Memoirs of a Courtesan in Nineteenth-Century Paris (37 page)

However, not wanting to rely on myself, I consulted Victorine.

‘‘What do you think of him? Do you think he is handsome enough to make Lionel, who is so perfect, jealous?’’



Richard

‘ Certainly,’ she said, ‘ he looks fine.’

My dancer asked for permission to send me flowers. I did not categorically say no, which, coming from a woman, I believe, means yes.

During the conversation, talented Victorine found a way to reveal my address to my lover, who was now sure of his success.

Not too soon, in fact, because Victorine’s patience was wearing thin.

‘‘What a chore I have taken on for you, my dear! I am bored to death here; I know no one, and I cannot say evil things about people I do not know.’

‘ Do you want to leave?’’

‘‘Oh, yes!’’ she said.

As we were picking up our coats from the cloakroom, many people were coming in.

‘ Oh,’ said Victorine, ‘‘we are leaving as the best is arriving. Look at those two hairdos: a vegetable garden and an ostrich!’’

‘‘But look at these on the other hand, look how lovely they are!’’

Mesdames Doche and Plumket were coming in wearing crowns of daisies and charming outfits. Ozy was following them.

‘‘Yes, but a crown does not make up for a nose.’

‘ Oh! You are not saying this for Madame Doche.’

‘ Oh! I have been seeing her for twenty-five years.’

Once back home, I began to think about Berry where at first I had been so happy, then so sad later on. ‘‘I certainly prefer that memory to the fake pleasures I just saw!’’ I was telling myself. At noon I received a gorgeous bouquet of Parma violets surrounded by white camellias and a card attached to it. It was from my young man of the night before who was asking for permission to pay me a visit at four o’clock. The reply was yes.

Lionel arrived at two. He walked up to the table, read the card, and said, ‘‘Do you know this gentleman? He is the son of a stockbroker. He is very nice, but they say he is dumb, not your type.’

A carriage stopped at the door. He took my bouquet, opened the window, and, very casually, let it fall, as if by accident, right on the head of the person coming out of the carriage, who was none other than the young man who had sent it to me. He did not bother picking it up; he got back in his carriage and left.

I was delighted. Lionel still loved me since he was jealous. That night he was the one going to a ball. I gloomily watched him get ready. Among the social set attending this ball, there must be many seductive, young, rich, beautiful, and upstanding individuals!



Richard

I waited up for him. At the sound of each carriage passing by, I would go to the window. When he returned, he scolded me for waiting up so late.

   

   

The maid I had hired had said she was married to a coachman. One day when she was fitting me for a blouse, I noticed her thick waist. I asked her, ‘ Caroline, are you pregnant?’’

‘ No, madame.’

I did not bring up the subject again. She was a good, frugal worker, and I was quite pleased with her.

There was something mysterious in all of Lionel’s comings and go-ings. He was writing and receiving a lot of letters that he concealed from me. I was determined to learn his secrets. While he was having lunch, I took and hid the key to his desk, and once I was alone at his apartment, I opened the desk and found letters from a relative. They all mentioned me in dreadful terms:

Are you finally done with this woman? . . . I hope you are not seeing her anymore. . . . Think of your future. . . . Mademoiselle de B

wishes

nothing more than to marry you, only she wants to make absolutely sure that you no longer have unfortunate liaisons.

In a drawer I found an unfinished letter in Lionel’s handwriting. It was most probably addressed to one of the relatives of Mademoiselle de B

:

My dear friend,

In asking for the hand of Mademoiselle de B

, I know what I am

committing myself to, and I am too forthright a man not to fulfill my duty.

As for Mogador, it is possible that I was seen speaking to her in the street.

The poor girl has not done me any harm, and I do not know why I would pass by her without looking at her.

Dear friend, you know what the life of a bachelor is like. One must find distractions. I found this one. What do you want me to do? One does not drown the girls one has lived with. As soon as I am married, I shall leave with my wife. Do what you can to get Mademoiselle de B

to decide.

The letter stopped there. My heavy heart dissolved into tears; then hatred for the world took hold of it. What had I done to all these people?

