stop on the Way of the Cross. But there will probably be ten times as many stages as the ritual fourteen, and we will succumb to the vice of gluttony long before then. Which seems to please you, ladies.
Scarlett and Cathleen stopped listening to him. They cornered one of the stallholders and opened their reticule to spend their first cents of the morning.
As they walked past, a salesman offered them hot cupcakes. "Ladies, Rumford Chemical Works of Providence, Rhode Island, is proud to offer you this revolutionary product, baking powder for cakes! Ella and Wade were not the only ones to feast on the samples on offer, although Scarlett and Cathleen took only one bite, in keeping with the custom of not stuffing their faces in public.
After Scarlett and Cathleen had each purchased a tin of the revolutionary powder and had moved far enough away from the stall, the Mistress of Magnolias Mansion confessed: "I am going to ask my cook to try it, but I am sure she will find it a poor quality and an utterly useless substitute for traditional cooking." Scarlett had no doubt that Dilcey would have the same reaction.
Other products created for the Centennial were reviewed but not approved. "What a useless invention to replace fresh milk from our cows with this Borden condensed milk!
However, both were won over by a tomato-based culinary preparation. Visitors to the international exhibition were the first to discover Heintz's new product. Scarlett read the label: "Tomato Ketchup... I wonder if chefs will adopt it! After tasting it on a slice of bread, the two women agreed that it would be an original way to dress a roast.
Duncan approached a tree whose gnarled branches were woven into the framework of the stand. Around it was a wooden counter inviting visitors to sample Mammoth wine from Santa Barbara, California. Unlike the men sitting with glasses in hand, he simply stroked the trunk of the vine. Following the sinuosity and cracks in the bark. Surprised that the vine was so familiar to him.
Lifting her head to check again if Ella was near Prissy, Scarlett caught Duncan exploring a large branch on the Californian wine stand. Intrigued, she watched the movement of his hand. Good heavens! He is stroking this piece of wood like ... Just like he happens to caress me surreptitiously... Which is no compliment to me. How strange!
But she and Duncan were jolted out of their introspection by Wade's excited voice.
"Why this gathering around a man in a Union uniform? Please, come and see! It is like an eagle perched on a log!" Wade manages to get everyone behind him.
Indeed, a very much alive bird of prey stood stoically on a shield, its little beady eyes flying over the ever-changing crowd of admirers.
Duncan forgot his blasé attitude and marveled, as did Wade, the children and the men present. "It's Old Abe!"
Scarlett wondered what was wrong with him. It was only an eagle. And not a young one. She encouraged Cathleen and Melina to share a bench, and Barnabee and Prissy were in charge of getting drinks from the Tuft soda fountain.
"Take a rest, Melina. You look exhausted." Inwardly, Scarlett thought Duncan's sister looked terrible, with her swollen eyelids and red eyes. Has she been crying? Hm... Could it be something to do with Liam Roberts saying goodbye to us when he left last night?
Scarlett was very amused by this beginning of a love affair, an old reflex from her younger days when she and Cathleen Calvert loved to gossip about their surroundings. Like that famous day at the barbecue at Twelve Oaks when her friend had told her of the scandal surrounding the sultry character of Rhett Butler - this Rhett who had undressed her with his eyes as they walked up the stairs... No! She did not want to think about Rhett again!
Melina and her concealment of romantic feelings allowed Scarlett to forget about Twelve Oaks, the picnic and brought the former belle of Clayton's County back down to earth, and in this case to the Agriculture Hall.
"Thank you for your concern, Scarlett. It is nothing, really. I had a bad dream that woke me up with a start and I had trouble getting back to sleep afterwards." Her lips curved into a small smile as Cathleen stroked her cheek maternally.
Wade returned excitedly, followed by Ella and Duncan. "Mother! This eagle is a war hero! He fought thirty-six battles with the Chippewa Eagles. Now he honored like a veteran in Washington. And he was taken from a nest by an Indian and then..."
"Lord! Wade! Take it easy! What will Mrs. Vayton think of you?"
The latter soothed him with a kind word.
Duncan was laughing heartily. "Frankly, Scarlett, I am even more excited than your son to meet this 'Old Abe' face to face. I should not admit it because he was one of the enemy troops. The falconer carried it on a shield at the front of the troops. It was a formidable weapon of war, because when the fighting started, he was letting out such shrill cries that we, his opponents, feared him more than the Yankees! Ha! Ha!"
After recovering from their emotions and this historic meeting, the group had a quick look at the stands of the foreign countries, and had to make a drastic choice in order not to spend the whole day in this hall. England won, especially because of the Crosse & Blackwell display with its selection of malt vinegars and the new Chow-Chow mustard and pickles condiment. Next door, the display by Lea Perrins, creators of the original Worcestershire sauce, was a hit and had to be replenished regularly.
"Cork Distelleries!" Scarlett's heart skipped a beat as 'Old Irish Whisky' was displayed around the small stand, which had been designed to resemble an Irish pub. The floor was lined with half barrels and wooden crates, while the characteristically shaped bottles lined the shelves behind small-paned windows. For a quarter of a second - oh, just a quarter of a second, she reassured herself -, she was tempted to buy a bottle. Just to treat Harry Bennett with a glass for instance... But no... It is enough to lie to myself... It is for him. Always him. Nevertheless, he will never uncork any bottle anymore. Fortunately!" she concluded with relief. Relieved to be away from him.
Relief... What is he doing now? Scarlett realized that for the first time she was able to pinpoint his exact location. A big change from all those years when he had been away from Atlanta, while she had been completely unsure of his whereabouts.
He is on the boat, in the middle of the Atlantic, drinking - I cannot be far wrong - and probably in charming company. For the umpteenth time, she swore silently: Get out of my brain, Rhett Butler!
ooooOOoooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 10am, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, on the Atlantic Ocean
"I never imagined that this transatlantic crossing would be so interesting! It's all thanks to you, Rhett! The stories you tell me, your adventures, your exploits and the reckless risks you've taken in your life make me dream. Until I left for Brazil, I had only known the life of a penniless artist in Paris. A very pleasant one, indeed."
Sitting with Rhett on the promenade deck, Archibald closed his eyes to better remember those days: "With my friends painters - whom you met at Nadar's - we spent our nights remaking the world in our favourite tavern. We didn't have a penny to our name, and art was our only luxury. But the owner of the tavern was kind to us, and would occasionally accept a painting from one of us in exchange for a Pharaonic debts' slab of red wine and feasts." He lowered his voice so as not to be overheard by the other passengers: "You're used to Parisian places of pleasure - you told me so. It won't surprise you to learn that our artistic wanderings were often clouded, not only by fumes of alcohol and wisps of tobacco, but also by a few spoonfuls of absinthe and puffs of opium. Ah, Paris! If I add that the pretty girls also gave us credit in exchange for their hospitable thighs, you will understand why some of us painted less assiduously than we should have!"
Hilariously, he concludes his summary of his life as an artist with a laugh, immediately followed by Rhett's.
"With the exception of the tradition of the slate, as you call it in France, and the 'credit' offered by those kind girls, which of course I refused, I have tasted and abused all the pleasures you experienced yourself in Paris. Especially the inviting thighs of young damsels from Europe and America - who were generously rewarded for their services."
