Petite Lotte (Traduction en Anglais Du Roman de Simone Bodève)

Simone Bodve
PETITE LOTTE
A 19C Parisian flower-maker

Simone Bodve : Petite Lotte / 2
Petite Lotte by Simone Bodve

Copyright English translation 2016 by
Dominique Hoffman
All rights reserved. This book or any portion

thereof may not be reproduced or used in any
manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the publisher except for
the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Printed in the United Kingdom
First edition, 2016
La Petite Lotte by Simone Bodve
Originally published in 1907 by Bonvallot-

Jouve and republished in 1912 by Ollendorff
Paris. Nominated by the Prix Goncourt in
1907.
Translated into English by Dominique

Hoffman
Simone Bodve (Paris 1876-1921)

chapter 01
Charles Bugeot and Lise Valbour married for love.

Orphaned at a young age, Charles had come to Paris
and tried his hand at all sorts of trades; he was
industrious, enterprising and competent. At the age
of twenty, he was a salesman in a big fashion store,
where Lise, a small, delicate, pale flower-maker
made purchases for her employer.
The innocent grace of her sixteen years had beguiled

him, the ineffable charm of youth: awe and
cheerfulness; the first moments of amazement and
hope. What he liked best about Lise, he could not
say: was it her beautiful, bright eyes, or her
somewhat headstrong forehead under her dark hair,
or her sweet mouth which rarely smiled - and when
it did, dimples appeared in Lises cheeks. Charles
loved her. And since he did not belong to those
people who did not act on their wishes, he decided
right after he made his discovery, to ask Lise's
parents for her hand of their daughter.
The Valbour family lived in a modest flat, in Avenue

du Maine, behind the Montparnasse train station.

Lise was the youngest of seven children - four boys
and three girls. She was the last one still living at
home. She rarely saw her father. He was a stablehand
at the Omnibus company, who often only returned
home at night; he was still asleep in the morning
when she went to work; and in the evening he had
left before she arrived. The mother suffered from
early stage glaucoma. Throughout the day, she did
housework, dragging herself painfully from one task
to another, and she also fostered the infants,
entrusted to her by her married working daughters.
Charles was disappointed in the way they received

his request. This happened on a Sunday afternoon in
Winter. He was invited into the dining room, a large,
tiled, cold room with few furniture: a walnut
cupboard, a round table, some chairs, Lise's
collapsible bed. The father listened while smoking
his pipe; the mother took off her spectacles, wiped
them clean, and put them on again. Lise was sitting
by the window, eagerly mending socks. To tell the
truth - she had only ever reciprocated her friend's
advances with a shy 'yes'. But Charles did not need
more to build his castles in the sky; He talked and
talked, increasingly disconcerted, looking at Lises
brown hair, he hoped that she would face him and
encourage him with a smile. In the silence of the
room, he felt that his words sounded startlingly loud.
The old folks were pondering. They felt quite

intimidated by this tall, well-dressed man, articulate

and so full of life, who took a notion to propose to
their youngest. They did not quite trust him. The
father remained silent, the mother coughed a little,
adjusted her spectacles and with a trembling voice
she explained that Lise was still very delicate and
weak. She had always needed much care - only now
had she started to recover; moreover, Charles still
needed to serve in the army. After his return, they
could talk about the proposal again.
Then Lise stood up; Charles saw that she had been
crying. She held out her hand towards him.
"I'll wait," she said softly.
And the mother said as she was escorting

Charles outside:
"Think about it, Monsieur Bugeot, think about it.
We're very poor. "
They waited five years. A long time. Charles only

saw Lise twice or three times a year. Only at the end
of that period, he was allowed to take her out. He
behaved impeccably and wrote long and passionate
letters to her. She did not understand them well,
because she only replied with a few cold, timid,
clumsily written lines. He did not mind. She did not
know better. Besides, he saw himself as her
protector.
In March 1880 they were married at the Saint

Pierre's Church in Montrouge. Lise as pale as her
wedding dress almost fainted. She admired her
husband. She did not dare looking at him.
Unconsciously, she was proud when she saw her
work colleagues; surely they envied her. She herself
could not help being slightly amazed that Charles
had chosen her. She felt her heart bursting, it was
overflowing with love and boundless gratitude. She
remembered so well the first time he came to visit
her! He wanted to sell ten times more flowers and
Miss Lise would customize them with her pretty
hands. And they would hire more workers and she
would be their supervisor! Did he not even speak of
making a fortune? And Lise was happy that, together
with the modest furniture, gifted to her by her
brothers and sisters, she could also bring the sum of
five hundred francs could into the marriage. For
many years she had saved, often working at night
and on Sundays.
From the beginning, their business performed

brilliantly. Every evening, Charles returned home
with new orders, after selling all his samples. Now
he hoped that his wife would hire a worker. In her
wise cautious mind, she declined. She said the same
thing she heard from her mother when father or one
of the brothers occasionally brought home a little
more money than usual:
"We are far too happy - what is going to happen to

us? "
Charles had dreamed of a nice, cosy flat, of a clean

and cheerful home. When he came home at noon, he
found everything still in disarray. Often, he brought
fresh flowers hoping that Lise would place them on
the table, on a white tablecloth in front of their
cutlery, as they were eating side by side. Instead,
they had to eat their cold cuts at one corner of the
worktable with pots of glue next to them. Lise,
unkempt, unwashed, soon resumed her work.
In the evening the same thing happened. After

supper, Charles picked up a book and read by the
light of the lamp, while Lise was still working. He
would have enjoyed reading aloud to her, explaining
things to her. Lise did not like books. One of her
brothers had been a bookworm - then he enrolled in
the Foreign Legion. The books had turned his head.
Sometimes Charles sat down next to her. He liked
wrapping one of her curls around his fingers. He
tried to kiss her. She resisted and said:
"Go - go to sleep. I need to get ready."
He went into the bedroom, lay down sullenly in the

barely made bed. Lise joined him late at night, often
at dawn.
At first, he did not blame her. Indeed, he was

convinced that she only did this in order to secure
their future, their prosperity. Deep inside, he
probably thought that she overdid self-sacrifice. He
tried to explain it to her as gently as possible. He too
liked working diligently, but he also enjoyed
cheerful leisure activities. In his imagination, he saw
himself taking her to vaudeville shows, to see
something funny. Then they would have a good
laugh, she would remember the tunes and sing to him
on a Sunday morning, while he would help her with
the housework so that they could get ready for a
stroll more quickly. In the Summer, Charles liked
going out on trips to the countryside, taking a boat
trip on the river Marne, then having Sunday roast at
a random tavern. He could picture people
envying his pretty young wife by his side. She would
wear a bright dress, and handcrafted flowers would
nod from her hat.
Lise did not like vaudeville. Indeed, it cost a lot of

money, often they said ugly things there. The water
startled her, the sun blinded her; she dreaded the dust
of the pathway and the attention of the passers-by.
She only wanted to wear black clothes. In vain did
Charles plead with her to brighten up her dress with
a lace ruff; Lise also said that a decent, married
woman should not wear flower on her hat and that
she preferred to stay at home and work.
Before he met Lise, Charles had loved many women.

Many were pretty, cheerful and light-hearted girls;
they had fallen for him, seduced by his appearance,
his audacity, his dark eyes, which could look cold
but usually they were very gentle. Lise's
benevolence was perhaps the reason why he summed
up the passion for the aloof young woman. It is in the
nature of bold natures to seek challenges. He was
totally dedicated to his wife, but he also started to
feel unspeakable disgust towards her, and nothing
could dim those feelings. Charles was also beginning
to lose his temper in her presence. When she
surrendered to his caresses, she only did so as it was
a heavy duty. It was impossible to get her
emotionally involved as she struggled against every
sensation as it were a crime. If Charles had not been
so full of himself, perhaps with a lot of patience and
tenderness, he would have swayed her. But he did
not understand that. He made fun of her. He said he
had not married a woman but a linen bag, and
therefore he only succeeded in increasing her
feelings of indignation.
In the cramped Valbour flat, boys and girls slept in

the same room. Therefore, the mother found it
necessary to increase the girls' prudishness. Herself,
came from a small village in the Lorraine where, as
in many other places, hygiene is banned due to
prudishness. These precautions did not prevent
Louis, the youngest brother, the one who then
emigrated to Africa, from approaching the small Lise
who was fourteen at the time, one evening. So, Lise

knew that men were inclined to lust, just like her
mother told her. This also explains the influence
exerted by depraved women on them therefore she
thought it was the duty of a decent woman not to
encourage sensuality.
Nevertheless, Lise thought that she loved Charles

with all her heart. Deep inside her, and with full
sincerity, she had vowed to work for his happiness,
and this meant his prosperity. She found his gifts of
fresh flowers touching. But she also felt sorry for the
wasted money. She understood very well that, after
a whole day on business, he needed some
distractions. She even asked him to go to the
Saturday evening variety show. She understood his
needs to see his friends; he was so funny, so clever.
She advised him to go to the caf from time to time
and meet his friends. She told herself that he loved
exercising, and therefore needed country air. As he
liked rowing in a boat, she encouraged him to go out
on Sundays to Joinville. She was able to work
quietly. When he left in his Sunday clothes, she
admired him, she was happy to see him looking so
handsome.
He objected. She did not understand why. She did

not understand his irritation nor why he often left
without saying goodbye. What had she done to hurt
him so? At last, after many disputes he reached an
agreement with her: she would prepare proper
lunches and kept the rooms tidy. From then on, she
stayed up a little longer - that was all. She could not
be dissuaded from working the night shifts. That was
her personal, sacred task. She alone felt responsible
for their financial prosperity.
Gradually Charles habits became worse, he always

returned home late. In the morning, he struggled
getting up. As a bachelor, when he used to be alone
in his room, he spent many an evening reading. Now,
when he stayed at home, he did not feel like doing
anything. He was bored. Lise had lost all her charms.
Her beautiful hair which she didn't groom looked
dull. There were no more dimples in her yellowish
and sunken cheeks and there was no gentle
shimmering in her pale eyes. When she expected a
child, she became ill. But she did not want to rest,
nor take care of herself because her mother said she
only stopped working when the child was due.
Charles felt that his dreams were getting
shipwrecked and he felt tremendous disgust
toward everything. A weariness overcame him, his
anger became violent. He lost his temper over
nothing, he slammed the doors and accused his wife
of bad taste if a customer did not like a sample.
" Look at this! Just like you! " he said.

Lise wept over this injustice. Her mother said:

"Men are moody. This will be over soon. Be
patient.
Then Charles came home drunk. In the morning he

was unable to get up early, so now Lise needed to
visit the customers herself. A boy who carried the
sample boxes followed her. The well-managed
business seemed to work on its own. During the
twenty years that followed the war of 1870, the
artificial flower trade boomed. Orders came in from
everywhere. When Lise could no longer meet the
demand on her own, she took on a female worker.
She was surprised and sorely offended when she
noticed Charles's look of surprise. Did he doubt her
work ethic?
On due dates, Charles collected the payments. Soon

he began to keep a good portion of the money for
himself. Lise was deeply hurt. In order to protect her
goal, that goal, her only raison d'tre, she found the
courage to rebel. Charles was affected, but not
stirred. At last, he thought he did understand: she
was a miser. So every evening, he went out to play
Manille and other card games. People also gossiped
that he was more than good friends with the senior
salesgirls at his clients shops. But Lise did not
believe any of that. He was a gambler - no doubt
about it. Yet, he stayed out whole nights without
coming home and once he disappeared for two or
three days. He showed up again after he had wasted
all the money. Back home, the suppliers needed to

be paid. Lise was outraged and poured her heart out
to her mother. As the daughter was weeping about
her misfortune, the poor old mother said:
"I knew it - he's not right for you. "
Lise thought how easily she might not have met

Charles. She was not even supposed to be a flower
maker. For a long time, her employer could not
decide between that trade or dressmaking. The
mother lifted her wrinkled hands, and let them
sink slowly on her knees:
" What can you do? This was your fate."
One night - now married for fifteen months- Charles,

returned home at about two oclock, and was greeted
by the midwife. He learnt that Lise had borne him a
daughter. Something like shame stirred inside him.
Repentance burned his heart. He kissed Lise softly,
in a way that he had not done for a long time.
"Did you see the child? " she asked. "The wet-nurse
is taking her away tomorrow. We want to
call her Charlotte."
chapter 02
The little girl was fostered in a village in the Morvan

province. Six months later, Lise received a letter
from the village doctor. He advised her to take the
child home as quickly as possible because the foster
family was starving her.
This happened at the end of the winter season. Many

orders were expected. As Charles carried on with the
same old messy life, Lise asked an aunt to look after
the home and supervise the female workers in her
absence. Now Bugeots employed five workers and
traveling salesman. Charles was too unreliable. He
became only involved in the overall management of
the business: accounting, visiting the transporters
when there were important orders. Most of all, he
became used to strolling about and this led to
idleness. He started all sorts of projects without
finishing them. Yet he expected others to be perfect.
When business was doing badly, he would blame
them yet, he would boast about his own
entrepreneurship when things were going well.
.
Lise took an evening train, she arrived at night; half

dead with cold and fear, she walked six kilometers
from the station. She paid the wet nurse without
further ado as she had no time to lose. Without
having rested, she travelled back the next morning.
She carried with her a little puny thing. This had
been ongoing cause for vexation of all kinds: it had
entered this world, covered with wounds and
without any strength to scream. Lise hardly dared to
touch it.
The parents decided to entrust the little girl to her

grandmother. The latter was blind, alone and bored.
Her other grandchildren were going to school. She
always stayed at home to keep company to her old
husband. The latter had now retired and, in the
winter, he was spending his days in the corner by the
kitchen oven, during the summer, he was sitting by
the window. Sometimes he also strolled to the
nearby park Montsouris.
'Petite Lotte', as she was called, became in the course

of four or five years a pretty brown-haired girl. She
had the same gray eyes as her mother and like Lise,
she was also a bit sickly and nervous, rather
obstinate and reluctant to talk in the presence of
people. However, she never stopped talking to
herself. At around the same time, the grandmother
died and Lise took the child home with her.
Nobody paid much attention to Lotte. They just