Why were they all scheming to take my Lionel away from me?

I put the letters back, locked the desk, and left. When I was back home, the concierge gave me my key.



Richard

‘ Caroline is out?’’

‘‘Yes, madame, she went to the hospital at Faubourg Saint-Honoré to give birth.’

‘‘What! So she was pregnant?’’

‘ Did madame not notice?’

‘ Get me a carriage, I am going to see her.’

On the way I tried to figure out what I would do. Write Lionel? It was better to wait until he announced his plans to me.

I found Caroline.

‘Are you mad to run away from me like that? Why did you not tell me about your condition; you are married?’’ Since she was blushing, I continued, ‘And even if you were not, I am too much in need of tolerance myself not to have any for others.’

‘‘How wonderful! Then madame will take me back when I leave the hospital?’’

‘‘But of course.’

‘ Oh! How kind you are madame! And if I could ask you. . . .’

‘‘What? Go ahead and ask.’

‘ To be my child’s godmother?’

‘ I gladly accept.’

When I left I went to see Victorine.

‘ Oh,’ she said, ‘‘I get a visit; so the love affair is still not going well?’’

‘ Tomorrow it will be all over. I shall never see his château again; all the needlework I did will be destroyed. He will send me the money for my furniture; he will be free to offer it to another woman. The windows will be opened wide so that the impure breath I left there will fly out. So, that is how it has to be! There is a ball at the Jardin d’Hiver tomorrow, will you go with me?’’

‘‘My dear, anything you wish but that. Balls bore me to tears. My little fortune does not allow me to conform to the extravagance of today’s foolish women. Believe me, you should spend less on baubles and not go to balls so often.’

‘‘Do you think I am going to this one for fun? No, I need distraction so I can forget him. I need to be talked about, to be loved, to have money spent on me. Come with me tomorrow; it will be the last time.’

‘ On that condition, I am willing to. I shall come by for you, and try to have it all over by then.’

That evening, I went to Lionel’s for dinner. His butler was getting his clothes ready.

‘‘You are going out tonight, Lionel?’’



Richard

‘‘Yes, I am going out in society.’

Not a word was said between us the whole evening. When his carriage left, I began to write a long letter, which I burned. It would be better to tell him all this. . . . I had never had so little courage. I could picture him at the ball, near the person he was going to marry, smiling at her, telling her, ‘‘I love you!’’

A carriage stopped. It was he!

‘ Why are you not in bed?’

‘ I am sick. I have a fever, . . . but what I have, I can relieve it by telling you about it. . . . Mademoiselle de B

has finally said yes?’’

He turned pale but did not reply.

‘ Go ahead and tell me you love her! Why put on this twisted act with me? Am I not worth the trouble?’’

‘‘My poor Céleste, I do not know who is feeding your imagination like this. You are not being reasonable. I am yielding to the wishes of my relatives who resolutely want me to be settled. I had not brought up these new plans because they could not work out and I was delaying the thought of causing you sorrow uselessly.’

‘ Oh! If only one could drown the girls one has lived with, things would be easier!’’

‘ You dared read letters that you were not supposed to look at. . . . Too often you forget who you are, Céleste. Do not make me regret what I have done for you. In the future, keep in mind that letters not addressed to you are sacred. Your furnishings are at my house, and if I marry, I shall pay you for them. I shall give you twenty thousand francs. We shall never see each other again, but I shall remember you fondly.’

  

To talk about tears so often is tiresome. . . . I was still crying at noon when a package arrived containing the few objects I had left at Lionel’s apartment. A two-line letter accompanied it: As soon as I shall receive some money, I shall send you some. From afar, as well as near, I shall watch over you.

Lionel

That evening when Victorine came for me, I was not ready. She was the one who dragged me to the ball after mechanically dressing me. I was wearing a white lace dress and a crown of pomegranates. The evening was even more festive than the first time. When I was dancing, my vis-à-vis was my fake sister. . . . When I say dancing, I mean standing,



Richard

looking at each other because there were so many people we could not move. Victorine was in a very good mood.