This mischievous conversation, typical of men who brag about their amorous exploits in small groups, only served to strengthen their bond.
As they were chatting, Rhett's hunter's eye noticed a young woman a few yards away pretending not to look in their direction.
"My dear Archibald, I am ready to bet you a bottle of whisky that the pretty girl here would also be welcoming if you would only smile at her."
The young Frenchman's attention was only briefly drawn to his admirer: "It's true she's pretty. I think it's your moustaches that tickle her fancy."
Rhett pouted: "To be honest with you, Archibald, I am no longer interested in that sort of... diversion. I have played it too much in the past until I lost my appetite. And... only one person has the power to torment my thoughts and sleepless nights.
Archibald raised his eyebrows, stunned at the confidence of a man who had just been talking shamelessly about his life of debauchery: "You amaze me! So you fell in love at first sight, stricken by a thunderbolt! We both know that love lasts only until the lady opens her thighs for us". He concluded philosophically! "C'est la vie!"
Wrinkles creased the forehead of the former womanizer: "A thunderbolt? It is rather ironic, because it reminds me of a certain Thunder of Georgia... Yes, it can be described that way, but it happened to me fifteen years ago... "
Archibald could hardly believe his ears: "Really? Who is this siren who has had the power to bewitch you for so long?"
Rhett replied laconically, "She was my wife, Mrs. Scarlett Butler."
"Ah!" Archibald realized he would learn no more. "To confide in you, I too was struck by lightning when I arrived in Brazil. However, I doubt if I will be as persistent in my efforts to conquer her as you are! You should see her! She's stunningly beautiful! She looks like a queen. I dream of the moment when I can untie her bun and unleash the cascade of her jet black hair until it brushes against the hollow of her loins... "
He had not noticed that they were no longer alone. Nikolaas' icy voice cut him off: "Behave yourself, Mr. Le Rouge, in the presence of Percevejo!"
Archibald blushed inexplicably as he realized that the young man had also just arrived and had probably heard the end of his romantic tirade.
Rhett had confirmation of what he had sensed the day before, the existence of a latent animosity on the part of the Dutchman towards the Frenchman. Could it be because of this Brazilian beauty?
The atmosphere in the bedroom of the three passengers must have been stifling...
ooooOOoooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 10 a.m., Agricultural Hall, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pa.
"Ah, here we are in my friend's new country!
The Brazilian pavilion was easily recognizable as a miniaturized version of the one in the main building, with its Moorish-style cutouts in garish green, yellow, red and blue. But instead of a 'castle' rising up to the glass roof, there was only a modest balustrade set against what looked like a forest. Or, more realistically, but equally impressive in this exhibition hall, tree trunks that had been uprooted from their rich soil to end up in Fairmount Park, with colorful pennants from the Brazilian provinces hanging from them.
Visitors were eager to squeeze between them and the palm liana ropes to gain access to the unknown treasures.
In the main building, they had seen a glimpse of the beauty of Brazilian nature, with its subsoil of precious metals, and skies housed by colonies of birds of multicolored feathers. Through the magic of the Agricultural Hall, the eight passengers of the Vayton's varnish were transported to the heart of the Amazon rainforest and the Pampas.
"I now understand why Liam and many other Confederate families chose to settle in this empire. All the riches of the former colony of Portugal are a temptation to emigrate to these lands. We have before us, concentrated in this small space, the most sought-after natural resources in the world, and those which, in addition to diamonds and gold, make the fortunes of the new billionaires: exotic woods, coffee, sugar, cotton, alcohol and tobacco".
"Why did they hang so many skins from these poor animals?" Ella was getting really tired of being confronted with the corpses of poor animals stripped of their skins since yesterday.
"It is like being in Ali Baba's cave!" Wade was right. The layout was the opposite of the Moorish palace in the Main building full of height, space and light. Although the area reserved for Brazil was large, there were so many items on display that they were jumbled together that there was no pretense of rational organization.
"What intoxicating scents!" While Melissa's interest in the morning's visit had been lukewarm, bordering on boredom, her enthusiasm miraculously was returning: "It is a symphony of sweet, pungent and coppery perfumes. And the smell of these piles of wood, cut like gold ingots, makes me feel, when I close my eyes, in the middle of a forest!"
And closer to Liam Roberts..., her future sister-in-law thought perfidiously.
The former owner of the two sawmills was examining hundreds of samples of wood, cut into logs or planks and sometimes varnished to bring out the beauty of the grain.
Duncan was amused to see her run the pad of her finger over the texture of the indigenous woods as she leafed through the information sheets. "I applaud your eagerness to study the forest resources of Brazil, dear Scarlett!"
As if taking stock of her stock in the sawmill, she commented: "This one is used for its oil ; this one for its dye. Did you know that this tree gave its name to Brazil?"
Duncan raised his eyebrows in surprise. This delighted Scarlett, who was proud to surprise such an educated man. "Early Portuguese traders found that this ground and dried wood produced an orange-red dye in the color of embers, called 'brasa', if I remember correctly."
With surprising greed she grabbed a block of the iridescent wood. "I was once tempted to import it for the rich Scalawags and Yankees who started to settle in Atlanta after the war. I would have sold them every yard at full price. Oh, I am sure I could have made a lot of money! So I started studying the native woods of South America. But Ashley thought the project was adventurous and that it was unethical to be unfaithful to our suppliers in the South. So, for once, I gave in to his conviction."
Scarlett sighed and added more quietly, as if the thought had escaped her, "Ashley and his bloody ethics..."
Duncan turned away slightly, not wanting her to notice how pleased he was to hear her rail against his rival... Not the most dangerous rival at the moment, but the oldest...
"Why is this tree depicted with its bark clearly stripped and ridged?"
Melina is definitely interested in everything Brazilian, even a tree trunk! Scarlett wondered if Melina's mother has noticed the sudden and blatant passion for Brazil from Alexander Dean's fiancée.
"These cuts are used to make, among other things, garters for you ladies to hold up your pretty silk stockings." Satisfied with the effect, he let his blue eyes linger a little too long on Scarlett's hips. She pretended not to notice, but appreciated the reference to women's underwear. Someone else had once enjoyed mentioning what Parisian women wore under their skirts. ...
Pitying his sister, he explained: "The white liquid extracted from this tree has become as valuable as diamonds. Especially since Charles Goodyear improved its stability. Rubber is one of the biggest natural resources exported. This country is definitely an Eden for getting rich. Liam, with his unstoppable instincts, has made the right choice!"
As the three women set about inspecting the hundreds of glass vials filled with seeds and unfamiliar spices, and sugar crystals' jars, Duncan approached the octagonal display cases containing the bottles of strong alcohol so prized by the Brazilians.
He noticed, however, that a small shelf was reserved for red wine. Curious, he scanned the label. The calligraphy was elegant: "Fazenda de vinhos da Torre, estado de São Paulo". Duncan translated this, with his rudimentary knowledge of Portuguese, as "Wine-producing Estate Torre, Province of Sao Paulo". The elegant graphics had nothing to envy from the great French vineyards.
His eyes widened. The fazenda, which looked more like a castle than a large farm, was depicted in a few very precise curves, giving the drawing a marked originality. Just like the drawings in the Brazilian pavilion in the main building...
He shook his head: I am really starting to obsess over these pathetic sketches. It is getting ridiculous!