wanted her to make as little noise as possible, and
not to disturb anyone at work. If the mother came
across her, she shouted:
"You rascal, always running between my legs! "
Therefore, all day long, the little girl huddled

motionless in a corner of the dining room. She had
long conversations with her toy. About six clock in
the evening, Lotte was very hungry. so she sat down
quietly on her bench in the workshop. Silently she
looked at her mother and the workers. Again and
again, they twisted wires. Sometimes one of the
workers noticed her, raised her head and smiled at
her. The cutter pounded with hard strokes on the
lead plate.
Lotte reflected and wondered. She remembered an

old woman in a white cap who always took her on
her knees when she was crying (at the time, Lotte
was very young) and she rocked her gently. The old
woman also used her slowly run her finger over
Lotte's face and the little girl did not like that very
much.
"Go on, my child, I can't see you anymore,"
the grandmother said.
" But, gran, youre looking at me! "
There was also grandfather, and grandmother was

often very angry at him. That was because he stole
the sugar out of the box that stood on the cupboard.
Oh yes, grandfather! Lotte always needed to pass

quickly him when she held a piece of cake in her
hand. He was so greedy! - Now he was alone in a
large room, very, very high up and far away. On
Sundays, they visited him. On other days, they went
to grandmother's place. She had bought a little plot
in a large garden. It was called Montparnasse
Cemetery. Grandmother was never there when the
family came over. Lotte also could not understand
why grandmother planted only flowers and all sorts
of grasses instead of potatoes which Lotte liked so
much.
One day - it was before the time when grandmother

bought her garden - they brought a little girl into the
house. Her name was Gigi and she was Lotte's little
sister. She was plump and white, her hair was pale
blonde and she screamed terribly when mother
wanted to put on her blue shoes. Those shoes
actually belonged to Lotte. Now Gigi was living in
the country at Aunt Sophie's and she took the blue
shoes with her.
Not without bitterness, Lotte also thought about her

big doll Martha, who could close her eyes. She did
love her so much! Very early one morning, before
the workers arrived, Lotte sat down at the table,
opposite of the mother, who was already busy. Lotte
rocked the doll in the rocking cradle and sang the
song that her father had been singing. Often he
hummed it, when he came home late in the evening

and mother scolded him waking up the little girl.
" He's the sweetheart of A -A,

He fancies some sweets,
He is the sweetheart of A,
He is the sweetheart of Amanda!"
" Stop it - you 're killing me with your Amanda! " .
And mother threw Martha on the floor. When Lotte

picked the doll up, its head was broken. She cried
the whole morning and did not want to eat anything
at lunchtime. As a punishment, she was locked
inside a broom cupboard, which was already
inhabited by a mouse. The child was so frightened
that she became sick and she needed to stay in bed
for two days. Several days later, she still hated her
mother. Then, at breakfast as the mother sat opposite
her daughter, she began to cry. Heartbroken, Lotte
threw herself into her arms and sobbed too. The
mother dried her tears, and scolded a little:
"Silly girl, why are you crying? Is there

something wrong with you? Eat up, youll feel
better."
Mother was like that. She was very strange.

Sometimes but rarely, she gave a hug. When Lotte
wanted to give her a hug in return, mother said:
" No, leave me alone, I don't have time for this. "
And then, there was Father.
Father was not at home very often. This was

fortunate. Oh how angry he was; he slammed the
doors, banged his fists on the table, saying that
nothing was ever cooked properly. One evening, yes
really, he threw his full soup plate through the
window. Then he stayed for several days in a row at
home. He was no longer angry; he wanted Lotte to
roam free; he worked on the lead cutting plate on
which the patterns were designed and he joked with
the workers. After lunch, he let Lotte dance on his
knees. However, when - quite by chance - he looked
at her more closely, he put her back on the floor:
" For God's sake - look at the state of that kid! "
Mother replied:
"What clothes is she supposed to wear? "
Father and Mother argued very loudly, and smashed

everything on the table. For the second time, Lotte
was terrified. She wept. Mother gave her a slap.
Father grabbed her arm and threw her into the next
room.
Lucie Parent, the young apprentice, was Lotte's

friend. In the evening, after the workers had left, she
swept the floor of the workshop. While Lotte was
waiting for her dinner, which was always very late,
she complained to Lucie about her grievances. Lucie
hugged her:
"Kiddo, don't be so bitter, you'll make yourself sick,
you're so young. You'll see, there's plenty of
time. That's life. "
No one was allowed to enter the kitchen. Outside the

window, there was a roof and sparrows sat on it.
Lotte came nearer and sprinkled bread crumbs:
" Come here, little bird. Come here! "
But the little bird did not come. Because there was
Minou the tomcat, who was staring with his
sparkling green eyes. He followed Lotte
everywhere. What did he have against the little
birds? The arrival of Minou, the big, black Minou,
interrupted the little girl loneliness. He became her
favorite play companion. He liked jumping - she did
too - yet jumping was not allowed. Minou never
refused any hugs. And for him also, it was never
time for food when he was most hungry.
He sat in front of the child, half closed his eyelids,

yawned and looked at her:
"Meow. "
Lotte looked at the mother, then shyly, she said,

softly to the cat, so that none could hear her voice:
" Mother is working - Meow - hunger, hunger

lovely Minou. Come and sit on my knees, sweet
sweet Minou."
And so there was in her life, just like in the life of

adults, a past, a present, a future; things that were
gone, things happening now, cheerful, sad. (She did
not know why) anticipated things to wait for. (Why
again?)
When Lotte was six years old, she started school.

Mother and Father had argued about this. Lise used
to go to Convent School and she wanted to send her
daughter there as well because they taught proper
manners. Charles replied that nuns were stupid hens,
they were only good for looking after fowls. In the
end, Charles got his way because Lise vaguely
remembered that the nuns charged small businesses
for school supplies, books, copybooks, quills etc
while the municipal school did not charge any
money.
On Lottes very first day of school there was a big

event. Mother had gone out to buy a little brother,
she sprained her food and had to lie in bed. They had
to send the young brother with Gigi at Aunt Sophie's
in the countryside. That was the story they told Lotte
when she returned home at four o'clock with Lucie

Parent. Lotte was very sad. She had been looking
forward to meet the little brother, she could have
played with him.
Lotte's school was at the end of the long street.

Inside, at the rear there was the yard. On the left, a
staircase led to the classrooms. The caretaker lived
on the opposite side, he made sure that the little girls
never arrived late. On the right, a path led to the
meadow and from there into a small garden. There
were a few miserable sickly trees - sad and
trapped by walls and fences.
Lotte was in the first year, there were sixty pupils in

the class. Many did not know their ABC yet. But
Lotte already did. She had learned it with her father
in the evenings where he was at home. Father was
not very patient. When he felt that Lotte has
forgotten something, he frowned. But then at last
Lotte remembered it the answer. She was
particularly fond of geography. She could not read
well however, on her little map she followed all the
explanations that the teacher showed on the big wall
map. Once, during a break, Lotte hid in a corner with
her geography book. A teacher noticed her, she took
her book away and pushed her away towards the
other children.
"Go and play."

Lotte was not used to playing with other

children. Once, she fell over a broken tree fence,
and had a gash on her head. After that, she did no
longer play. Maybe the little girls were too rough,
perhaps there were too many of them, or maybe the
meadow and the garden were too small. The paved
part of the yard in front of the toilet was reserved for
the teachers. They did certainly not use the toilets. If
a pupil raised their hand during class, asking for
permission to go to the toilet, and the lesson was not
yet over, the teacher would punish them. During the
intermission, the teachers paced up and down with
small steps, - deities, the weaknesses of this small
world could not reach them. A world in which, in
order to assert oneself, one had to be among the
strong ones or be bullied; be a hypocrite or someone
who no longer need to be so, satisfied to follow the
path of the strong ones.
Lotte's teacher was a strict lady, dressed all in black,

bored and solemn, always ready to scold and punish,
and never satisfied. Nevertheless, Lotte loved her.
She did not dare to tell her so. Once the teacher
touched Lotte's hair in passing:
" Little lamb. "
Lotte used to be very good friends with Blanche

Frne who sat next to her at lunch. Blanche was nine
years old, a pretty little girl with magnificent blonde
hair. She wore a white collar over her school
uniform. Her mother was a fishmonger. At four

oclock, Lotte used to go home with Blanche and
Lucie. But then - soon afterwards- Blanche
abandoned her and became best friends with another
girl. With a heavy heart, Lotte complained to her.
Blanche explained:
"Let me tell you - you really look too shabby and
your maid is so terribly common. "
This is why Lotte had red eyes that day. But that pain
was over now - forever - as long as she lived, Lotte
would only love Lucie.
The caretaker had a fierce red cat. It sat on the

windowsill downstairs by the stairs; it scratched the
little girls if they walked too close. Lotte heard two
"older girls" talk to each other. One was
demonstrating to the other that this was a tomcat.
Petite Lotte wanted to see as well but she did not
have the courage to step forward.
"Lucie - tell me - is our gentle Minou a real

tomcat?"
Lucie laughed and laughed:

"You're so funny, kiddo. I could burst laughing.
Don't worry about Minou - here your tomcat , and
hes gentle just like you."
Sometimes, the mother allowed Lotte to go with

Lucie to the Theatre of Belleville on a Saturday
evening. The tickets cost fifty centimes each. People
needed to queue outside on the street in front of the
shops. What a crowd! Inside the theater people were
sitting close to each other. People ate sausages and
threw the scraps on the hats of the ladies sitting in
the auditorium below. Lucie and Lotte had to climb
very high to reach their cheap seats. This is how
Lotte saw 'Les Misrables'. The play was about a
man who writhed on the ground and screamed
loudly. Later, a clergyman gave him silver
candlesticks, to calm him down. But above all, there
was a little girl who climbed above the wall with a
rope.
"That's Cosette," Lucie said, "A little mouse just like

you."
Lotte would be so happy if she could climb with a

rope! Another time, they also saw 'Marie-Jeanne',
a story about a lady who lost her child and found it
again. Lucie was crying terribly when she told the
story to Lise on the following Monday: she said that
Marie-Jeanne was so ill. In the play, there was a
lake. Lotte pointed at it with her finger, and
demanded an explanation from Lucie who said:
" But that's the stage, silly. "

But how did all that water get on the stage? The
little girl was amazed.
On a Thursday, when there was no school, Lucie

took Lotte to the "Buttes-Chaumont" park to give
Mother a break. Buttes-Chaumont was a large
garden, much nicer than the Montparnasse
Cemetery. There was a waterfall and a small house
on a hill surrounded by a lake (just like in the Marie-
Jeanne story). The path was quite dirty all the way
because the little boys had peed on it. At the end of
it, there was a bridge.
"The Bridge of suicide or the Bridge of love," Lucie

said. " Can you understand that there are some silly
hens in this world?"
Lotte only saw swans and enjoyed throwing

breadcrumbs at them. Those happy red letter days,
they ought to be remembered with a white pebble.
The two holiday months passed slowly. Lucie had

left the household after an argument with Mother,
now Lotte has no other friend than Minou. She no
longer had her beloved geography book. She needed
to give it back to the school, and they gave her a
game of pick-up sticks, which she did not enjoy.
When she tired of it, she sat by the window, looked
at the packers in the yard. She took a pair of scissors,
and cut out paper ships and paper chicken when the
mother saw that, she screamed because Lotte could
hurt herself with those scissors and also because

there were paper shreds all over the floor. Most
often, the little girl sat at the table, resting her head
in her hand, half asleep just like Minou. The cat
curled his nose and he seems to enjoy its own wise
serenity. But how slowly did the hours pass, so
slowly so sadly! The child was truly relieved when
school started again.
In the first year she has made such good progress,

that she was allowed to go into the third year class.
Gigi, who was now nine years old and living at
home, started her first year. Gigi was still white and
plump, she had blonde hair and her father's dark
eyes. Everyone agreed: Gigi would become a pretty
girl. By contrast, Lotte became uglier. She was tall
for her age and too skinny, her short, dark curly hair
always fell into her face; with her large gray eyes
and her pale little face she looked like a fierce kitten.
And indeed this is what she became. The new
teacher said of her:
"A little lamb - but an angry one! "
Lotte was neither loud nor talkative, nor was she

really naughty. She merely kept herself to herself, as
she did not like her class-mates. Most of them were
wealthy traders daughters who made fun of her.
They mocked her strange poorly tailored clothes
made from Mother's old dresses. In particular, they
laughed at her black cotton bloomers; their hem was
longer than the underskirt by five centimetres. But
Lotte did not belong to those people who gave up

easily and everyone was surprised that despite her
delicate constitution, she could retaliate so fiercely.
Neither did she like her teachers. Such fine ladies,
faultless and aloof. It seemed to her that they lived
in a different world. In the evening, it was Lotte's
task to bring Gigi home. The girl, indifferent and
gentle, relied entirely on her older sister to do her
homework. Lotte wrote the essays and solved the
equations, Gigi, who quickly learned to write neatly,
copied those.
For a while now, Father had been staying at home.