By two o’clock the crowd had thinned a little. The dark cloud of sadness that was weighing on my heart had begun to evaporate, and I did not miss a single waltz, polka, or mazurka. There were many actors there. Hyacinthe was making enough noise for four.2 People were assembled around him, and he was showing off, at no charge, his long nose and his large hands. He was exhibiting his own witticisms, which were just as good as what the playwrights usually had him recite.

His producer had not thought about these performances, otherwise he would have banned them in the contract. Everyone surrounded him and jostled to get closer. He was cheerful and was having as much fun as a child pursuing a forty-year-old woman who was alone and dressed in the most grotesque fashion. He was following her, calling her Elvire, and saying, ‘‘Dance with me, madame, I love you. Do not be cruel or I shall stab you with my nose.’

Grassot, who is always the same, was just as silly and amusing. He would twirl around the women, but stop by the prettiest ones, take them by the arm and, although he did not know them, address them in the familiar form.3

A quadrille was about to start when I heard my name called out loud.

‘ Here is Mogador! How beautiful she is!’

‘‘You think so?’’ said another voice. ‘‘I do not understand why people find this woman beautiful.’

I turned slightly to see who was typing me this way. It was a very handsome boy.

‘‘Well anyway,’ said the first man to have spoken, ‘‘it does not prevent her from having beautiful arms, a lovely waist, a nice shape, being tall, having beautiful hair, lovely eyes, and teeth as white as a young dog’s.’

‘‘Possibly; I did not look at her,’ said my critic.

I wanted him to look at me, but to no avail; he was not paying any attention to me. He seemed too occupied with a woman who was not at all pretty.

I was vexed and was about to walk away when the shorter one, who was his cousin, stopped me.

‘‘Mademoiselle, you are an exquisite dancer, and, if I were not such a bad dancer, I would invite you to dance.’

‘ Oh! But I accept with pleasure.’

I was hoping that his friend would follow him, but not at all. During the quadrille, I told him, ‘‘I certainly owed you something for the way



Richard

you came to my defense. This gentleman over there does not care much for me.’

‘ Oh! You heard? He is tactless! He must apologize.’

I wanted to hold him back, but he took off.

By the looks of the pantomime going on, I could tell that the other one was defending himself. But the short one was stubborn and brought him to me.

He was a twenty-two- to twenty-four-year-old young man, tall, slightly heavy, but well built. His blond hair and sideburns framed his face. His complexion was a dull white. His thin mustache emphasized his mouth. His forehead was charming and his eyes were the softest in the world. He was distinguished and elegant, and he had the feet and hands of a Creole.

Victorine, who had not seen nor heard anything, nudged my arm and said, ‘‘Look at this handsome young boy!’’

‘‘Yes, he is my foe.’

‘ Oh! Too bad! He would have made your Lionel wildly jealous.’

He was standing near us and seemed quite embarrassed.

‘‘My goodness, monsieur, do you find me so unattractive that you lost the use of words?’’

‘ Oh! Not at all, mademoiselle. If I spoke of you in these terms, it was because I had not looked at you, and I sincerely ask your forgiveness.’

‘‘Watch out, monsieur, you are sitting on my dress; it is made of lace.’

‘ Oh! Excuse me! I am clumsy.’

‘‘I overheard your opinion of me; you would not have expressed it had you thought I was listening.’

‘‘I want to convince you that my remorse equals my crime. I have had too unfortunate a beginning with you to be very ambitious, but I would be very happy if I could become your friend.’

‘ No, monsieur, no. I would drop even lower in your opinion of me.

Character is even more important than physical appearance. . . . Adieu, I am going to dance.’

He remained pensive.

     

A half hour later his cousin asked me, ‘‘What did you do to Richard?

Now he is mad about you. He claims that you have mesmerized him and says he must see you again.’

‘ Oh, really! He must think I was really wounded by his opinion of me to go through so much trouble. Reassure him I have forgotten it.’



Richard

In the meantime, Richard was talking to Victorine. It was time to leave. He asked my permission to take me home. I thanked him but refused, and we left alone.