Nevertheless, he went to the stand manager to buy a crate of these bottles and asked him to deliver them to the station that evening. All the while, he was convinced that this South American wine would disappoint his palate, which was used to the best French ones.
"Please, come and see! There is a white cobweb hut!" Excited by her find, Ella led them to the other side of the perimeter of the reconstructed "forest".
"How original this structure is!" Cathleen approached the small stand with curiosity.
Melina exclaimed, beaming: "A cotton palace! The one your friend was talking about!"
The aim was probably to draw inspiration from Gothic architecture, with its three arches on all four sides. In reality, it looked as if it had come straight out of an indigenous village, with its precarious square structure covered by a pointed roof of coarse cotton fiber, and its fragile columns also wrapped in the natural textile fibers supporting the arches. A gust of wind and the house could have been blown away. Inside the Hall of Agriculture, there was no danger except that of being touched by all the visitors, so unusual was the arachnidan hut. Circular emblems representing the Brazilian states, placed in the center of the arches, gave the effect of large inquisitive eyes, accentuating the tribal inspiration. (*3)
Large bales of cotton flanked the four corners, confirming to visitors that they were about to enter a white realm. Each was marked with the origin of the crop. On two hessian sacks, a label read in Brazilian and English: "Plantação de algodão Liam Roberts, estado de São Paulo" - Cotton Plantation Liam Roberts, Province of São Paulo.
Alexander Dean's young fiancée took off her fine lace glove to dip a hand into the bag and delicately pick up a few balls of fluffy fiber between her fingers.
Duncan was amused: "Since you have been able to walk, it has never occurred to you to go near a ball of cotton that has made the fortune of Soft South!
Melina just smiled at her brother, then joined the others in the makeshift hut.
Aesthetically, the six-storey pyramid of elongated glass bells was a feast for the eyes and nose. They were filled to the brim with coffee beans of varying sizes and colors, depending on the plantation. The aroma of the energizing beans was intoxicating.
Cathleen and Melina decided to take some packets of Brazilian coffee back to Magnolias Mansion. The shop assistant offered to take a bite out of some of the beans, but they preferred to make their selection by picking out the prettiest labels.
Duncan sniffed one of the many cigars displayed above the boxes of tobacco leaves and bulk bags ready for purchase by American merchants. Another Brazilian fortune lay at his feet. It was tempting to compare their bouquet with that of Havana. He picked up two boxes and was about to pay for all the purchases when his sister called him.
"Duncan! Look at these fabrics! Some of them are labelled 'Fábricas têxteis do estado de São Paulo - Filatura Liam Roberts, São Paulo, Brazil'!
"Ah! You have found what we came to the Brazilian pavilion for: my old friend's fabrics!"
Scarlett examined them as a clothing specialist: "The quality is good. The weave is a little different from ours in the South. The result is interesting."
Duncan came to the same conclusion. Of course, he would need to examine more samples with different weaves. But adding a touch of South American exoticism to some of Duncan Fashion's designs, and giving his friend's production an international boost, was a project he would see through.
All he had to do was make a sign for the salesman to come and pay for his purchases: wine, cigars and some of Liam's fabrics, of which Melina had picked out a few yards for herself. And coffee. Why on earth did they want to take so many packets of Brazilian coffee?
The buying frenzy seems to have caught up with them again. My goodness! If it makes them happy... He again ordered the parcels to be delivered at 19.30.
"Ladies, let us end our tour of the Agricultural Hall by passing Italy and France! We are just a few steps away. These two old countries hold out their arms to us!"
Women and children fell under the spell of Italy. Between the displays of Parmesan and Gorgonzola cheeses from Milan, macaroni and dried fruit from Naples, and olives and figs from Sicily, they did not know where to keep their eyes. Most of all, they wondered if they would find the willpower to resist the temptation of all these tantalizing samples.
Leaving them under the protection of Barnabee and Prissy, Duncan moved a little further towards the heart of the transept where Germany and France resided.
The latticework, gilded by the bright rays of the late morning sun, was a special sign of the sacred nature of the place: that dedicated to Bacchus, the god of wine. For despite the elegant window displays of delicacies and fine preserves, most men were only interested in the rows of thousands of bottles of wine that promised euphoric libations.
The German Pavilion made this clear by erecting a pagan altar at the entrance to its section in honor of the white wines of the Rhine. It consisted of four huge columns, each side decorated with rows of bottles, and crowned by four giant blown glass bottles over three meters high. The effect was guaranteed: tasters jostled each other to try the Riesling and Gewurztraminer, then did the same with the beers, with German breweries taking the lion's share.
Duncan did not give the German drinks a moment's thought.
"In Vino Veritas," he laughed out loud. The Latin phrase "In Wine, Truth" was both appropriate and funny! The truth... Three of them had known it. No, only two left...
A valve from which bubbling blood gushed with fury; bright red, indelible red, like a wine stain on the immaculate whiteness of a veil. A wedding veil...
He shook himself. Was he losing his mind? Enough phantasmagoria!
And yet... There he stood, motionless, at the entrance to the French wine exhibition, ready to give in to the temptation of 'knowing' again.
What was there to know? He knew the beginning; he knew the end, made of tears and blood.
Why go on when I am finally happy, when the most attractive woman in the world is only a few meters away and, if all goes according to plan, she will be Mrs. Vayton and soon in my bed...
But curiosity got the better of him.
It is a chance to fill the cellar of Magnolias Mansion with the best vintage I have ever had. At least the excuse was credible...
He did not have much time, as Scarlett and his family were about to join him. Where to look amidst all the French wine debauchery? There were hundreds of displays: elegant showcases reserved for prestigious vintages, rudimentary racks made of wooden slats ready to be delivered to café owners, wrought-iron cages with corrugated iron shelves and padlocked doors, bottle racks straight from the cellars, not to mention the iron 'hedgehogs' for hanging empty bottles - but with the merchants' labels to show them off.
I should better be looking for a needle in a haystack, he sighed, disheartened.
He felt even more frustrated because, by some twist of fate or devil's spell, the people in charge of the booths seemed to have vanished into thin air. The few stallholders who could be seen were occupied by would-be buyers who never let them out of their sight.
Weary, he proceeded methodically, passing indifferently in front of the luxurious Champagne Mercier display, for only browsing the stalls offering red Bordeaux.
The labels flashed before his eyes. He did not even take the time to read them, his brain trained to respond only to a particular vintage. He had no trouble finding it, as it was one of the 'jewels' protected in the display cases.
But... not the brand that burned on his tongue...
He scanned the stands of three American agents representing French wines at a speed that made him dizzy.
Meanwhile, the O'Hara and Vayton families had also entered the French pavilion. Children and adults alike salivated in front of the richly sculpted window display of Chocolaterie Meunier - "Founded in 1760! Can you believe it?" - where slabs of chocolate and bite-sized truffles waited to be devoured.
After sampling foie gras, duck confit, and pork rillettes on tiny croutons, Cathleen and Scarlett allowed themselves to finish those last morning's shopping in high note.
Satisfied that she had once again succumbed to the sin of gluttony, Scarlett looked up to see Duncan in the central aisle.