Too much loafing had made him sick. Mother said
that Father expected "good behavior" and that he
wanted his daughters to be taught well. "
Ignorance," he kept saying," is the root of all evils."
He sat down in the dining room, and taught them
equations. It worked well with Lotte, but Gigi ...!
"Three divided by three equals how much?" Gigi
could never understand why the answer - whispered
to her by Lotte, even though Father rolled his eyes -
was 'one'. Father gave Lotte a slap, and he also
slapped Gigi. And he also hit Gigi with a ruler.
Mother walked by:
"Not on the head, you monster!"
Father and Mother started an argument about the

vile books, the vile lessons and that vile school - they
were the source of all misery in the world. Was this
the peaceful end of it all? No. Gigi started crying,
and could not stop. An abundant fountain hid behind

her beautiful eyes.
"Good Lord, what a stupid child! "Mother shouted.
And slap - slap - the blows rained all over Gigi. The
little girl fell tearfully to the ground - overwhelmed
by her own stupidity. Lotte helped her up and said:
" Come, let's cut out some chickens. "
They made dozens of paper chickens. Then they

played farmer, and fed the chicken: "Beep! Beep!
Beep!" Mother came back, and again it rained slaps,
this time the slaps were meant to keep the children
quiet.
Lotte and Gigi slept in the same bed in the alcove

next to the dining room. Their bed used to belong to
Grandfather. At the end of his life, Grandfather was
paralyzed and then he died in his big room. The bed
had a spring mattress. One evening, the mother had
barely left and put out the lights - the little girls rose
- they put the quilt in the middle of the bed. Then
they climbed on and let themselves fall. Thud! They
jumped up like a ball. This was so funny! But oh
Gigi! Her squeals of laughter were as loud as her
tearful cries. Of course, Mother heard them and once
again, it rained slaps.
"You rascals! When I was your age, my mother

bound my shirt around my legs - so I had to keep
still. So stop that if you don't want me to do the same

thing to you."
Mother had barely left the room - Lotte hopped

down the bed - quickly - on her bare feet, and went
to the pantry - in the drawer there was a ball of twine.
Lotte tied Gigi up. Gigi tied Lotte up. Soon the
mother was lured by new screams. Lotte had tied
Gigi too tightly. Gigi cried a bit afterwards then she
listened to Lotte who was telling her stories - about
the grandmother, whom the little sister never
knew. Then at last, the children fell asleep.
Lotte also started to understand the meaning of

injustice. Once the sisters had prunes for their
afternoon snack. Mother had nine prunes and
divided them between the girls. The children ate.
Afterwards, Lotte counted the stones. She had four,
Gigi had five, therefore she demanded her fifth
prune. Mother had no more prunes. Gigi started to
weep and in vain she offered Lotte her share of
tomorrow's afternoon snack. Nothing could change
Lotte's mind. Lotte wanted her fifth prune. The
mother was fed up and banished Lotte to the
staircase.
The child sat down on a step and remained there for

a long time. She was so exhausted that she could no
longer cry. The caretaker had already extinguished
the gaslights. Lotte fell asleep from the cold. Then,
she heard a heavy step and was startled. A man was
staggering up to her floor while singing with a

drunken voice. Lotte stood up trembling. It was
Father. He gave her a wet kiss on the cheek.
Father became increasingly angrier. Every evening

he returned home late and when he came home, he
screamed. Lotte was always afraid when he stopped
inside the dining room. One night he demanded that
Mother got up and made him supper.
On a Saturday Father went collecting payments from

the customers. He did not return home so mother
and daughters quickly drank a cup of chocolate and
coffee with milk, then Gigi was put to bed. Mother
went with Lotte to look for Father. Lise took her
daughter with her to gain some respect as she did not
want people to think that she was one of these bad
women. They found Charles in a wine tavern on
the Rue Saint-Apoline. He was playing cards with
his friends. At first he was friendly, he offered them
a drink. Lise did not want anything and Lotte fell
asleep with her head on the table. At about two or
three clock in the morning, the father decided to
leave the tavern. As soon as they were outside, the
father and the mother started to argue. They slapped
each other on the boulevard and Charles dragged
Lise by the hair for a few yards. The child jumped
on him, hit him with both fists and became very
agitated. The parents had to return home quickly,
and put Lotte to bed, they stayed at her bedside, then
they called a doctor as they suspected meningitis.
Their fears were assuaged but Charles stayed at

home for a fortnight to be sure.
A few weeks later, the school prizes were awarded.

Despite her "weak head ", Lotte was awarded the
first prize in mathematics. However, she did not dare
to come forward and claim it as she was ashamed of
her tatty dark clothes. Gigi, who sang in the choir,
made some mistakes, and had to step out, she was in
tears.
After the holidays, which were quite sad, Lotte

found a new best friend. The first since Lucie Parent.
Her name was Rachel, she was Jewish. Just like
Lotte, Rachel was badly dressed, and just like
Lotte, Rachel was said to be possessed by an evil
spirit. However, she was much gentler and more
placid than Lotte. She was also very short-sighted
and wore glasses. Lotte protected her, she read the
writings of the blackboard to her, if Rachel could not
read them herself, or if the teacher wiped it off too
quickly. Rachel's parents did not run any business.
Therefore, Lotte despised them a little. The father
was a heavy labourer, the mother is a charwoman.
"On Sunday and Thursdays, we often see Rachel on
the Boulevard playing with a bunch of kids," the
older children said in disgust. "Such people, poor as
they are, they always have lots of kids." In reality,
there were only three little sisters, aged five, seven
and eight years. Sometimes Lotte and Gigi played
with them "Hide and seek" or "Wolf, are you here?".
Lotte and Rachel were constantly punished for each

other. Then they put Rachel in another class. Once
Lotte was sent to the headmistress. A good woman,
always intent on reconciliation, she greeted the girl
with a smile:
"There you are again. Come here, behave yourself,
read something."
Another time she sent her out into the garden.

Punishment became a reward. Lotte loved the
headmistress who had lent her "The French
Revolution" by Louis Blanc. During the break, as
Lotte and Rachel were reading together, a teacher
saw them and wanted to separate them. Lotte folded
her arms across her chest:
"What gives you that right? Were free."
Another time, she sang the "Song of the Girondins "

on top of her voice.
Poor Rachel was not always properly groomed. The

teacher once told the father. He was a poor man, he
rarely picked her up from school. He replied:
" I 'll tell me wife. "
Everyone laughed, and one by one, every girl started

to tease Rachel :
"Me wife. Me wife. "
One called Rachel "the Prussian". This magical

word made the girl lose her calm. Rachel attacked

her offender, Lotte hurried to her aid. The fight
spread out when someone accused Lotte to
disregard international law. Lotte hurled everything,
including inkpots at them. One classmate's skirt and
the teacher's dress were stained. Lotte received a
letter for her parents. Father read it, ripped it up and
said:
"Be careful. Rachel is a Jew, she will use you."
This was Lotte's life. She was content However,

once she almost abandoned poor Rachel for an older
girl called Louise-Sarah Haag. Just like Blanche
Frne, Louise-Sarah Haag wore white collars, she
also wore patent leather shoes and a yellow leather
belt over her glossy black satin school-uniform. A
sky blue ribbon adorned her hat and a maidservant
took her to school and brought her back, carrying the
girl's satchel and respectfully walking a few steps
behind her. Louise-Sarah was Jewish, but she had a
Christian education, and she wished to be called
Louise not Sarah, which was her real name. Her
revolutionary demeanour impressed Lotte, and
made her boastful, trying to impress. School life
brings out people's faults.
Until then poverty had prevented Lotte from being

boastful. Then, without even knowing why, she
started tell that she too had a house in the
countryside, that she would leave school before the
end of the term, despite what the headteacher might
say. Someone told the teacher, when she demanded

an explanation, Lotte confirmed her statement. The
headteacher had a book presented to her, so that she
would not miss out on the awards for her essays.
Astonished and a little ashamed, Lotte accepted the
book. The days went by and Lotte did not leave
school. Then the headteacher held a long sermon
about lies and little girls who tell stories to get
awards that they, as you well know, did not earn.
Lotte was summoned to the headmistress's office
and she admitted her offense. However, the good
woman did not want to take the book off her. It was
enough for her to tell her little friend that she was
disappointed. The teacher, however, wanted the
punishment to be harsher so she sent for Lotte's
mother and told her what happened.
Lise still hated schools, teachers and books.

However, she was deeply hurt when they told her
that her older daughter's evil spirit was caused by
bad parenting. She did not quite know what to reply
and thought about an exemplary punishment for
Lotte such as the ones that the nuns invented and
they raised her properly: kneeling for an hour every
day for a month, wearing a sign with a shameful
inscription around the neck, when going out for a
walk. Charles was asked for his advice. He decided
to leave Lotte to her own self-loathing. It was a
terrible punishment. In the evening, after dinner, he
read the "Last Days of a Condemned Man" by Victor
Hugo to her. He was nursing a cold, which, as he
said, he caught when he drunkenly fell into the water

at the Tuileries. Every evening, Lotte stayed in the
dark in the dining room. They told Gigi to go outside
and play, but she did not know how not play alone.
So she sat down on a step on the opposite side of the
courtyard and sadly looked up to the window
towards Lotte.
Lotte was very bitter, she could not be blamed for

the offenses brought to her by her accusers. She had
never intended to steal a book. However, she felt
guilty of other offenses that her various judges had
not been able to explain to her. They could not
understand, because they had not researched
properly. Yes, she was guilty. She cried every time
someone hit Gigi. Occasionally she drank her milk
in the morning without sharing with Minou. When
she went out with Louise- Sarah Haag and met Lucie
Parent she did not gave her old friend a hug and a
kiss. Where was Lucie Parent now? Maybe she was
walking in the rain. Because it was raining, and
getting darker. Gigi at the bottom of the staircase,
looked like a small, immovable bundle of misery.
The rain was pouring. Gigi would certainly not come
upstairs on her own initiative. Mother needed to pick
her up and she would probably slap the little girl.
.
Lotte did not want to offend the headteacher. Nor
steal any book. But she let herself go, she forgot her
loved ones, and bad things happened and this was
her fault. Lotte wept and wept. Tears flowed down
her cheeks. They rolled down to the corner of her

mouth. The child caught them with her lips and
wondered why tears tasted so salty.
chapter 03
Bugeots became one of the most famous and

wealthiest among the small businesses of its kind.
Even in the slow season, it produced many small-
size flowers, and brought out many new designs
Every year. The whole world was aware that thanks
to the diligence of Madame Bugeot and the
intelligence of her husband. Indeed, everyone said
that Bugeot's had gone well since the start. Despite
Charles's excesses, they had been able to save about
twenty thousand francs.
Charles - always the enthusiast - became suddenly

passionate about the countryside. Despite Lise's
reluctance, they bought a plot of land in a village
called Maltourne near Neuilly sur Marne. During
the summer (Now he only visited the clients in the
Winter season), Charles kept busy with building-
work and did the masonry. In October, when it was
time for him to return to Paris, the house was ready.
It was a bungalow with four rooms and a kitchen, as
well as a veranda and a shady garden with some nice
pear trees and plum trees. It was ready to welcome
the family for the next summer, if Lise agreed. But
she refused. Charles was proud of his success. Not
without reason. It was his idea to use the annual
savings on customizing only one type of decorative

flowers. This would guarantee that they were always
available and this was a saving on half the
wages. Lise had reluctantly agreed to the scheme:
Fashion might not always require that particular
design. However, Lise was extraordinarily frugal,
she kept the books well-balanced and, knew how to
turn a profit out of anything, she merely had an
exaggerated and irrepressible fear of the unknown.
Even good results unsettled her. She was convinced
that evil would prevail. Her proof was that country
house, which she detested and where she left her
husband alone throughout the Summer. But he
enjoyed solitude and peace. Charles loved his house.
This had been one of his fondest dreams when he
was young. Often he used to write about that dream
in his long letters to Lise. If only they became rich
one day! He would surround his house with a green
lawn and trees that both of them had picked.
"Only as far as his shadow across the lawn,

Only as far he wants to see.
Happiness that cannot be touched with the hands,
Only remains a dream!
How remote that dream was!
Every Saturday, Charles felt a strong desire to see his

house again. He went there in all weathers. The
house was only sparsely furnished: a folding bed, a

table, a few chairs. Some plates and other equipment
for cooking breakfast and lunch if there was the
need. Charles had also brought all his books. But he
was not cut out for solitude. On Sunday mornings,
he was already bored so he went out and visited the
taverns on the waterfront, there he met his
neighbours. He went fishing with them, shouted,
argued, got drunk and only returned to Paris on a
Tuesday or a Wednesday. When Lise rebuked him
and told him that he was wasting money, he replied
that he had earned it. By the way, all this would not
happen, if she had followed her husband like a
dutiful woman. Lise suggested to bring a second
folding bed to Neuilly and advised her husband to
take Lotte with him. It seemed to her, that he was
increasingly fond of the girl especially as she had
become more lively and more intelligent. Charles
disliked Gigi because she was too stupid.
On a Saturday evening, Lotte hugged little Gigi, and

she drove away with her father. They walked from
Nogent-le-Perreux train-station to Maltourne. It
was quite a distance, but Lotte marched on at a good
pace. The wind stung her cheeks like needles; Lotte
enjoyed that. On Sunday morning, the father woke
her up early and together they went on long walks
events by the bank of the Marne river towards Ville-
Evrard, Noisy-le-Grand, Chelles or Noisiel.
Sometimes, father rented a rowing-boat. During

their trips, they talked about school and solved
mathematical equations. The child succeeded in all
of them. She enjoyed arithmetics.
They also quizzed each other about events from

French history and the Revolution. Lotte believed
she knew everything in the smallest details. Father
had registered her at the lending library and always
went to choose the books for her. This is how the girl
read - nay devoured - the 'History of the French
Revolution' by Claude Michelet, and similar works
by Edgar Quinet, and by Henry Martin. Lotte was
passionate about ancient history as well. If she had
been a man, she would have liked to be Leonidas or
that little boy who was torn apart by a fox and did
not feel any pain. She deeply admired Brutus, hated
Carthage, and dreamed to travel to the pyramids.
Father spoke about his time as a soldier. He praised
the courage of the young generals in the Republic,
above all he praised Bonaparte's genius.
"But he killed freedom,"Lotte said.
Father admitted that. But it did not matter. He was

still a great man. The little girl shook her head:
"It's him Charlotte Corday should have killed - only
- at the time he wasn't yet famous - so she didnt
know. "
"Oh, if only we knew everything", Father sighed.
After that conversation, they had lunch at the tavern

with Charles' neighbours. Lotte disliked that because
on several occasions, Father drank a lot with them
for hours. His face became red and puffy. He was
irritable, then emotional again. These constant
moods changes frightened the child, and made her
sad. However, on other occasions, Father gave in to
his girl's request and stopped his drinking
session. Lotte was taking her task seriously and she
offered to prepare his lunch at the house. On
Sundays, at five clock, they always made their way
back to the station to catch the seven o'clock train.
They ate dinner in Paris with mother and Gigi.
On one of those Sundays, Charles rented a boat for a

trip on the river. Lotte enjoyed rowing. Father sat in
front of her and looked at her. Lotte's face was all
rosy, her brown curls were flapping in the wind, her
pale eyes were laughing at him, between half-opened
lips the lips he could see her small, regular
teeth. Lotte was happy. She wanted to travel like
that all the way to the sea. Far, far away her boat
would go - as far as America. Father laughed:
" My poor child, the waves would devour you in no

time, you and your boat."
No, Lotte was totally confident - she would dodge

the waves sideways- and she knew how to do it, she
had read it in a book.
Charles thought about his own youth, about small,

pretty, gentle Lise. How much he had loved her!
"Oh Father - just look at those strange plants!"
Lotte wanted them. Father took the paddles from her,

with a couple of stokes, the boat reached the
grasses, and Charles caught them, the boat leaned,
there was no danger. Father scattered the grasses
over his little girl's head. Lotte laughed with all her
heart, her dimples showed on her face, she shook her
curls, rubbed them on Father's knees to dry them. A
kiss on her neck . Father had kissed her and now
he was weeping. Embarrassed, Lotte stopped the
game and remained still. Unsettled, she bit her lip, to
stop herself from crying. She held father's hand in
her little hands and gently stroked it, her eyes were
downcast. Father certainly had many faults - but -
mother was too argumentative. The boat glided
slowly in the maze created by the foliage, the water
seemed dead. On the right, a nearby plaster quarry
looked like a white spot. On the left, tall black trees
bleakly stretched their bare arms against the gloomy,
grey sky.
Charles thought about everything he had dreamed,

believed in, and hoped for. All that was so far behind
him, as if it had sunk into an abyss; whereas his life,
like the boat glided away taken by the flow of time.
Lise, petite Lise, beloved Lise. Why had he never
been happy with her? Why had she never been happy
with him? Perhaps, it was his fault. His fault?
Certainly not! Did he not from day one perform his
marital duty without forcing himself on her? Was it
not a great blessing for her to have met him, instead
of meeting some poor driver's stable-hand, a fate that
would otherwise had awaited her? Oh what a wife he
had, he chose such a stupid hen! How come he had
not been able to see this coming? No heart, no flesh
- money - nothing but money. Of course, she was a
good woman, more than one loafer could be envious
but she taught him how to hate work. It was true that
after he had strolled for several days and returned
home sick, she had nursed him. But he had never
heard any tender word from her. And yet - he
demanded nothing else and he would have given his
whole life for a caress. He sobbed. He was
convinced that he was the most dejected creature in
the world. A generous man, yet everything had failed
him. Shocked at what she saw, the child wrapped her
arms around his neck, and tried to comfort him:
" Father - I'm here - your little girl. I love you. "
" My little girl, beloved, sweet girl. Yes, you do.
You're so gentle, you find comforting words. You -.
You love me - you're hugging me. "
" Father - I love you dearly but please - let go of
me."
" Charlotte! "
His voice sounded strange. It was a threat and a
request at the same time. Lotte became fearful,
moved away. The man - bloodshot eyes - the face

dark-red - tried to pin her on the floor. She clung
desperately - to the edge of the boat - in fear for her
life. The boat was rocking between the grasses. she
called out with a whining voice:
" Father! Father! "
" Be quiet."
One last scream: "Father! " Then a sudden noise on

the water. The boat stranded ashore.
--------------------------------------------------------
Lotte suffered a concussion; for a few days the

family thought that she would not survive. She had
been delirious - sitting up - screaming - speaking of
a boat, of grasses, of a quarry, and crying with
heartbreaking voice:
" Father! Father! "
Lise could not understand what had happened. On

that Sunday evening, Charles had returned home in
a car with the unconscious little girl. He had wrapped
the feverish Lotte in his coat. Lise received him with
a rebuke:
"You useless scamp, I entrusted our daughter to you,
because you say that you love her, and look in what
state you bring her home! What's wrong with her?
pneumonia? What a stupid idea of you to go on the
water! This is going to cost us money!"
"Put your daughter to bed, Lise. It's for the best."

"Yes, indeed - Sir thinks it's for the best. Do I always
have to fix all his nonsense? Woe the day that I met
you! What good did it do to me, I had to work all
night long, every night!?! I kept watch so that you
could let off steam with your cards, your women -
Yes women -! dirty harlots more like! And your
country house -! what a bright idea that was! Now
we will have to throw money out of the window
again for the doctor. "
Lise, full of rage, undressed the girl and wept in pain

and anger. Upset yet worried because she could only
hear indistinct murmurs from the child's lips. Charles
left and slammed the door shut behind him; he did
not show up for the whole night. The next morning -
Lotte got worse - so Lise sent the first worker who
arrived to the doctor's. The latter arrived a few hours
later. These doctors! You could die - and they still
would not hurry up. He examined the little girl,
shook his head, asked Lise whether the child had
been frightened or had been shaken violently? Lise
was assuming that the child had fallen into the water
with the father. But she replied dryly:
"No!"
Was he not supposed to know his job ? Lise added :
"What's wrong with her? "

" I don't know - I'll be back soon -. For now, please
avoid any noise in her vicinity "
" Is that so? You're a doctor and you don't know?"
Dr. Lagorgne had been the local GP for twenty

years. He was employed by the flower-maker health
insurance company. Therefore, all his patients were
small businesses like the Bugeots. He only charged
three francs for each visit. A good man, with family
worries, he had limited confidence in his own field
of expertise. He wanted nothing but do his best, get
by year after year. He wanted to please everyone and
as he said - not kill anyone. He adjusted his glasses,
looked at the woman, smiled ironically and did no
seemed to take her outrage to heart. He requested ink
and pen to write his prescription. As promised, he
came back in the evening. His opinion that the child
experienced a shock was reinforced, although the
mother stubbornly denied it. Finally, he
diagnosed encephalitis. Lise thought:
"Nothing has changed since this morning. This is just

a ruse to make more visits. "
Lise put her work-table next to her daughter's bed.

She did not abandon her side, only leaving from time
to time to check on the workers. At night, she slept
next to her in an armchair. Charles had now been
gone for five days and did not show up during the
day. One evening, he staggered home drunk. He tried
to sneak through the dining room, his back on the
wall, as if he did not want to be seen. He never asked
about Lotte. This indifference outraged mother: Did

he not love his child? She took great pain to refrain
herself from screaming at him and telling what she
thought about his behaviour. One night, Lise said:
"You miserable wretch, I never would have thought

that you had so little heart. "
The husband, madness in his eyes, raised his hand to

strike her:
"Shut up, Its your fault that everything happened -

yours, yours - all alone is that clear? "
They started a loud argument. Lotte woke up. They

fell silent. The parents no longer spoke to each other
on the following nights. The fever subsided. Lotte
felt better. She asked about Gigi, who was staying at
Aunt Sophie's. She failed to grasp the reply that she
was given and fell back into her silence. Lise tried
in vain to raise her out of it. Hours passed. Lotte rose
up a little and said:
" Lucie, you know - Lucie Parent - I liked her. "
And then:
" Did Rachel win the first prize in drawing? - she
deserves it, you know. "
"Listen to me little girl, it is not yet the time for the
award ceremony. It's only March. You had to fall
sick during high season. "
Lotte said: "Ah!"
Then silence. She found out that it was the middle of

the high season. She did not show any affection for
her mother, who was almost killing himself while
nursing her. There were only thoughts for strangers.
Lise sighed: Truly, the girl was just like her father -
amiable on the outside, yet full of malice inside.
On a beautiful pre-Spring afternoon, as they were

alone again, Lotte asked for the window to be left
open. The window of the workshop was open too.
They could hear buzzing sounds, like a beehive.
Lotte said:
" Father"
Lise stood up, she leaned over the end of the bed.
She saw the little girl's emaciated face looking like a
wax mask, the beautiful hair cut short. There was a
slight wrinkle by the mouth- a strange expression of
fatigue. The eyes - rigid and hard - starred in front of
her. However, it seemed that they were looking
elsewhere. The child folded her little lean hands
across her chest. Gently, Lise spoke to her:
" Lolotte, do you remember the Sunday when you

went with Father to Neuilly? When you came back,
you were sick. What did you do? Tell me. "
"We took a boat and father wanted ... "
" Tell me - what did your father want? "
"He wanted..."
Lotte rose her arm, let it fall back down, then closed
her eyes. Her face was painfully distorted. She said
tonelessly:
"I can't."
Lise became pale. She found nothing to say. In order

to regain her confidence, she walked to the door - the
workers were talking too loudly:
"Let them be. ", Lotte said and turned her head to the
wall.
That night Charles and Lise had a terrible

confrontation. At first, Charles denied everything,
then finally he admitted his guilt. He accused himself
of being a scoundrel. Then, as Lise pelted him with
the worst swear words possible, Charles defended
himself: he did no harm. Then he became the
accuser: he held her indifference and her avarice
against her. He claimed she had taught her daughter
to be a tease. They beat each other.
The next morning, when Dr Lagorgne checked out

the condition of his patient, he was surprised and
scared. No explanation was needed. Looking at
Lise's red, swollen face was enough. However, he
advised her to take the child to the hospital. Lise's
self-esteem was deeply offended. She almost choked
with rage:
" I love my daughter, doctor, I'm looking after her."

" One more reason to have her admitted to
hospital."
Charlotte became delirious again. Gigi who had

come home, because her little brother got rubella,
threw herself on Lotte's bed, and cried:
" Lolo, Lolo, I'm here - I don't want you to die."
The weeping girl was slapped and sent to a corner.
At last, the doctor explained:
"I believe we have saved her life, but I implore you:

avoid all noises. Another relapse and if it does not
kill her, it will make her mentally handicapped for
the rest of her life."
Strangely, the more the patient became aware of her

surroundings, the less she wanted to see the doctor.
However, the hapless man was handling his patient
with the utmost gentleness. He sat down next to her,
gently took her hand, told her stories. All in vain.
Lotte turned her eyes away from him. It seemed that
she was suspicious of him. As soon as the doctor was
making a movement - the girl became defensive.
During another visit, he brought her a little printed
picture, and a big doll that could speak and wore a
velvet dress. Lotte looked at it for a long time then
she disregarded the gift. After each visit, the fever
seemed come back. The mother almost believed that

the doctor was doing this on purpose. She was not
moved by his kindness. She thought that he was
crazy to give a doll to girl aged eleven. How little he
had to toil for his money! Three francs for a
consultation that lasted for half an hour - he could
easily afford to make useless gifts. Why did he want
to continue his visits since, as he said so himself, the
little girl, was saved? Lise did not dare to ask him to
stop the visits but she gave hints through her
behaviour. She was almost grateful that the child
disliked the doctor. She contributed to make her
daughter's feelings stronger by making unpleasant
remarks about the doctor before the latter was
coming and after he was leaving. Often the doctor
could still hear them. She did not accompany him to
the door.
"I'll see myself out." he said.
Did he guess the mother's intentions? He cared for

his patient. He knew that there was a secret that he
needed to unlock. He always came back stayed calm,
used gentle words and gradually he gained the young
girls confidence. Lise thought, these people really
couldn't take a hint. Incidentally, she was determined
not to pay promptly.
Since the last argument, Charles had kept himself

busy at home, when he returned home for lunch (the
table was set in the workshop), he had not caused any
more scenes. Lise was starting to raise her hopes, and

then her sister Sophie wrote to her: in addition to the
rubella, the little boy became sick with bronchitis
and died. Charles needed to leave work and go to the
funeral. Due to this new fateful injustice,
Lise became consumed by hatred towards
everything. Had she not always done her duty? Why
was life hunting her? Others women that knew, those
lazy, profligate women they succeed. Look at
Madame Porcher, the wine merchant's wife in whose
tavern Charles played cards; she was a pretty person,
her husband was a good fellow, always eager to keep
the household in order, while she flirted with the
handsome Hector, the travel-salesman and business
partner of the Ledoux Company, even though Hector
was also married. Life!
One morning, Lotte took off her blanket. She noticed

that her skin on her whole body was red. Terrible
dread overtook her. But she did not call anyone and
pulled the blanket right up to her chin, and started to
ponder. Stories that the little girls had told at school,
came to her mind. She had never paid much attention
to what she considered to be malicious lies. In
particular, the older girls had once a conversation in
the school yard, they pitied Rachel's mother, saying
that she had so many children and every time her
abdomen needed to be opened. Sitting on the bench
nearby, the smaller girls heard this and poor Rachel
wept. Others replied that babies came out by
themselves. Charlotte thought that this was the more
likely theory, although she knew nothing. All she

wanted was to comfort Rachel who loved her mother
more than anyone else. Now she thought that the
older girls might have been right. She remembered
that one evening, one worker had talked about one of
her recently married colleague who had died of a
miscarriage:
"There's nothing more to say - she was too young!"
Lise became concerned, almost frozen with fright

when her daughter asks her with a toneless, calm
voice:
" Mother, am I going to die soon? "
Lise shrugged her shoulders, then replied harshly:

"Look here, don't be such a fool."
"Mother, it would be better."
"Stop being so bloody annoying! Be quiet. At your
age youve probably heard a lot of things. I still
remember all what I have heard in my class. And I
went to convent school! Your father only wanted to
scare you. you know that quite well. You're a big
girl, now. That's all. "
Many people are in the habit of talking mysteriously

or they cannot to open up about the facts of life. Does
the child want advice? They spin a silly story. Does
the child insist? They tell them to remain silent, and
accuse them of improper behaviour. The facts of life
do not change depending on the whims of prudish

adults. If they wrap themselves in silence, others will
provide answers. And young heads will burden
themselves with ugly assumptions. They only learn
that there is a vice that consists in doing forbidden
things, just because they are forbidden. Lise firmly
believed that she has never known the vice about
which they talked so much at school and in her
family. She had never spent long hours reflecting on
that. She never had any nervous breakdowns. After
the incident with her own brother, she did not suffer
from encephalitis. She was still fond of her brother
afterwards. That was because her mother had been
very stern. Lise had not been capable of educating
her own children. She wanted them to be happier
than herself. Now everything was turning against
her. The result was this enigmatic, provocative
daughter. When she was informed about of her little
brother, she showed no reaction (she had never seen
him). And now she was talking about of dying,
playing the victim and there was nothing wrong with
her at all!
Even worse, Lotte was confiding to the doctor. Lise

feared that the doctor would take advantage of that,
and continue his consultations and that the girl would
make useless confessions to him. Lotte was capable
of such a thing. Since her childhood, she has shown
a lack of restraint. Lise now agreed with her
husband: Charlotte's behaviour had always been
something quite provocative. Charles was not that
bad. Since the death of the infant boy, he was kind to

his wife, like in the early days of their marriage. But
now she valued his advances, and found a peculiar
pleasure in his caresses. How did that happen? It had
come at once upon her, and it was filling her with
shame. She was afraid of her daughter's eyes; it was
as if they could guess what was happening.
Sometimes, they rested on her like an anxious
question. Lise refrained from scolding and from
trying to shake the little girl, from asking her to give
up this comedy. Lise had unclear feelings about her
special affection for Charles and in the light of what
had happened, it might have been a horrible thing to
accept that the event itself had brought this about.
Without doubt, this was true. Both Charles and Lise
had endured a terrible shock - both of them have
been let down and in their shared torment, they had
become closer.
Debased, denied, misunderstood, repressed life is

always invincible and worthy of the highest level of
compassion. Lise cursed it and blamed it solely for
her misery. She was ready to curse the girl who
seemed to blame her for her downfall. Perhaps, life
was not to blame after all, but those vices, irresistible
desire to do what is prohibited. The weak submit to
it without resistance. Oppression endured for too
long, makes every natural instinct impossible.
Hence the unfortunate patient who cannot be
healed. At last, Dr Lagorgne allowed Charlotte to
get up a little every day. For this purpose, he
suggested the idea to the parents that they sent the

child to farmers, whom he knew. They lived in the
area of Chateaudun and would not charge much.
Charles consented, at the same time he announced
that he no longer intended to care for his daughter
and he would leave the final decision to the mother.
Lise thought that this was a waste of money. Yet, and
somehow relieved, she agreed.
chapter 04
At eight clock in the morning, Lotte travelled on

her own. She, too, had been quite happy to leave.
Gigi had flung her arms around her neck and was
weeping; Mother had hugged her. Lotte had
replied to their attention with scattered kisses. Her
face was blank; her mind was absent. She did no
longer care. Just one word had kept her thoughts
focusing: leaving. She no longer wanted to see
nor, nor hear any more of the life she was so
familiar with.
She got off at B., just like they told her. It was a
small railway station framed by wisteria. On the
platform, there was a young girl of twenty years
talking to a railway official. The girl was wearing
a brown skirt and a brown caraco jacket, her
jaundiced face was framed by the white hood
from her gilet and on top of the hood, she wore a
black bonnet with red and green ribbons. When
she saw Lotte, who was standing there
embarrassed, and ran toward her:
" My name is Henriette Pageol. "
They left together. Henriette fastened a board on

the two-wheeled carriage which was parking
outside in the square. They drove off. Lotte
wondered why the woman was wearing a bonnet
over the hood of her gilet. Henriette Pageol lived
with her father on the outskirts of the village. The
old man with the stoop made a deep impression
on Lotte. He raised his head and she saw his
wrinkled face under his long, dirty-gray hair up

and his flickering lifeless eyes. He greeted her.
His mouth was trembling, his hand was dry,
covered with wrinkles and cold to the touch.
Soon Lotte felt very comfortable in her new room.

She needed to walk through the granary, then
three steps down to access it. The window was
covered by a grille and she could see into the
garden and its rows of pear-trees as if she had
been buried in the forest. Over the dirt floor, as an
honour to the Parisian guest, they had put down a
small colourful woolen rug at the centre of the
room. Lotte liked it, it felt like a nave companion.
There was also a trunk to store her clothes, and to
be used as her dressing table. She also had a
wooden chair with a straw seat and needed to step
on it to climb onto the four-poster bed which had
a green glossy curtain. The other room in the
cottage was very spacious and furnished with two
beds and two trunks similar to Charlottes. There
was a small bench to sit down and a large
fireplace. This room was subterranean too and the
entrance was through a half-door. They left the
top of the door open to let the light in. Most of the
cottages in the village looked similar as the
Pageols: the thatched roof almost reached the
ground. The family explained that they were built
this way as a protection against the strong winds.
Lotte thought that the cottages were fearful. The
Pageols ate their meals off the trunks in the larger
room, the girl was not used to these ways and

preferred to keep her plate on her knees. Every
day, they prepared eggs and a pork chop for her
brought to them by the travelling butcher. The
Pageols themselves ate gruel, some bread with
cheese and lardons. Often, Henriette took the
plate off her father even it was half-full saying
that he ate enough. Lotte felt sad and offered to
share her chop with the old man but he refused.
A few days later, when Henriette was away, the

father advised Lotte not to pay any attention, his
daughter was not being rude, she was just bitter.
In fact, the young woman was ill: she had
abscesses on her neck and needed to visit the
doctor in Chateaudun. Now, she had another
abscess on the groin, and despite her fathers
pleading with her, she refused to see the doctor
for it.
The Pageols were poor despite owning some

small fields because the father could no longer
work. His son used to run the farm but then he met
a pretty, comely woman and now he worked as an
innkeeper in Belgium. The daughter-in-law was
nice, she used to invite the old man and Henriette
to come; she prepared meals for them and looked
after them however, Henriette did not want to stay
as she disliked her sister-in-law. Therefore, she
was tending to the fields at home, and if she was
too exhausted, she stayed at home and knitted
while lamenting paying for labourers. On one

occasion, Lotte explained that she also could eat
gruel and they would save on the butchers. Lise
would have been outraged at her daughters
generosity and her lack of appreciation. Gratitude
is not really a natural instinct, and kindness is
directed towards those who give or seem to give
selflessly. Henriette thanked Lotte but refused the
offer.
Lotte loved walking by the Loir. The river was

wide. The water was clear and flowed slowly, and
she could see the pebbles at the bottom. From
time to time, Henriette entrusted her with herding
two cows. Lotte did not feel confident, but she had
a long staff.
"You only need to remain in front and lead them."

Henriette had recommended. The child did not
dare to do as she was told and stayed behind. Just
as they arrived by the riverside, the naughty
animals stretched their necks out as if they tried
to inhale the smell from a field located on the
other side which belonged to the miller. Then they
all forded the river. It reached the top of their legs.
Lotte needed to run home, and get Henriette.
Henriette was angry, and scolded the animals as
if they were naughty little girls.
Up the river, there was a small bridge. On the

other side a long avenue unfolded, further away,
there was a white house. Its doors and shutters

were always closed. This was the castle. Lotte
enjoyed sitting down and looking at it for a while.
Then she ventured into the bushes. A green forest
path. A dazzling smell was emanating from the
pine-trees. Now and then, the sun divided the
forest into long strips of light. The path between
the trees becomes visible. In the distance,
suddenly, she could see bright clearings. Lotte
walked silently as if this was a temple. At times,
the grass bent and trembled beneath her feet and
a grass-snake fled rustling through the leaves.
Lotte was startled and stood still. Birds were
trilling brightly. A cuckoo sang its two
monotonous and melancholic syllables. She
replied cuckoo! The bird started calling again and
Lotte laughed quietly to herself. Then came a big,
round clearing. In the middle of it, a mighty oak-
tree rose with its twisted branches and its mighty
trunk. The little girl unbuttoned her cloak, spread
it across the ground. She sat there for hours.
Through the leaves she saw the sky. Every sound
seemed as if it was absorbed by cotton wool, as if
it feared to disturb the great peace that was
covering the earth. Lotte dreamed of the always
silent, always closed white house. Sleeping
Beauty's castle. On her way back, she met a
farmer. He greeted and passed by calmly quietly.
But after that Lotte no longer dared to walk up to
the mighty oak. Subsequently, she only ventured
a few steps on the forest path, then hesitated while
standing still with a beating heart, accusing

herself of cowardice for betraying her friend and
she ran away.
She felt that the village was crowded. There were

old people and women were standing on their
doorsteps; and children were playing. Everyone
was saying hello to her as she walked by. She
greeted them with a soft voice but did not strike
any conversation. She took refuge in the church.
This was just a small building and its porch was
protected by a wooden canopy. The bell-tower
had a slate spire. The door was always open.
Inside, moss was covering the flagstones and the
bottom of the walls. At the end of the nave, the
choir-place shone in splendour despite many
broken stained windows. On the left and on the
right of the altar there were two little chapels. In
one of them, there was a beautiful grey stone
statue of the Virgin Mary; the figure was smiling
and her outstretched hands seemed to welcome
every suffering soul. The other chapel was
painted blue with golden stars; there was a
decaying picture frame. It depicted a deer in
bushes similar to those Lotte had seen. The beast
stood on rigid feet and above its mighty antlers
there was a halo; it gazed proudly and severely at
a hunter wearing a crimson tunic kneeling in front
of him with praying hands. Lotte smiled to the
Virgin Mary, then she took a chair and positioned
it in front of the painting. The first artwork
represented the kindness that her suffering soul

needed so much. The other artwork represented
the justice that she wanted to believe in. A justice
that decided about the fate of the white house, and
was guiding Lucie Parent, Rachel, Gigi and
consoling the poor lost creatures. A justice that
inspired hunters to kneel in front of their victims.
Without any doubt, Mademoiselle Collon, her
teacher would have demonstrated that faith did
not move every heart. Mademoiselle Collons
faith was not true, her God was a false one.
Charlotte was also reminded that some texts by
Edgar Quinet and Jules Michelet, she read at
school also mentioned God. Sometimes, a
swallow interrupted her train of thoughts. On
another occasion, she fell asleep. She could not
find a proper prayer for her god. If she had known
the founders of the Church, she might have said:
O Lord! Give me your peace, a serene peace, a
peace not troubled by any regret.
Another evening, she returned to the cottage at

twilight. walking along a path bordered by
bracken and meandering through the fields. Here
and there tender bellflowers swayed between the
grasses. Lotte she picked some for the old man.
At the end of the path, she turned around, deeply
moved, looked back at the plain. The sun had not
set and was lingering behind the woods, it gilded
the crowns of the trees, and poured a strange light
over the fields. Yellow, raised clods turned into
dark red, while the ground, where oats and wheat

were growing, shone in a fine, tinted light. The
blue of the sky became green. The church was
swinging its spire against it. It was so bold and it
was so touching, but because it was so small.
Everybody was complaining about this valley.
Some were saying: the harvest is going to be
good, but it should have been better others
: the harvest is going to be poor . The sun did
not listen to any them, nor did it stop decorating
each field. No field was similar to the others and
they were all beautiful. Whether the sky was
clear, whether like big clouds gathered on the
horizon like black whimsical birds, by the hilltops
with snowy peaks or long strips of white clouds
fluff, lighter than the lightest tulle veil. O
beautiful plain of our country! How many know
how to toil in you, and fail to delight in you! Few
understand your beauty when the same sun, - joy
of the earth - glorifies the work of humans at the
end of the day. Nature's triumphant answer, one
and only, to the anxious hope, as expressed inside
the modest village church. Divine peace also
enjoyed by non-sentient things, without knowing
it, will we ever be able to pour your peace into
every human heart?
At the end of the month, Lise visited her daughter.

Lotte found out that the whole family was staying
in Neuilly for the Summer. Mother looked
cheerful, the little girl had never seen her like that.
Red roses on her hat and the hair falling onto her
forehead. Astonished, the child asked:
"You had your hair done?"
Mother blushed without answering. She had

brought a yellow leather belt, a gift from Father.
Lotte left it on the trunk, where the mother had
put it, without any words of thanks, she did not
touch it again. Now they needed to get ready for
a stroll into the village. Mother visited every
house, she chatted with everyone, she was
friendly. She wanted to take Charlotte home. But
when she found out how unsociable, proud and
reticent she still was, she believed that it was
better to leave her for a while.
And so the whole summer passed. Lotte had

become stronger, she got some colour on her
cheeks, she enjoyed talking to Father Pageol. She
went back to the big oak and did no longer seem
to fear the passers-by. She was able to find the
courage to take off her stockings, ford the river
and bring the cows home. Yes, she even played
with a small goat that the Pageols had bought and
the animal threw her on the ground as they were
running. Now, in the evening she only wanted to
eat gruel like everyone. She read aloud from the
Gospel of St.Luke which Henriette had found it in
one of the chests. Lotte comforted the poor sick
girl, as well as she could. Once Henriette
wondered why Lotte lingered for hours in church

and yet did not want to go to mass. Lotte said:
"Mass - is nothing but a show."
And she dwelved into a long explanation. Her

audience was not convinced.
Then Mother sent money for the journey home.

School was about to start again. Charlotte was
now almost grown-up, soon she would be
working for a living.
That morning, Henriette prepared the carriage.