Then she noticed his surprising behavior: Why is he in such a hurry to look at the labels on the bottles? He hardly has left one stand that he is entering in another, as if he had the devil in him... You still have the ability to surprise me, my dear Duncan!
The persistence of the latter was finally rewarded when a trader from the biggest stand came to meet him.
Duncan wasted no time: "I am a great lover of Bordeaux wines. My cellar is well stocked with the best vintages. I am particularly fond of those from the Médoc territory, and Pauillac in particular".
The most influential representative of the Bordeaux winegrowers expressed his admiration for this elegant young man who exuded financial ease and good taste.
"I am honored to be talking to a refined oenophile! The commune of Pauillac is at the top of the list of the best wines in Bordeaux and... "
Duncan cut him off. He had no time to waste on palaver. "Yes, I know the 1855 classification. What can you offer me?" (*4)
"The most prestigious are here. As you know, Château Lafitte, Château Latour and Mouton du Baron de Rotschild are the treasures of French wine. I also represent... "
Disregarding politeness, the Charlestonian cut him off: "Very well. I will take one crate of each Château Lafitte and Château Latour. Add three cases of Mouton de Rothschild. My guests are fond of that one and there are only a few bottles left in my cellar. Personally, I am very fond of a wine I discovered when I lived in Paris. Its bouquet is a delight to the palate. But my New York wine merchant can no longer supply it. It comes from the Château de Fleurette vineyard. Do you have any in stock?"
The wine merchant's friendly face, which had lit up at the announcement of this large order for the most expensive wines, was tinged with a shadow of annoyance. He grimaced in frustration: "Ah, yes, you are definitely a lover of the best, because Château de Fleurette was about to join the only four prestigious Premier Crus. Unfortunately, production has been discontinued."
Duncan stuck a hand into his jacket pocket so that his fingernails could dig into his palm. But his face showed nothing. "It is surprising, because when I left France three years ago, I bought several cases of it from the best wine merchant in Paris - everything he had actually."
The Frenchman nodded, "You made a wise decision. It was probably part of his own stock. Château de Fleurette was bought a few years ago. The buyer changed the name of the brand and above all drastically reduced the quality of production. So much so that it never managed to get back into the famous classification. I am sorry that I cannot satisfy you better. May I suggest another Pauillac whose bouquet is more or less similar to that of Château de Fleurette?
This time the businessman, used to having his every wish fulfilled, did not hide his annoyance. He took out his wallet: "No. Please settle the bill and deliver the order to my private varnish at the station at 7:p.m. However..." - He handed him one of his business cards, bearing the name of the President of Vayton Inc. "However, should you be able to supply me with any more bottles, or should you be able to provide me with more accurate information as to the date on which Château de Fleurette ceased trading, I would be most grateful. He said the last words, staring at him intently. The other man understood the implication and was salivating at the prospect of the net gain such a discovery would bring to his bank account.
After paying for his order and adding two banknotes to his handshake with the Frenchman, he concluded: "If you hear anything, send me a telegram."
As he was joining 'his girls' in the aisle, he inhaled and exhaled deeply, closing his eyelids briefly as if to banish the memory of his presence at the French wine exhibition.
Scarlett's emerald eyes stared back at him. How I can hardly wait to hold you in my arms, my exciting future!
"Let us leave the Hall of Agriculture. It is high time we had something to eat."
The bells of Fairmount Park chimed the twelve strokes of noon.
oooooOOoooo
They came to a halt in front of a beautiful building with a façade lined entirely with glass arches and topped by two octagonal towers. Dozens of carriages were unloading their passengers and mingling with the pedestrians.
"So many people! We will not be served for another hour, I am afraid!" complained Melina.
"On the contrary, the service will be quick. The guide assures us that Lauber's has the capacity to serve 1,200 people at a time! It is said that this German restaurant is the most popular at the fair".
Pork and Prissy left them to eat the sausages and sauerkraut served on large tables outside.
They sat under a huge veranda overlooking a large green area decorated with statues. An orchestra was playing Viennese waltzes on a bandstand.
"This place has charm!" The real charm, for Scarlett, was that she could finally rest her feet... But she would have had to be tortured to tell it, especially in front of the indefatigable Duncan!
"This music would prompt me to take you for a wild waltz, Scarlett!"
She refrained from telling him that she could no longer even move her little toe.
"Everyone rushes in to try their specialty: Hamburg steak. It was even mentioned in an article in my newspaper. There is no doubt that the hamburger craze will catch on in America!"
Children and adults alike indulged themselves. Still, as usual, the three women ate without excess. But Scarlett openly enjoyed the Bavarian chocolate cake.
"Hm... what lightness! I should not admit it - and my Mammy would probably scold me - but it is a delight!"
Duncan laughed heartily. "It is a pleasure to watch you eat life to your heart's content, Scarlett!"
Cathleen was watching her son's movements. Was he in love? She was intrigued... and a little worried...
oooooOOooooo
As on the previous day, Duncan left the Vayton and O'Hara families - including Wade - to take a nap in the Globe Hotel under Barnabee's protection.
In the Machinery Hall, he walked at a brisk pace to the stand of a British sewing machine manufacturer who had launched a brand new model for professional use. He did not bother to visit the other stands, as La Mode Duncan was personally informed of the latest innovations from American manufacturers. For this reason, he even overlooked the Singer stand, which was so dominant in the market that the company had its own demonstration hall in Fairmount Park. For the same reason, he gave only a few minutes of his time to the textile industry section, making sure that he knew about the improvements made to the new weaving machines. Between his factory in Roubaix, France, and his Vayton & Harvey spinning mill, he had all the suppliers and information he needed to keep his factories at the cutting edge of modernity.
After his little professional visit, he asked the coachman to take him to the other end of the Machinery Hall, in front of the Centennial Photographic Association building, to collect the six prints he had ordered. A precious booty, he congratulated himself, while caressing the voluptuous curves revealed by Scarlett's dress on glossy paper.
The word 'booty' strangely awakened another desire in the man who could buy anything. Everything, that is, except what he had been denied the day before...
Back in the Main Building, he wasted no time in finding his way to the Brazilian pavilion.
The stand manager recognized him immediately and came over to greet him.
Duncan got straight to the point: "Yesterday I was impressed by the artist's work, which is displayed in several of the showcases. You told me that his works will be returned to Brazil at the end of the exhibition. They have little to do with the collection of insects and minerals, which is probably why you have almost hidden them at the back of the display cases. I must be one of the only people to have noticed their presence on this stand. I therefore conclude" - his blue eyes stared intently at the Brazilian, who wondered what this rich and generous man was getting at - "I therefore conclude that it would not detract from the prestige of your exhibition if they were to disappear...".
His tone became insinuating: "A plausible hypothesis would be that they were damaged in transit, or that a visitor accidentally spilled his drink on them. Surely you are a resourceful man who will be able to explain their disappearance to their owner - in return for compensation, of course. Rest assured that your intervention will be handsomely rewarded... "As he did so, the billionaire took a thick wad of banknotes from his wallet.
The head of the Brazilian Pavilion wiped the beads of sweat that were beginning to form on his forehead with his handkerchief. All that money for just a few scraps of paper, worthless in his humble opinion... He immediately imagined spending those dollars to satisfy a desire that was nagging at him. By a sudden effect of prestidigitation, the American gentleman had taken on the mask of the Tempter.