Lotte's heart was heavy. She shook the father 's
hand. With her small package under her arm, she
waited by the front door for Henriette. The young
woman who gave her a red woolen petticoat and
the gospel as parting gifts. A strong wind blew
large dust clouds. The young girl and the child
hugged each other on the concourse. Long after
the train had left the station, Lotte was waving
from the train with her handkerchief.
Lotte found Gigi taller and much changed. Now

she has a lot of girlfriends and was playing with
them in the yard. She greeted the sister only
fleetingly, with a laughter without interrupting
her game. As this was the beginning of the season,
Mother had a lot of work as usual. Father only
came around at mealtimes. On the first day he
tried to hug Lotte. The girl became pale, and did

not reciprocate. The meals were an agony for her.
She was facing him and could not utter a
word. She always ate quickly so that she could
return to school. In the evening she usually sat
down in the corner with a book. Once Charles
tried to prevent her and mocked her:
" Cat's got your tongue? "
He achieved nothing. Enraged, he threatened to

slap her. Lotte raised her head, looked at him with
as much despair as contempt, and so he did not
dare to hit her. What did Charles feel in front of
his daughter? Unbearable shame and he wanted to
get rid of it, to ask for her forgiveness, to show
remorse. He never could not find any words to
express this. He realized the full implications of
his fateful action and that he had alienated his
child forever. Sometimes, he also tried to
convince himself - just like he had told Lise - that
he had done nothing reprehensible. He was
clumsy, well-meaning and rumbling. He loved his
daughter, but he could not read minds. He did not
realize that between them, no relationship was
possible, except hatred, and perhaps, forgetting.
He was guilty of having shaken a young, proud,
tender soul to the core, by responding to an
entirely natural emotional gesture with vileness.
He had disregarded her innocence, he taught her
to distrust herself. Now Lotte was watched
anxiously over every move, every word and

became increasingly aloof.
Charles was also annoyed about Lise. In the past,

she had ignored him, now she was unashamedly
all over him. He had won a victory over her. This
knowledge granted him unhealthy
satisfaction. He had tamed her, and now he
despised her for his heart was insatiable. Now
that she had become gentle, he neglected her after
he had tormented her for so long when she
resisted him. The unfortunate woman did not
understand that. Her prejudices prevented her
from complaining, they were a substitute for
dignity. But they also prevent her to admit to
herself that she was suffering more than anyone.
Charles had always been haughty. Now he was
unbearably arrogant. Nothing was right, if it did
not come from him. He had become stingy; what
was not meant for him, was always too expensive.
At the table he had his own cutlery and his own
glass and ate dishes that he had chosen and only
if the cooking was meeting his standards. He
often argued with Lise. When the arguments
started, Lotte sneaked away and read inside the
workshop. Once, Lise noticed her and unloaded
her wrath onto her:
"What a heartless girl you are. You don't care

about anything that I'm going through. "
Lise was blaming the books for twisting her

daughter's mind. In the evening, after dinner, she
wanted to teach Lotte the basics of her trade. Lotte
refused. Mother wanted to punish her by seizing
her satchel. But she had to give it back to her - the
school manuals were inside. Incidentally - when
Lotte did not read, she did not work either. She sat
silently, motionless, lost in thought. Neither
punishment nor reproach could stir her out of that;
her apathy was incomprehensible and confusing.
The mother was dismayed, then like one
remembers an evil spell, she remembered the
doctor's threat that her daughter could end up
mentally handicapped; Lise seriously considered
sending the child away to a convent.
At school they noticed that Lotte had changed a

lot. Rachel was not there anymore, no one knew
quite why; so they thought that Lotte's sadness
was due to Rachel's absence. Lotte was diligent in
class. She endured the banter from her classmates
without reciprocating. So in the end, they left her
alone. The teacher surprised her as she was
reading the Gospel during the break. She asked
her gently whether she was going to do her first
communion.
"No," replied Lotte, "That won't be necessary.".
For a while, the teacher tried to be friendly. She

only received brief, monosyllabic answers. When

tired of the struggle, the teacher left - stiffly,
regally, slowly - Lotte followed her with her eyes,
and muttered: Pharisee. Lotte was punished only
rarely. Nevertheless, the headmistress needed to
intervene during an unpleasant situation:
The teacher once found her chair stained with ink

and since she could not find the culprit, she
threatened to punish the whole class. Lotte stood
up:
"I did it."
But Georgette Blanc, the naughtiest and worst

student stood up and admitted her guilt. Lotte
confessed her lie, and was given a lecture. In the
same week she won the Cross of Honour, on the
following Monday, much to her astonishment, the
headteacher saw that Georgette was wearing the
Cross; Lotte had given it to her as a present.
Gigi was given a letter to hand over to her parents.

Lise, who was worried about her eldest daughter
behaviour, and had instructed the youngest to
report back to her about her sister. Gigi did not
look after Lotte; she was always surrounded by a
crowd of chattering little girls which distracted
from sad Lotte. On Thursday and Sunday
afternoons, everyone met on the Boulevard. Gigi
played; Lotte was sitting on the bench and
reading. Each of them received ten centimes for
their afternoon snack. Lotte saved the money so

from time to time, she could afford to write long
letters to Henriette Pageol and preach self-denial.
Four months after Lotte's had returned home, poor
Henriette died. Lotte wrote to the old man, who
was now living with his son. Very flattered, he
replied that she was granting his family so much
honor. After that, the child saved only to buy
books. In a second-hand bookshop, she was able
to acquire "Thoughts" by Blaise Pascal for about
fifty centimes.
When first summer days arrived, the family

travelled to the countryside every Saturday.
Charles wanted it that way, and Lise no longer
resisted. Lotte's melancholy became stronger. She
felt a violent aversion towards Neuilly, and
especially towards the Marne, she was frightened
when it became time to travel. Charles often
visited the tavern, he rowed the boat, came home
intoxicated with his drunken cronies and expected
those to be served, and be put up for the night. At
the table they were making indecent speeches,
telling coarse jokes and telling vulgar stories. One
evening, Charles laughed heartily, made allusions
about prissy girls; and how they acted saintly, but
were gagging for it. Gigi laughed and hugged her
father. Lotte became very pale, looked at her
mother looked and was outraged by her silence.
Lise was startled and found the courage to tell
Father:
"Watch out!"
Father continued his games. Then came the

needle that broke the camel's back: Charles
befriended one of the neighbours, an old florist.
He was sixty years old and married to a young
woman age twenty-five. She was tall and slender.
She had reddish-blond hair, painted lips, a
powdered face, and a casual demeanour -
according to Lise, Mrs Stidel was the
personification of a harlot. That woman became
the pretext and the cause of terrible arguments,
which degenerated into fights between Charles
and Lise. This usually occurred at night. The girls
were sleeping in the next room, they woke up,
pulled their beds to the door, listened up; they
heard beatings and insults. Suddenly, everything
became quiet. Mother wept, sighed, moaned. Gigi
sobbed:
"He is killing her."
Lotte shook her head, trembling with shame and

anger; she remembered and pitied the mother.
Whenever she met Mrs. Stidel, Lotte faced the
other way, pretending that as she hadn't seen her.
She stepped inside the house without a reply,
when the woman called her from over the hedge
separating the two gardens:
" Good morning, little girl! "

She was disgusted by this woman who allowed

herself to be loved by Father, without being
forced. Lotte found her impure. Lotte's behaviour
gave Charles the excuse to shout about all and
nothing at every opportunity. No mother raised
their children as badly as Lise did. "But you're too
naughty", Gigi said to Lotte . One Sunday
morning, after another terrible altercation, Lise
had labour pains and gave birth to a daughter one
month premature. Mrs Stidel arrived first to help
her, she recommended her doctor who lived not
far away. Lise requested a midwife. Charles
scolded her telling her that she was stupid, but
nevertheless he decided to run to the neighboring
village and get one. Then they had to fetch old
aunt Anna, the flower-maker, and write a letter to
Aunt Sophie.
Lotte instantly disliked the small creature, that

misshapen mass of red flesh. She found that too
somehow dirty, and confusing, and her mind was
struggling once again. Indeed her mother did not
voluntarily give birth to this child. Her mother
was a victim and Lotte began to love her.
By then, Lise's mood had hit low point. For

several months she had been happy as she never
thought she could ever be, and now it was all over
already. Her pregnancy had been difficult,
especially because in order to conceal it, she had
worn a corset out of vanity. She was suffering

terribly that her husband was wooing Mrs Stidel.
After the birth of the child, Lise felt more
confident and she became softer. She was moved
that her daughter looked after her and wept. She
had never had the courage to learn the whole
extent of her child's misfortune. At the same time
she thought of her daughter as a 'woman' because
she 'knew' . This lack of curiosity and her mother's
whole attitude confirmed to Lotte that her soul
was lost. Mother made some confessions in a
painful voice that could break hearts and
concealed some others. Lotte felt about Mother's
grief as if it was her own, as long as this was
related to Father. Yet Mother was not mad at Mrs.
Stidel:
" She can keep him. "
Lise did not understand the need to inform Mr.

Stidel about the matter. What should she? Lotte
was surprised that her mother was still welcoming
this woman yet she claimed that Mrs Stidel used
to be a maid in a tavern, where unclean things
happened. She was surprised that Mother
responded to her smile and her kindness. In order
to expose Mrs Stidel's tenderness towards the
father, Lotte found words that hit Lise like slaps.
Lise kept her suffering to herself. She hid it like a
shameful disease. She confided into her sister
Sophie, the farmer's wife whom she despised
because of her red cheeks, and her thick, red
arms; is it natural to be jealous? The sister was a

formidable woman: she could easily set a house
on fire. She only stayed for two days. Lise noticed
that Charles seemed to get along well with
Sophie. He told her more than one unsavoury
story and she laughed on top of her lungs. Lise
wondered whether the sister was now laughing at
her. She was glad to see her go, soon after was
Lise was able to get up from her sick bed, and she
was also glad to see the back of Aunt Anna, whose
religious lectures had bored her.
Mrs Stidel continued gracing the house with her

presence. In the morning, she paraded her lace; in
the evening, the sound of her silk underskirts was
rustling. She was cheerful, lending books to the
convalescent Lise, the latter devoured them and
kept them hidden. Mrs Stidel's opinion on life
was:
" As far as I'm concerned- my motto is: keep it
short and sweet."
Mrs Stidel was behaving very arrogantly towards

Charles, so Lise started to believe that nothing
was going between the two, the woman was
merely keeping him hanging on. Once, after Mrs
Stidel had left, Lise said sarcastically:
" She's been making fun of you, you poor boy. "
She enjoyed hurting him with that remark. This

was how she took her revenge for his disdain.

Charles got dressed, without saying a word, he
went out. He only returned home at night, and told
the next morning, that the Stidel girl was really
shameless: she had welcomed him in her
bedroom, two steps away from her snoring
husband . Lise screamed desperately:
" You're lying!"
The arrival of the neighbor interrupted that

argument. She was all white in the face and her
hair looking like a blaze. Her eyes sneered and she
smiled enigmatically. Lise was very pleased to
see that in her presence, Charles immediately
behaved like a shy, little boy.
Although Lotte had missed school for a few days,

she was awarded a nice book, which was worth
several prizes. Father who had accompanied his
daughters was very proud, but his admiration fell
on deaf ears. He held a speech in praise of work,
study and diligence in vain: throughout the
journey back to Neuilly, Lotte remained silent.
When they arrived there, Charles caused a scene,
breaking the windows of an old cabinet in the
dining room and he, demanded that his daughter
went on her knees to ask for his forgiveness.
Mother cried and begged :.
" Do it for my sake."
The child did not yield. Father left the house

making terrible threats. In the evening, he

announced that he had drowned Minou in the
Marne, because the cat was digging up the plants.
Then he ate, and left again. They did not see him
for a fortnight. The Stidels were also on a trip.
Lotte said to her mother:
" If only he did never return. Neither him, nor her

"
Lise was crying. Without being able to admit to

it, the mother felt hatred towards her
daughter. She expressed her anger by hateful
words about Charles, who was the subject and the
cause of it. She talked about divorce, she
explained to the child that this was easily
possible. He deserved it, for all that he did. Then
the father came back. Appeased, satisfied. Then
the Stidels returned home. Apparently, they had
met by chance in Le Havre. The same life started
again. During these two holiday months, Lotte
had moved from disappointment to rebellion. She
had read Pascal and could not decide whether to
confront evil. Should she do it? Was there no
other remedy? Who could believe that and
continue living? If there was a God, was not his
duty to encourage those who were fighting for
justice? A new hope started growing inside her:
she would liberate her mother.
Mother was petty, had peculiar ideas, conformed

to appearances, and worried about the peoples

opinion. She still had not learned anything. Lotte
would teach her. This flattered her young pride.
After they cried together for a while, she gently
explained to her mother that they had to keep
faith, hope and watch over Gigi. Then, next year,
she, Lotte, would get her school leaving
certificate and start working and Mother was
going to divorce. They would to live together,
forget about this man, find peace and happiness.
Hastily, Lise agreed with everything that Lotte
said:
"You see - we could save ourselves, but he would

kill me. "
Then she added:

" I probably could find the courage to kill him one
day. "
Lotte calmed her down:

"He's not worth it, he'll leave."
And in the evening - when everyone was asleep,

except for Charles who was still out - Lotte got
up, she left the house in her bare feet. In her gown,
she walked through the garden and on the street.
Perhaps Minou did not drown. Perhaps he was
lost and hungry. The Stidels used to have a cat and
it did come back, a long time after it had run away.
The fields stretched in front of her; then the

Wetlands and in the distance between the trees - a
dim glow: the Marne . Everything was quiet, very
quiet. Charlotte called out quietly: Minou! Minou!
Afraid of Father, she watched out for shadows.
All of a sudden, she felt her strength fading,
frozen in the indifference of the night.
chapter 05
The Bugeot's business went well. their marriage

continued to deteriorate. Charles bought a horse
and a cart. Every Saturday, he travelled to Neuilly
using the excuse that he needed to supervise the
construction of a stable and a shed in the
backyard. Lise wanted to accompany him, he
refused. One Sunday morning, she intended to
meet Charles and surprise him with the two
daughters but Lotte did not see any point to that.
Father enjoyed going on trips with the
Stidels. Fooling around, he came off the road on
several occasions, wounding the horse and
breaking the cart. Lise said:
"Repairs costs money. Could you not avoid this
accident?"
Later, Lotte said:

"Leave him alone. Maybe, one day he'll break his
neck."
" He's your father. "
Quite surprised the child looked at her mother.

Lise turned away, unable to explain why she said
that. She did not know herself.
At school, Lotte liked her new teacher, she was

called Miss Buchs. After handing out an essay
"The Love of Children", Miss Buchs explained
that children needed to love their parents. Foolish
little girls should watch themselves and not judge
according to appearances. The older you got, the
more you realized that evil did not exist. Nobody
wanted to be evil, parents only wanted what was
best for their children. Lotte argued that children
ought to love their parents only the parents were
kind to them.
"Girls, you're not always kind and well-behaved.