But... a flash of lucidity shattered the bubble of lucre shimmering before his eyes. Discouraged, he replied: "Unfortunately, that's impossible. Only four days ago, the Emperor himself witnessed the late installation of these paintings in our exhibition by a member of his retinue. I remember being touched that the venerable Dom Pedro amused himself by arranging them according to the wishes of the young man who accompanied him. He seemed to want them to go almost unnoticed. Isn't that amazing?"
It was a revelation for Duncan: his initial impression that he was on a treasure hunt for works signed by the man in the parrot painting was correct. He was the only participant. And the ringleader, probably the artist called 'Div', was the instigator, with the playful complicity of the Emperor of Brazil himself. What a fantastic story, he thought. All the more reason for these works to be mine!
With all the charm he used with finesse in a business negotiation involving thousands of dollars, he smiled and waved his hand as if to say that all these arguments were nothing.
Carlos" - he used the first name on the label on the lapel of his jacket - "Carlos, I see in you an ambitious man destined for a brilliant future in your country. Yesterday I noticed your talent for showing visitors the riches that Brazil has to offer. Keep up the good work - and if I may give you some wise business advice - do not miss out on the opportunities you have to grow".
He shook his hand again. When he withdrew it, the large wad of American banknotes remained in the Brazilian's palm - and he immediately closed it again, afraid that the unexpected booty would disappear.
Sensing that he had won the game, he offered him a strategy for extricating himself from his future lie: "When the Centennial closes in November, you will have a lot of work organizing the packing of all those thousands of items. You will need to hire new staff. Sometimes people get distracted in the course of their work. I would not be surprised if one of them misplaced a box containing certain documents, such as Div's five paintings. And some school notebooks - to make the story more credible. In fact, I would like to add a student's workbook that I noticed yesterday".
He slipped two banknotes into Carlos's hand and, certain that the little representative of the Brazilian Pavilion was now at his command, grabbed the Ecole des Arts et Métiers student's sketchbook.
The oil paintings, the four watercolors and the charcoal were then hastily packed into the notebook.
Before leaving, Duncan took out his card: "When the shipment arrives in Rio de Janeiro, if you find that a box has unfortunately been left behind, send me a telegram with the bank details of the owner of the paintings. I will arrange for the Director of the Centennial - who is a friend of mine - to act as intermediary and compensate him handsomely for this incident".
Carlos was speechless, so stunned was he by the virtuosity with which the American had achieved his goal.
With a final thank-you to the man, Duncan left the Main Building with a light heart, the cumbersome package clutched tightly to his chest. He savored only for a moment the satisfaction that the man had indulged his whim - which, he admitted to himself without shame, was only due to the fact that he had been refused beforehand.
He was ready to devote himself to the beautiful Scarlett, the Lady of his heart!
OoooOOoooo
Thursday 22nd July 1876, 2pm, "Caffé do Brazil", Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pa.
"To end our exploration of the Centennial in style, what better place than the Hall of Horticulture!"
Duncan was interrupted by his sister: "Look, just across the street! There is a little house with a sign saying 'Caffé do Brazil'. A Brazilian coffee, don't you think?" (*5)
"That is a good idea, little sister. What do you think, Mother? What about you, Scarlett? A stimulating drink will give us more energy as we set out to conquer the Horticultural Hall".
Outside the small restaurant, a musician was singing a Brazilian tune to the accompaniment of a guitar. There were few seats, most of them occupied by men smoking cigars.
Duncan made room for his 'four girls' and Wade. With the exception of the two children, who were treated to the house specialty of orangeade, everyone decided they had to try the famous coffee, whose roasted beans they had admired that morning.
They were served in small cups - which did not displease the women at all, as the blend was "full-bodied", a far cry from the light coffee usually served in the United States.
The owner had hung some engravings of coffee plantations on the walls. Most of them were colorful illustrations advertising different brands of coffee.
Looking at them, Melina was delighted: "I think we were right to buy the 'Caffé da Torre' brand, Mother. Judging by the number of posters, it is the most famous and, I hope, the best!"
Duncan raised an eyebrow: "Da Torre must be the name of a historical figure, because it is on the label of the wine I bought this morning. Or maybe it belongs to a powerful industrial empire. I will talk to Liam about it. It might be interesting to do business with them.
Accustomed to full-bodied Parisian coffee, Duncan drank the almost black nectar down to the last drop.
oooooOOooooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 2pm, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, on the Atlantic Ocean
They had long since emptied their plates but, like many other First Class passengers, they lingered around a table in the dining room.
Conversation flowed casually as they sipped the finest strong alcohol from the Ville de Bordeaux cellar. Rhett did not repeat his mistake of the previous day, suggesting a glass of cognac to Percevejo, who settled for a cup of coffee.
"Rhett, could you tell us more about the collections that will be on display in your museums? What an opportunity this will be for Americans to see the remains of ancient Egypt!"
Rhett readily complied with the young Brazilian's request, especially as his precise questions demonstrated his knowledge of the science of Egyptology.
"Before we leave for Antwerp, Pei and I are going to visit the Louvre. I have been dreaming about it for so long!" The young man's blue eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Nikolaas tried to contain his enthusiasm: "If we followed your wishes, we would spend the whole week studying, painting after sculpture, all the works of art in the museum." With a satisfied smile, he pointed to Rhett, who had no difficulty recognizing it himself: "This boy is an artist at heart. He has a passion for everything. Then he turned back to Percevejo and said: "We have to make a choice, though, because you know we are only going to be in Paris for three days."
"Unfortunately..." It was the only sign of frustration that Percevejo dared to express openly. "So, if you do not mind, we will start with the Department of Egyptology and the latest excavations that Monsieur Mariette has exhibited."
"Auguste Mariette? Your knowledge impresses me, young man! I met him by chance in Cairo."
"Really? His Majesty Dom Pedro showed me the daguerreotype of our Emperor taken with the great Egyptologist. The two of them are posing in the middle of the desert, in front of the Sphinx in the necropolis of Giza. (*6) Everything about this piece of paper is magical: the brand-new photographic invention colliding and fixing for a part of eternity - at least for a few years, I hope - Eternity itself. 2500 years before Jesus Christ! How I would love to discover that by myself!"
Nikolaas patted his shoulder affectionately. "You have your whole life ahead of you, my boy, to discover the world. Right now, your mother is so reluctant to part with you that we had to leave São Paulo to be near your school in Rio de Janeiro. So, Egypt... you still have time to think about it. I had enough trouble convincing her to agree to our trip to Europe".
"It is a fine sign of trust from the Emperor of Brazil to show you his travelling memories!"
Percevejo replied modestly, "He knew me as a child. He has honored our family with his friendship for a very long time."
Rhett found this resourceful boy very likeable. And humble!
As they were leaving the table, a waiter approached with a small wicker basket under his arm. He handed it to Percevejo: "Mr. Da Torre, here are the apples you ordered for your cabin."
The young man thanked him. It was time to say goodbye and enjoy a refreshing siesta. The rhythm of life on the liner was settling in nicely.
oooooOOooooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 2.30 p.m., Horticultural Hall, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pa.
"Let's storm the Horticultural Hall, now!"
Children and adults alike opened their eyes in amazement. It was an enchantment of colors! Like a canopy, there was a spectrum of green: the delicate green of the young shoots, the green of the ferns as black as the Charleston's one, or the neat green of the succulents. Reds, blues, pinks, purples and all the shades that the eye can perceive are displayed in a flood of flowers. In harmony with the colorful vegetation, the Andalusian-style sculpted arches, painted in blue, black and red brick, ran the length of the building, while the cast-iron balustrade of the internal balcony around the first floor stood out in its icy white paint.
Visitors were all the more stunned by this orgy of color as, from the moment they entered, they were dazzled by the light streaming through the huge bay windows and glass roof. The impressive hanging bronze chandeliers, each adorned with some thirty glass tulips, seemed unnecessary except to emphasize the unparalleled opulence of the Horticultural Hall.
Cathleen was won over by the setting: "All our senses are engaged in this paradise: sight, sound, smell... What a pleasure!"
Indeed, the enchanting scents of pepper, sugar and perfume wafted from the flowers, vegetation and oily soil. Ignoring the hubbub inherent in any hall teeming with human words and mechanical manipulations, the ear was pleasantly stimulated by the chirping of birds flitting above this unexpected seed-rich reserve, and by the trickle of fountains scattered throughout the vast hall.
Duncan looked solemn and addressed the Widow Vayton directly: "Mother, I have just come to a decision. Compared to this huge greenhouse, our conservatory in Soft South looks like a Lilliputian set. I am thinking of contacting one or two of the landscape gardeners here and asking them to extend the wings of the building to accommodate a hundred of these exotic species.
Disregarding the fact being in public, Cathleen exclaimed in dismay: "My son, have you lost your mind? Are you taking over from your father, who kept adding new plants to his precious greenhouse? His flowers saw him more often than I did, to my great despair. You are not thinking of expanding the Winter Garden, are you?"
Duncan laughed childishly, happy to have played a good trick on his mother. He caressed her arm affectionately: "Forgive your son for being so teasing with you. Far be it from me: our winter garden is perfect just the way it is."
Reassured, she recovered from her emotions by admiring her new surroundings with greater serenity.
He moved closer to Scarlett and whispered: "I prefer the intimate setting of my Garden of Eden, where I have been able to smell the most intoxicating perfumes and caress the most delicate, heady skin with my lips..."
Scarlett blushed. The frank evocation of the minutes when she had abandoned herself to him on the sofa, and when his mouth had greedily roamed over her breasts gave her the vapors. She pretended not to understand his erotic allusion and took Ella's hand to wander through this exotic forest.
Getting serious again, Duncan became the efficient guide for their small group of tourists, especially as he knew his subject perfectly - apart from a few exotic species.
The Charlestonians and Georgians, young and old, took it in turns to marvel at the range of species on display: camphor and lemon trees, eucalyptus, feathery ferns, succulents from the Havana acclimatization garden, other species from Japan, China and so many other exotic countries that Wade found it hard to pinpoint for his little sister.
"Mother! What are all these people eating? They seem to be enjoying themselves..." Men, women and children were hovering around three large trees with gigantic leaves falling one on top of the other.
At the base of the leaves, flower buds were fanning out until they ripened into bunches of tasty fruit.
Duncan replied: "They are called bananas, and they come from Malaysia. These new fruits are sure to be a big success in America."
Indeed, people were queuing up to be served. Duncan took charge of ordering. Alike their arrival at the Centennial two days earlier, his elegant presence earned him the privilege of being served first.
At small tables set up for the purpose, they sampled the strange fruit, with its golden sunshine and sweet taste, served wrapped in paper with knife and fork (*2).
"It is a delicacy worthy of the fruits of Adam and Eve's paradise!"
They finished their frugal meal by quenching their thirst with "Arctic sodas" from Tufts', sitting on a bench arranged around Margareth Foley's fountain. It was the artistic attraction of the hall for the charming scene realistically depicted three children, sheltered from the sun's rays by the foliage, dipping their feet in the water of the fountain. Scarlett, Cathleen and Melina silently regretted not being able to do the same, while Wade and Ella would have loved to wade in.
They neglected the wings attached to the main building, whose low, semi-cylindrical skylights provided warmth and vitamins to the young shoots from the meticulously labelled nurseries.
In the canvas-covered outbuilding, Cathleen and Melina stood in awe of the beds of thousands of flowers that soaked up the greenhouse's warmth and stretched on forever. All the rhododendrons in England, in their infinite variety, seemed to have gathered at Fairmount Park. 70,000 hyacinths and so many other flowers in pots alternated in the Horticultural Hall according to the months in which they bloomed, between May and November that year.
A crowd of women had gathered in front of a series of fake glass windows. "It is the trendy attraction!" Melina commented. Indeed, houseplants had become an integral part of the decoration of middle-class homes. "Look, Scarlett! These wrought-iron flower stands hide a self-draining irrigation system invented by a woman, I read. It is called a window garden. Lovely, isn't it?"
Cathleen decided that these furnishings were of no use in her palatial Magnolias Mansion, nestled in the heart of the vast, ever-blooming garden. But she replied gently to her daughter: "Let's ask for the catalogue. It might be a good idea to decorate the future home you will share with Alexander Dean..."
Scarlett, paying only polite attention to the flower doors, noticed that Melina had suddenly turned darker and walked away from the stall without picking up a brochure.
"Do you hear?" Wade stood up, soon followed by the others. Sounds of music had just entered the hall, scaring the birds into hiding in the foliage, but drawing the visitors to the source of the music as magically as a flute player draws a crowd in his wake.
A great lover of musical instruments and a musician himself, Duncan had read with great interest an article explaining the invention of this rather unusual barrel organ. He was able to summarize its operation to Wade, who was drinking in his words:
"It is called the electro-magnetic orchestra. The note-reading machine is connected to electric wires. Do you see that roll of perforated sheet music? It is drawn under a row of hundreds of charged readers, which recognize the notes and immediately telegraph them to the corresponding magnet, triggering the playing of one of the twelve instruments marked on the sheet of music. As a result, this "performer with a hundred fingers", as the inventor puts it, "gives the impression of attending a concert with more than a dozen musicians".
Wade was amazed. He would spend hours telling his friends about the scientific advances and wonders discovered in Philadelphia!
"Ladies, before you leave the hall, I invite you to discover the Promenade!" He pointed to the elegant double staircase leading upstairs."
The beauty of the ornamental artwork, with its finely chiseled banisters topped by candelabra, stood out among the multicolored arches of the horseshoe-shaped pediment.
They walked along the tiled gallery and through the doorway to the outside. The walkway - planted more than twenty feet above the ground - ran around the entire perimeter of the building. The parquet-covered gallery resembled the terrace of an eighteenth-century castle, with its tall torches fixed to the protective railings.
"Magnificent! "Impressive! "What an incredible view! They were all at a loss for words, the view before them so breathtaking.
The flower beds around the fountains and sculptures scattered throughout Fairmount Park had been methodically laid out to follow the pedestrian walkways and main avenues. From this vantage point, visitors could see that the architects' extravagant dream had been transformed into an achievement of harmony and beauty, a tribute to the glory of the birthday of the United States of America.
They had fun guessing the silhouettes of the pavilions they had visited during their three days at the Centennial.
"There are some little houses scattered here and there. What are they?"
"Twenty-six of America's thirty-seven states have built their own buildings in Fairmount Park to display their distinctive productions. The dream of the Centennial Commission was to present an image of a country reunited after the war. But only the northern states are represented. We Southerners refused to participate. The scars of defeat and federal occupation are too vivid. Only one Southern state has agreed to be here and has its own pavilion, that of Mississippi. The Yankee governor went against the Deep South because he felt this was an opportunity for Mississippi's natural wealth to tap into the potential of the economic markets that are being scooped up by the bucketful in Philadelphia right now. I have to concede - despite my unwavering loyalty to the South - that he was probably right, by the way..."
Duncan sighed, then casually dismissed the past.
"The view is so... poetic, with the Schuylkill River winding for miles around Fairmount Park, with the panorama of downtown Philadelphia in the distance!"
Scarlett smiled discreetly: I am ready to bet that Melina is dreaming of admiring it with someone else…
"They look like the servants of a temple!" Scarlett pointed to a group of gigantic sculptures clustered in a cross in the middle of the greenery.
"It is indeed a temple, but of a special kind - and we are going there now. This will be our last stop before we say goodbye to the Centennial!"
ooooOOoooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 4.30pm, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, on the Atlantic Ocean
What if I am on the wrong track? Rhett was gesturing nervously on the Promenade deck, plagued by a thousand questions.
What if I wasted my energy needlessly by searching for my rival's hypothetical weak point in France? How could an old story interfere with this devious man's lustful aims? Above all, how could it affect Scarlett's perception of him, stubborn as a mule in her infatuation with the billionaire? If this man has ghosts in his wardrobe, so be it! It will not impress the woman who faced down Sherman's army and killed a fugitive without remorse. The sinful life of the Honorable Duncan Vayton will not move the woman who shocked the entire Atlanta community by shamelessly coveting the husband of a saint. The many adventures of the seductive Vayton will not impress her compared to the multiple cheatings I have put her through. Especially as she has strung together husbands like beads on a rosary: the Widow Hamilton, the Widow Kennedy, the former Mrs Butler - and soon to be the Widow Butler if she continues to drive me crazy...
Anyway, even if there was a hypothetical Vayton mystery, it did not explain Scarlett's sudden rejection of him on the train. Why had the young lover who had passionately offered herself to him turned into an icy woman a few minutes later, throwing her implacable decision to break up in his face? That was the enigma he had to unravel.
Whether he had stolen or killed in the past did not alter the fact that the imminent danger was simply the physical presence of Vayton, at this very moment, with the sensuous Mrs. Butler.
As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he preferred to call his neighbor from the Battery a 'presumptuous and inconsistent dressmaker', he recognized him as his equal - at least in one respect.
Since the night of the South Battery fashion show, the womanizer had sensed another expert at deflowering shy virgins, satisfying whores who usually put little effort into paid work, and above all, luring the most prudish and respectable young ladies of the best society down the tempting slope of lust - and into his bed.
Scarlett, of course, was Vayton's favorite prey! Scarlett with every fiber of her body vibrating like the strings of a violin under his fingers, Scarlett who had accepted that he had finally dared to make her come, Scarlett who had stunned him by taking the initiative with her caresses - and what caresses... –
Good God! Or any other god from hell! He would damn himself, without a shadow of a doubt, to relive the ecstasy under her graceful fingers and her luscious lips...
He had to get home as soon as possible. Even if she had inexplicably banished him from Peachtree Street, he would force open her door, he would force open her lips so that she could once again moan with pleasure beneath him. And she would officially be Mrs. Rhett Butler again!
ooooOOooooo
Thursday 22nd July 1876, 4.30pm, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, Pa.
As they left the building, Ella exclaimed: "Look! A train flying... Well, in the air!"
"You are right, Ella." He then explained further to the three women who were watching the strange carriage warily. "It is a revolutionary new suspended elevated railway being tested for the Centennial. It runs on three tracks."
Ella continued her observation: "It looks like there are two levels."
"Another win, Ella!" He patted her cheek in congratulation. "There can be sixty passengers on two decks and in a single carriage. The rails are suspended in the air on iron posts reinforced by wooden legs. It runs between the hall we have just left and the Agricultural Hall. At first I was tempted to try it with you to cover this short distance - just 500 feet - so that you could enjoy the panoramic view of the park. It only takes two or three minutes.
But for three little cents you could have had the fright of your life, as its sole function is to fly over the Belmont Ravine. Which means, ladies, you could have tilted your head and admired the view below. However, I was not sure you would have enjoyed the idea of being suspended 30 feet in the air," he concluded, laughing at the horrified looks on the faces of his four favorite girls.
Only Wade had a regret pout. He consoled himself that he would have another invention to describe to his comrades in Atlanta.
The small group disembarked from the two Surrays on Fountain Avenue, near the Hall of Machinery.
Even Scarlett, who was not given to gawping at works of art, expressed her admiration for the group of phenomenally tall sculptures - more than 20 feet, according to the former sawmill owner, who was used to estimating dimensions.
Once again, their providential guide was able to solve the mystery of this bizarre collection of stone giants.
"This is the temple initiated by the "American Catholic Union for Total Abstinence!"
Scarlett raised her eyebrows with a wry expression. Are they related to that old magpie Dolly Merriweather? she thought - so eloquently - that Duncan took her hand and laughed.
"It is true that their main aim - and the obsession of these respectable ladies - is to force their fellow men to abstain from drinking the demonic 'firewater'. But I have to admit that, for once, puritanism has done some good in the form of this monument.
On a granite platform more than 100 feet in circumference, four marble pedestals with statues were erected at the four ends of the Maltese cross. In the center, even more majestic and towering above the figures depicted, stood a colossal Moses on a rock, holding the Tables of the Law in one hand. Water gushed from cracks in the rock into a circular pool.
"It is a tribute to the figures who took part in our revolutionary struggle: Lafayette, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, a commander of the French fleet, and other personalities around the basin. But most of all, the fresh water fountains are a treat before we leave the Centennial for good."
Cathleen and Melina went off to admire the heroes of American independence. Wade and Ella had fun deciphering the names of the illustrious ancestors whose heads were engraved in medallions on the stone surround of the large basin.
Duncan took the opportunity to lead Scarlett to the foot of a statue where they were alone. At the four corners of the pedestal, the mouth of a large lion's head spilled water into a marble basin.
Scarlett carefully removed her gloves to drink, using both hands as cups.
Duncan moved even closer to her.
"Not drinking, Duncan? This is surprisingly fresh. The ice blocks must be hidden in a hatch in the back."
But the Charlestonian had other things on his mind than the location of the cooling system.
Scarlett could tell. The atmosphere changed in a second.
His dilated pupils ate up most of the deep blue of his irises.
"What better place to enjoy this fountain of jouvance than at the feet of Father Matthew, the Catholic bard of temperance?"
His intonation was so subdued that Scarlett was confused. "You are the Fountain of Eternal Youth that I long to drink from endlessly without ever being sated..."
Frozen, she let him take her hands and put them back under the lion's mouth.
Then he lowered his head. Her cheeks were burning. She felt his curly hair brush against her blouse.
Instead of drinking in one gulp, he expertly licked up the water that had warmed on Scarlett's skin, taking his time. Then his tongue rushed through her fingers and slid lazily down to the base of her wrist. Not a drop of water remained, except for a trace of Duncan's saliva, which burned the young woman's skin like lava.
She heard him whisper "My Ardent", the sweet, unique word he had showered her with when the same mouth had roamed over her in the Winter Garden.
Her heart began to beat wildly. How could he make her body react like that? And why did she let him? Then she remembered that they were engaged and that in three months their engagement would be made public. But in the meantime... His moustache tickled her skin. His moustache... Other moustaches... Rhett!
She withdrew her hands from his grasp and quickly put her gloves back on, as if to create a protective barrier against the assaults of the all too experienced seducer. Just in time for him to straighten up, Cathleen and Melina came towards them. From where they stood they could see nothing but the couple standing side by side, Duncan's head bent towards the lion's mouth.
It took a few seconds for the experienced seducer to come to his senses. Scarlett joined her two new friends and commented on the splendour of the fountain, which glorified abstinence from all sins.
"Ladies, Wade and Ella, it is time." He had regained his Charleston gentlemanly composure. "Let us bid farewell to Fairmount Park and the Centennial. We have just enough time to get ready to leave our hotel and join our varnish. On to Atlanta and Charleston!"
ooooOOooooo
Thursday 22 July 1876, 10.00 pm, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, on the Atlantic Ocean
"Have you ever played poker, Percevejo?"
The young man looked uncomfortable in front of Nikolaas, but then conceded: "Between roommates, at the Ecole des Arts et Métiers, we sometimes spend our time playing cards. The only stakes are coffee beans!" he said, looking at his Pei.
The four of them were sitting in the men's smoking room. A pack of cards mysteriously emerged from the Poker King's jacket.
"Perfect! I am going to teach you - if you do not mind, Nikolaas - some unstoppable tricks that will enable you to stun the students at your university, faith of Rhett Butler!"
One game followed another. Rhett was unusually lenient with his young disciple, even though he took the opportunity to "strangle" his two other opponents, who were disgusted by his implacable "hands".
"Tell us the truth, Rhett: has anyone ever beaten you? I was reputed to have some talent for it in Paris, but you manage to trick me and Nikolaas every time."
Rhett's whiskers twitched in satisfaction. "Maybe I sound conceited, but I have built up quite a reputation over the years. That of being the King of Poker - only in the Southern States, I assure you" he ironized. As for the Northern states, let's just say there are three or four players who outplay me from time to time."
Nikolaas and Archibald were not surprised, and admitted defeat once and for all. As for Percevejo, the admiration he felt for this fascinating character, Captain Butler, was growing by the hour.
Falsely charitable, Rhett was magnanimous enough to offer them a glimpse of a hypothetical future victory: "Do not worry, I lose - from time to time - when I am preoccupied with certain things." With a sardonic laugh, he cruelly concluded: "So do not give up hope!"
But his opponents laid down their arms and a more peaceful discussion began.
"Let us talk about Paris, which will soon open its arms to us!"
"Well, as I understand it, your stay in Paris will be very short, and your priority is to visit the Louvre." Rhett took a business card from his inside jacket pocket and scribbled something: "As soon as you arrive, go to the reception with this note and ask to see the curator of the museum with my recommendation. I will probably be there myself at that time to check that all the items in my museum's catalogue have been packed. I will tell my friend to show you the private collections. We have here an erudite and passionate young man who deserves that France opens the doors of knowledge to him".
Percevejo thanked him warmly, so touched was he by Rhett's kindness and the privilege of admiring beauties usually hidden from visitors.
"Paris and France are full of beauty, and it is a pity you can only stay three days. But as we have said before, you have your whole life ahead of you and will have many opportunities to return, I am sure".
Archibald said to Nikolaas, "Perhaps you could join my 'impressionist' friends - as Rhett calls them - at our usual tavern?"
Percevejo nodded immediately: "Oh yes! I would love to discuss painting with some French artists and compare their techniques with those of Brazil and... "
Nikolaas immediately dampened his enthusiasm: "Diva would never agree. She warned me to protect you from any harmful influences."
Archibald winced at the phrase 'harmful influence' but did not flinch. He knew that Nikolaas' 'no', and even more so Diva's 'no', was a dead end.
The obedient son did not hide his disappointment and even tried to justify the maternal refusal in front of Rhett. In fact, Rhett's furrowed brow was showing his incomprehension of the authoritarian upbringing the young man had to endure as he approached adulthood.
"My mother has always been very protective of me. And I thank her because she is the best and most loving of mothers. She only wants me to be happy, but I have to admit that she likes to plan everything so that the slightest spark does not disturb our harmonious rhythm of life". He lifted his shoulders wearily, "You told us you were from Charleston, Rhett. I was a keen student of the Civil War and would have liked to have seen Fort Sumter up close during our brief visit four days ago."
Nikolaas tried to explain his frustration: "You know that was impossible, Percevejo. Your mother insisted that we return to our hotel as soon as the diamonds were delivered to the jeweler in Charleston, before taking the boat the next day. It is a pity, but if it means keeping her serenity, we are both happy, aren't we, my boy?"
Percevejo agreed and bravely concluded: "Yes. She was right. She always is."
Rhett felt that the two men had agreed not to criticize this authoritarian mother in the slightest. Obviously, a great love seemed to unite the three of them.
This made him even more nostalgic for the family waiting for him in Atlanta. He had only one aim to look forward to: making sure the antiques were loaded safely, meeting for a few hours the impressionists who would accompany him to Atlanta, exploring a certain vineyard and then bringing forward the day he had booked on the boat.
So that he can be back with Scarlett in the blink of an eye. Whether she likes it or not.
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Notes on Chapter 60 :
(*1) Old Abe Wisconsin's War Eagle: source Wiscontin Veterans Museum - /old-abe-the-war-eagle/
(*2) As with the previous three chapters, the items, markings and configuration of the halls correspond to what existed at the Centennial exhibition. I have, of course, used my own words to describe them, adding imaginary details so as not to copy a pre-existing text. I relied on an 800-page PDF document written during the Centennial in 1876, with a pavilion-by-pavilion description of the products and machines: "The Centennial Exposition, described and illustrated: being a concise and graphic description of this grand enterprise commemorative of the first centennial of American independence. Illustrated and prepared by Ingram. Published by Hubbard Bros, Philadelphia, Pa, 1876." .
(*3) You can admire the photographs of the Centennial taken by the Centennial Cabinet, including most of what is described in this chapter, on my blog. They come from the 1,600 'stereotypes' on the Free Library of Philadelphia website, digital/collection/home/page/81/id/centennial-exhibition .
(*4) Vins de Bordeaux - classification of Gironde wines drawn up in 1855, which includes 16 of the 57 vineyards located in Pauillac. Source Official classification of Bordeaux wines in 1855, wikipedia Official classification of Bordeaux wines in 1855 wiki/Classification_officielle_des_vins_de_Bordeaux_de_1855
(*5) Brazilian café: it wasn't set up opposite the agriculture hall, but in another part of the park. For the sake of the story, I've placed it next door.
(*6) The meeting between the Emperor of Brazil Dom Pedro and the Egyptologist Auguste Mariette: When the last emperor of Brazil went to Egypt discover/egypt-brazil-last-emperor-journey-exhibition
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