And yet, I love you because I know that it's not
your fault. When I punish you, I only do so to
teach you. It causes more grief to me than to
you.... - you need to realize that. And your parents
are the same, therefore you need to love them
even when they punish you".
Lotte did not answer nor say: "Yes, Miss, perhaps

you believe that!" yet she stood by her
convictions. Thinking about it, now she
understood her mother's remark better. Mother
believed everything she was told. They had
drilled similar things into her at her school. Miss
Buchs would not speak like that if she knew

Father.
One fine morning, the family heard that Mrs

Stidel had left her marital home. Then her
husband suffered a stroke - and he died. The
young widow returned home immediately. Lise
said that apart from the house, the old man had
left a small fortune, amounting to hundreds of
thousands of francs. In his will, he bequeathed
everything to his wife. Out of the blue, distant
cousins turned up, accusing Mrs Stidel to be
responsible for the death of her husband. The
relatives had everything sealed up by the court,
and they demanded an autopsy. Mrs Stidel rented
an apartment in Paris. Lise accused her husband
to pay for her upkeep. Charles claimed that he was
concerned about the trial and added that he could
not abandon an unfortunate lonely young woman
to her fate.
"She will lose her trial, your harlot. Otherwise she

would already enjoy her new fortune!"
"You're so stupid."
Now Charles rarely came home. For several

weeks, he spent the nights away from home.
Usually, when he returned, he changed his clothes
then he left again, without replying to his wife's
accusations. In the meantime, Lise kept the family
business in good order. She told her daughter that
she was scared of her husband because he hit

her when he could not find things he had been
looking for. Lotte said:
" Mother, when he hits you, while were at school,

scream, make some noise. But don't tease him
about Mrs Stidel. This has nothing to do with us.
"
That year Lotte, now fourteen, was awarded her

leaving certificate as well as a beautiful book;
Miss Buchs had chosen it for her: 'The
Merovingian Times'. The teacher hugged her
warmly and deplored that Lotte would no longer
attend school. But she did not dare asking Lotte to
visit as she was thinking about the mother whom
she found so rough and cold-hearted. She
feared that too much concern for the young girl
could deepen misunderstandings with the mother
and would make things worse for Lotte. Gigi
knew that there was no chance of getting any
prize, so Charlotte came on her own. On her way
home, she cried. Infinite sadness had overcome
her. She would not have imagined becoming so
fond of the poor trees, the small courtyard, the red
cat, the worn-out school benches, and all those
familiar things that she would no longer see. She
discovered a kind of magic in them, something
almost soulful and it attracted her. She was
standing on the threshold of her future. The day
before, she had been sure that it belonged to her.
Now she was expecting darkness, and felt how

her future was escaping from her. How
infinitesimal powers were, compared to those
mysterious and hostile forces! Perhaps it would
have been better to go back to the teacher, and
wholly confide in her about following a dream
that was too bold. Had she misjudged the
situation? The sight of her mother - her haggard
and yellowish face - her laboured walking (Lise
was pregnant again) made her blush about her
hesitations. Lotte thought about the time when she
would be able to liberate Mother: it seemed close
to her. In three years, the sun would rise up and
shine brightly. Only time! Years had passed by
like a dream, they had transformed the dreamy,
tender child, into a hardworking, cheerful, little
girl. And within a few months, that little girl
changed into a thin, serious young person who
mistook signs of puberty for decline. - now her
face looked disturbingly pale, her eyes were sad
and dark; she had changed beyond recognition.
Mother had not been able to prepare the new

season's work during the summer. The birth of the
child was difficult; the boy died. Now at the
beginning of the winter-season, she did not want
to employ the workers and preferred paying
casual home-workers. As in the early days of her
marriage, she was working alone in her deserted
workshop, now she had the assistance of
Charlotte, who was learning quickly and well.

Lise was tired, discouraged, and complained
incessantly. She was so fed up of the business, and
raising children! Fed up with Gigi, who kept
playing even when Mother was calling her, until
her voice became hoarse! How many women
employed parlour-maids! Father travelled around,
collected payments and added a new storey to the
house in Neuilly. He was angry when orders
could not be delivered on time. Once he blamed
mother and daughter, he accused them of being
lazy. The young girl did not put up with that
accusation, she stood up from her work and went
to Charles:
"At least leave us in peace. Don't take our hard-
earned money away."
The man shrugged:

" I won't humour you. You're just a little girl. "
Then he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

One Saturday, Charlotte received a visit from the
workers. She did not have any money to pay them.
She felt ashamed and was sad for them. Many of
these women were poor and relied on their wages.
She told them to wait until Monday. One
particular girl made her feel emotional: She was
very young, carrying an infant in her arms and
looked at her miserable bundle with admiration
and tenderness. Mother had said of her: an

obnoxious person. Not married and having a child
at that age! Charlotte smiled gratefully, when
the little worker helped her out of the
embarrassing situation:
" Monday - certainly, Miss - I'll come back on

Monday. It doesn't matter, my man gets his wages
on a Saturday."
Her man brought so his wages to her, while

Mother and herself always had to ask Father to
give them money. That day after the workers had
left, Lise and Lotte walked to the Rue Saint-
Apoline, where they saw Charles sitting at the bar
with other travel-salesmen at Porcher's the wine
merchant. Everyone was drinking absinthe apart
from Hector Ledoux the salesman. Hector was
forty-five years old and was very proud of his
two sons, one was preparing his teaching
certificate,the other went to evening classes.
Charlotte listened to him but forbid herself to
enjoy his company because she knew that he had
a liaison with Mrs Mathilde Porcher, the tavern-
keeper's wife. Rumour was that Hector was the
father of Mathilde's late child. Mrs Porcher, tall
and blonde was forty years old and graciously
served the customers despite her husband
constantly shouting at her. Lise approached her
husband, pulled his sleeve. Charles told her off,
so the woman sat down with her daughter at
another table. Moments later, Lotte said in a hard

and dry voice:
" Father, the money. I 'm fed up sitting here, do
you hear me! "
The father came over and gave her the remainder

of his money:
" Certainly, love."
During such moments Lise both admired and

hated her daughter.
After the two women had left, they talked about

the young one at the tavern:
"She is going to be damn pretty, old man, but you
need to wash her mouth with soap."
Charles proudly put his hand on his chest. The

mother was the same, when he married her. And
the daughter was also very clever. She had been
very ill, so he needed to give her some leeway. He
increasingly believed that he had felt an
extraordinary passion for Lise. He had never
loved anyone like her. He had botched his life.
Mrs Stidel who was also there, pursed her lips:
"You can start up again. "
A tender look and an ambiguous smile underlined

her words. Mrs Stidel was still in the middle of
her trial when another scandal took place. Hector
Ledoux and an ex-soldier called Robert fought a
duel because Robert felt that Hector spoke badly

about Mrs Stidel. Hector Ledoux died. The next
time that Charlotte went to the tavern to get
money from her father, she saw that Mrs Porcher
was very nervous while Mrs Stidel with a group
of women talked about Hector and his conquests.
One of the women, Mrs Touvel retorted that this
was malicious gossip started by Robert. Charlotte
tried to console the distraught woman by telling
her not to listen to Mrs Stidel but Mr Porcher told
his wife to get back to work. Two days later, Mr
Porcher came to the Bugeot flat and asked Lise to
accompany him to the morgue: Mathilde had
committed suicide by throwing herself from the
tower of Notre-Dame cathedral. She had left the
home wearing her best dress and telling him that
she was going to visit an exhibition at the
Louvres. Lise said:
"My poor friend, it's for the best."
"Mother!" Charlotte said, then she realised that it
was pointless saying anything more.
"She was so kind, Mrs Bugeot, she loved me. I
don't understand. I was always there for her."
Gigi could not help but staring at the man. She
had always been told that men never cried.
Around this time Gigi left school. She had learned

almost nothing. She was sent away as an
apprentice because she was playing too much at

home. Of course, she did not learn anything there
either. So they found her a new employer. Each
day, it became clearer that Gigi was incompetent,
indifferent and weak. She would become
whatever fate decided for her and Gigi was a
constant source of worry. No bond existed
between the two sisters. For a long time, Gigi had
disliked Charlotte for taking the mother's side.
Even if Charlotte opposed any form of physical
punishment, she was so patronizing. Then,
Charles came back home. For eight days he was
kind and calm. Lise started hoping again. Charles
spoke to Charlotte, the latter did not give any
answer and turned away from him. Lise was
secretly raging about her oldest daughter as she
felt that Charlotte was only kind to strangers. The
young girl could not understand Lise's frosty
behaviour. Even less, when Charles started to go
out again and was abusing his wife. Then Lise
became closer to Charlotte and was speaking
about divorce and then she gave to her sixth child.
The child, a boy, was immediately brought to
Aunt Sophie's.
Now sixteen, Charlotte was a very naive young

girl. She was shy, she had no female friends. She
was reading short stories published from "Le Petit
Parisien" or the "Le Petit Journal" because her
mother was passionate about those. Very often,
they were about love. Charlotte also borrowed
books on French history and travelogues from the

local library. Her only pleasure was visiting the
Louvres Museum every Sunday, as recommended
by her teacher. If a passer-by talked to her, she ran
away. Charlotte was tired. She did not complain,
but she rebelled. She said that she did no longer
want to support Father financially. The house in
Neuilly was mortgaged for the second time, as
they needed to pay bills of exchange amounting
to several thousand francs. Whom did they owe
all that money? What for? The creditors were an
upholsterer and a champagne dealer. They could
not find any tenants for the house. After they
dismissed the travelling-salesman, only a few
customers were ordering from Bugeots; the
income was enough for the two women to live on
but Charles earned nothing yet demanded money
from them. From time to time, Lise gave some to
him. (She was keeping a petty cash for
emergencies which she hid it from her daughter.)
When the young girl became angry, Lise
explained to her that she could not cope on her
own with three children. Lotte said:
"You said so yourself that he does nothing. On the

contrary, he takes the money we earn away from
us. If you wait any longer, the result will only be
that youll become pregnant again."
Lise remained silent, she sighed and wept. The

girl was so judgmental, and she often openly used
shameless words. After the birth of the last child,

Charlotte often made insinuations and explained
that she did want not to put up with that any more.
Lise was worried. She sent the girl to deliver
items when she expected Charles later in the day.
At night she pleaded with him to bicker more
quietly. When Charles complained about the ball
and chain that he had to drag with him, Charlotte
replied:
" There is divorce. "
After that, life became hell at the Bugeots. Now

Charles wanted a divorce but Lise refused. She
explained to her daughter that, she needed to
protect their interests and retain the house in
Neuilly. However, the father wanted everything.
Lise felt that she had worked hard enough for that
house, and did not want to lose her entitlement to
it. Charlotte would have given everything away,
sacrificed everything just to get rid of the father.
Her hatred had reached its strongest level. Now,
he was always at home, screaming, asking to be
served, he ate his breakfast before the others, and
he ate his lunch at noon after the others; he
continually was inventing new ways of harassing
people. Now he took vicious pleasure to quiz Gigi
about natural sciences and chemistry, just as she
was about to go to sleep.
"These women -. what a bunch of hens," he

roared, and hit the table with his fists. He
threatened to slap them all, but he did not dare to

do so because Charlotte was bravely challenged
him:
"Watch out - don't you touch Gigi...."
This happened a few times, the young girl was a

bundle of nerves, trembling long after each
confrontation. When she needed to stay awake at
night, and this occurred once or twice a week, she
needed to prop pillows behind her back, and
became tired almost immediately, suffering from
hiccups and nausea as a result of the smell of glue
in the workshop. She also felt a painful stitch and
dizziness. All these symptoms annoyed Lise
because herself as a young girl she had never
experienced them when she needed to stay up all
night. Nevertheless, she told Charles hoping to
stir his emotions. She only managed to make him
angry. The thought of his daughter was like a red
rag to a bull. He took revenge by beating his wife.
Lise no longer defended herself, in order to avoid
any noise.
One afternoon, as they were both working and

Lise was weeping, Charlotte merely said:
" I hear you at night, Mother. Are you not sick of
it?"
Then the bell rang. Charles kicked in the door of

the workshop, and arrived, drunk, armed with a
revolver. He shot at the women, the bullets hit the
wall. The mother was terrified to death, Charlotte

dragged her out and she left her at the caretaker's,
then she went up to the flat again to pick up the
work and the cash-box from the cupboard. Strong
belief was sustaining her, Charlotte could see her
goal. The father had thrown himself on the bed.
When Lotte entered the room, Charles only
moaned. The young girl took the gun from the
night-table, and disappeared before Charles could
think of holding her back.
They picked up Gigi from her work, then the three

women ate in a restaurant and slept in a small
hotel. Charlotte was serious, Lise was very
cheerful. She was making plans, so happy in her
new-found sense of freedom, she wanted to spend
the evening at the music-hall. She admitted to
Charlotte that she had one thousand and two
hundred francs in a savings account. Charles did
not know about it so he would not be able to lay a
claim on it. She has suffered so much, endured so
much to defend that money! So that they would
not be destitute if they had to move away.
Charlotte threw herself into her arms, and cried:
"Mother, dear Mother, poor Mother!"
The poor woman burst into tears. She believed

that she was strong like she used to and yet she
failed to realize that now was the moment to be
brave. Gigi looked at the revolver and wondered
anxiously whether father would buy another one
and go looking for them. The next morning, after

the women were sure that the father had left the
flat, and with the help of the caretaker (the rent
was paid and he earned ten francs on top of it)
they packed their furniture and the clothes on a
hastily rented cart, and drove to the new
apartment in the Temple district. Mother received
some advice from a visiting neighbour, while
Charlotte sought judicial assistance about
divorce. The office reassured the young girl that
the divorce could be settled without their
presence.
The first few days were peaceful. From time to

time Mrs Touvel the neighbor spent the evening
with them before picking up her good-for-nothing
husband. She had been divorced twice. She said
Proof of adultery worked best at speeding up the
procedure. Nothing was easier with men. They
all cheat on their wives and they are so stupid!
They know nothing. Lise enjoyed listening to the
woman talking about her divorces, especially
hearing how she surprised the culprits and finding
out about the husbands lovers. Later she told her
daughter that the woman had three men in her life
- including the current landlord - and she was no
suitable company. Once someone had given their
love away and needed to be separated, then life
was finished. But Mrs Touvel's advice could be
useful. One evening Mr Porcher, the wine
merchant visited Lise and told her:
"I saw your husband, Mrs Bugeot. Really, I feel

sorry for him."
For the whole next day, Lise was happy. Then

gradually she started to paint the future in the
darkest hues. She became annoyed at her daughter
because she had tied a little piece of ribbon
around her neck. And that hairstyle! Charlotte
wanted to part her hair - it did not hold. Lise
sighed:
"One day, you'll leave me, you'll marry. What
will become of me and the little one? "
Charlotte was petrified and outraged:

"Me? Getting married? You know perfectly well
that its not possible. "
The answer did not satisfy the mother. These were

only words. She mulled angrily against the girl,
who had pushed her for divorce. The notion went
against her prejudices, her heart, her mind, her
natural need to live. In the evenings, the wine
merchant secretly handed over letters from
Charles. Her husband was begging her to return,
threatening to kill himself, and remembering all
their common precious hours. They would have
been even more of them, if she had wanted to
earlier. Lise had regrets, she tried to convince
Charlotte by speaking to her about the father's
intelligence and good qualities. The bad
company, that he kept - especially Mrs Stidel -
were his downfall. Charlotte became angry and

branding Father's demeanour with the sharpest
words. Mother said:
"He's your father."
Charlotte burst into tears. She wished never to

have had a father, and envied the foundlings.
Now in the middle of winter season, the two

women were very busy. Charlotte was not able to
stay up late. She became nauseous after midnight.
Lise said:
"You see, we can't cope."
Every time an order was less voluminous than

they had hoped, or if a supplier refused to put the
materials on the tab, if a customer did not pay an
invoice on time, Lise wept and said that they were
going to starve. Nothing discouraged Charlotte.
She succeeded quite well at handling the business.
The suppliers liked her, because she was very
polite. The customers liked her assertiveness, a
quality much at odd with her youth and her kind
demeanour. She always managed to get what she
required, credit from someone, payment from
someone else, in cash or in frequent installments.
Happy she returned home and spoke about better
times when they would be able to hire workers;
she could not understand her mother's low moods.
Gigi seemed to behave properly at her new
workplace. Then the mother learned that she had
not come to the workshop for three weeks. If she

did not work, what was she doing between eight
clock in the morning to seven clock in the
evening? No one knew, Lise wept, accused
herself of having contributed to the moral
downfall of her younger daughter. She had shown
her a bad example: she had left her home, listened
to this or that, listened to that young girls with her
newfangled disrespectful ideas. Charlotte lost her
composure and replied that Gigi was not lost,
eventually they would find out everything about
her, in the meantime, they only needed to keep her
at home. Outraged at the blatant dishonesty of her
mother, she asked her whether the daughter of
that father had not been in more danger in his own
house than running on the streets. Cruel words.
The mother would never forgive her.
Often Charles waited for his wife to the opposite

side of the street. He waited for Lotte to leave then
he came upstairs. He could not live alone,
without anyone to torment, without people to
argue with. He was finished, lost and
aimless. Lise was happy; satisfied, she realized
that he needed her. So did he love her after all?
There was nobody for her apart from him. She
would have liked to keep him right there. But he
still wanted to spare Charlottes feelings. His fear
towards the young girl, the concern that he
showed for her - saying, that she was so delicate ,
so nervous , and it was best not to upset her - all
this increased Lises resentment. The girl was the

true cause of all their misery. He nodded his head
repeatedly:
" She is a child, just a child ."
Gigi observed silently, surreptitiously. However,

she did not tell her sister about these visits.
Lise and Charles thought they loved each other.

Was it really love? ...
On Christmas Eve, Lise was in a very bad mood,

Charlotte was in an excellent mood. She has just
come home smiling, still wearing her hat, she
showed mother her torn veil and asked for fifty
centimes to buy a new one. Mother said that veils
were useless. Incidentally, Lotte could buy one
herself. Every week, she was paid one franc. Still
smiling, Charlotte reminded her mother that that
money was for her books. She was preparing for
a teaching certificate. Once again, Lise noted that
the wretched girl did not want to let go of her
crazy notions. Charlotte had many faults. She
was totally unaware about the true value of
money. When she calculated that mother and
herself earned five hundred francs that month, she
clapped her hands, and thought of herself as a rich
person. She took on too many tasks, and
desperately clung to what she set out to do. As she
was not able to stay up late at night, she used to
get up in the morning before the others, to read,
write and solve equations. Was it any wonder that

she was too tired for any useful work after she had
harried uselessly? For someone who was
continually examining everything with reason,
this was not very logical. She also was vain, she
wanted gloves, she wanted a veil. She refused to
straighten her hair with pomade. So it always fell
in curls over her forehead, and curled at the nape.
Pleased with herself, she looked in the mirror. It
was hanging above the fireplace in the room,
which the girls shared with mother. Standing on a
chair, to her heart's content, she admired her slim
waist, cinched by a black belt. At the front the
belt was tapered like an arrow. She spent an hour
crafting it. When the mother surprised her,
Charlotte did not apologize, she only laughed and
demanded to be admired, she told that mother also
had a "waist", she should let her little girl dress
her. At first, Lise was flattered and did not scold.
Later, she thought about everything and became
angry. That wretched girl! She herself admitted
that her mother was still young and pretty. Why
did she want to deprive her from the love of her
husband?
"Read this - your father gave me a letter for you."

" He and you! Here! You let him come in here!
"
Very pale, the young girl backed off. Here - this

is their home, it belonged to them only. Nothing
ugly, nothing sad, nothing from their hated past

was allowed in here, but Mother said:
"A husband is everywhere at home, where his
wife is. "
"Hes no longer your husband . You're divorcing
him, therefore ... "
Lise tried to remain calm, as Charles had advised

her:
"Understand, my child. A woman does not leave
her husband. You wanted me to do it. You're
young so you could be forgiven for that. "
"Mother, he threatened you, and only he wants to
scare you. Do not believe him, a woman is free -.
"
"Enough, enough, read this letter , do you hear me
?"
Charlotte stepped back even further:

"No way!"
"No way?"
Lise's anger suddenly erupted, and it knew no

boundaries. Everything she had suffered, her
repressed childhood, her youth at convent
boarding school, her marriage, her life so full of
work and hardship, all the children who were
born, those died, idle Gigi, all this was Charlotte's
fault because she had always done everything to
alienate the father from his own home:
" Ah, looking so proud - this is now finished, my

little one, I see through your game. Your contrary
attitude, your whole behaviour have caused
everything, and I was blind and I let you. Now
it's over."
Charlotte's consternation and silence, encouraged

Lise:
" I love my husband and he loves me, do you hear
me? He loves me, he has always loved me. He
wanted to protect you. To protect a busybody!
Cat's got your tongue, eh? Now I know how to
tame you. Your father is returning home tonight.
What do you have to say? "
" Nothing . I'm leaving. "

"Youre leaving, youre leaving ! "
Lise laughed loudly :
With your lover, you shameless girl, shameless
girl. So that's what the young lady wants - to be
free. Ah and do you think I 'll let you walk on the
streets, like your sister?
Lise was choking with rage. She had expected her

daughter to give a reply and berate her. This girl
was not capable of anger. Lise grabbed Lotte's
arm and yelled:
"You wont go."
"As you wish. I'll kill him."
Lotte's voice was toneless, cold, quiet. Lise had

heard that voice before. At that time - Charlotte
had just recovered from her encephalitis. The face
of the young girl was hard and unrelenting. she
freed herself then went to her room, she came
back with her money-box, she took out the money
- fifteen francs - and put it in her purse. Lise was
sobbing. Lotte folded her laundry and her Sunday
dress, she packed everything, including her books
in the box that she had just brought home and used
for deliveries. As she was wrapping its strap
around her arm, the mother came to her senses.
She threw insults at the child who listened
spellbound and open-mouthed. These words -
Lotte knew them, she had often heard them, and
not given any attention to them. Now, from the
mouth of her mother - intended for her - they
flooded her, horrific, monstrous, shattering like a
torrent of mud, tearing all her pure faith, all her
young hopes with them. Lise used those words,
without knowing, without understanding, for
nothing, just like her husband: to make some
noise. Hearing them echoing in the stillness,
drove her into a frenzy. She screamed louder and
louder, waving her hands, a machine - a slave - to
her memories.
At least Charlotte laughed, such a strange laugh.

It almost took her breath away:
" If only you knew how futile this is. "
She pushed the mother away. With a leap, she

went through the door, then disappeared down the
stairwell. Only then, Gigi wanted to dart after her.
Silent and motionless, she had listened to the
whole scene - she called:
"Lotte, little Lotte !"
Mother pulled her down to the floor:

" You, you as well - you'll get a spanking!"
On that Christmas Eve, the weather was dry and

very cold. Slowly, bending her head and with her
box under her arm, Charlotte walked up the street
to Belleville. She was unaware of the time. She
had been walking for a long time, for an eternity,
among the crowd. There had been people in front
of her, behind her, beside her, people who were
telling what to do , what not to do, what one must
not love. And their actions had always
contradicted their words. She had approached
them with open arms, and an open heart - they had
turned away, clung with fondness to things that
were hurting them. At time, Charlotte stopped,
wanted to ask directions. Everyone was looking
at her, as if she was mad, and they repeated
meaningless words. a scamp called, he threw her
against a shop-window with a punch:
" Are you drunk, girl?"
Pestilent breath wafted towards her, a man with a

red face asked:
" Hey girl, want to party the night away? "
She pushed him back. Her head ached violently.

She could not remember the question that she
wanted to ask. Everybody was hurrying up, as if
driven by an invisible force which nobody could
withstand. She - why did she want to know? Why
did she want to understand? Was there anything
in the world, what could be understood? The best
option was to walk ahead and repeat the
neighbour's words, make movements to gain
some space. A cyclist brushed up past her, the
sound of his bell rang frantically in her ears:
"Hey, you little fool, do you mind? Don't hog the
road!"
She was in the middle of the Rue Bolivar. She was

shivering, and started to run. Once upon a time,
there was a girl called Charlotte, she was curious,
passionate, affectionate and brave. What did she
want? She did not know, really, she did not know.
And from now on - she would not ask for
anything, nothing, never. This had come all over
her so come all of a sudden and why should
anything matter now?
chapter 06
"Little lamb, little lamb - no, who would have

thought that! How strange life is! I recognized
you - You know - right away - Your little,
wrinkled face, your big cat eyes - sixteen years
old you say? You poor thing, you still look like a
little chick. Indeed, we all get older. So you
thought of me? how did you manage to find me?
No, really? - you know - I still can't believe it. "
Lucie Parent was pacing inside her big room lit by

two windows. Two beds, a rickety table, some
chairs, clothes hanging from the walls or lying
around everywhere. Shoes in front of the small
round stove which was red hot, its pungent smell
mingling with the fumes from the oil table
lamp that had no lampshade. On the mantelpiece,
next to a drinking-glass, with withered flowers,
there was a comb full of hairs.
Lucie was a tall woman of no particular age. Her

breasts were bouncing under her open jacket. Her
hair was permed, her face very powdered and very
faded. But still she had her naughty - yet
deceptive - demeanour. Charlotte, sitting on a

chair, in tears, was looking at her box on the
ground by her feet. Her story was simple: mother
scolded her, she ran away. she did not know
whom to turn to and so she wandered down the
streets and wished to die. When she stood in front
of the water, so ugly, so black, so fearsome, she
suddenly remembered Lucie,who had been kind
to her when she was young and lived in the Rue
des Mignonnes. Mignonnes - of course
'Mignottes' - such a pretty name. Only she had to
ask at every house on the street because she had
forgotten the house-number. Finally, one
caretaker told her that Mother Parent had died.
Her son and her two daughters had moved to Rue
Mercadet, in Montmartre:
" If they are still there! "

" And we are still here - luckily we didn't move to
Montrouge, that would have been a long walk for
you! Into the water! - little girl, you're breaking
my heart. Oh, come on - you know you always
were something special - but isn't it
funny. Incidentally - my brother - he left us in
the lurch."
"Ah!"
"Yeah. I don't miss him, just so you know You

seem to take an interest in my family. Georgette
and I, we get on very well together. It's just that
silly hen always needs a man and once she's found
a decent guy, she can't cope staying with him.

Tonight she's on the tiles. My man is doing his
military service and he's younger than me, so
stupid of me. I had sworn to myself not to fall for
any man -. Suddenly it got me. You see - it's
better to get started with it, because that's how it
ends -. He is very nice, you'll see when you meet
him. He's jeweler, by trade - a real one. As for
myself -. I won't have any men during his
absence. It's not grand in here, but still better than
sleeping under a bridge. When Georgette gets
itchy feet: I tell her: 'Off you go!' Oh, she always
returns, she never stays away for too long, she's
happy to see me again. Tell me, Lotte, do you
have any money?"
"I have fifteen francs!"

"What a fortune! I hope you don't intend to retire
on it. "
"I'll work. I've learned the trade."
"You have learned. You poor silly girl, of course
you have! When you were small - you always had
wits and common sense. You certainly... you had
no dinner and here's me chattering and chattering!
You look so befuddled . . . Well, I'm speechless.
If someone had told me that! Take your rags off.
I have soup and coffee, little lamb, my little lamb.
Can't believe it. Say something!
" Forgive me, Lucie, I've come from far away. It
was very far. "
Charlotte could not eat anything, exhausted she

collapsed. Lucie needed to undress her, and put
her to sleep in one of the beds. She slept soundly.
The next morning, when she woke up at seven
o'clock, she saw Lucie in her shirt kneeling in
front of the stove, she was about to light the fire.
Lucie turned her head, she smiled at the young
girl:
" Fancy a drop of milk? Stay in the can. It will do

you good. you don't look so grand. Todays a
holiday. Tomorrow ... sure you don't want to go
back to your mother's?"
"Im sure, Lucie."
"You'll find out soon enough that life's no
picnic. Well - that your choice - Listen, I've been
thinking: I can't keep you here. First, your mother
will be looking for you - she could bite someone's
head off that one. And where would she
look? Here at old friends. She must be astonished
that you're not back. Second, Georgette will show
up and sometimes guys come to see her - if they
took a shine to you, then you're finished. Are you
crying?"
" No, Lucie - it doesn't matter. I understand. I'm
leaving."
At first, Charlotte had thought of Miss Buchs. But

then the teacher might have brought her back to
her family. Now she thought about it again,
maybe she could wait for her outside the school

and implore the teacher to let her stay with her.
Lucie started again:
"It's not right not to help a poor girl in trouble
Hang on! Rue Flocon, very close from here, I
know there's a room for rent from January 8th.
You don't have to pay a deposit, and it's available
now. You take this bed, I don't need it, and I'll
give you a chair, some bits and bobs -.... et voil:
the young lady is living with her own furniture;
then tomorrow morning, you'll go to the Dcoiffer
Workshop, Rue de Clry and tell them that I sent
you. A decent place, damn busy! They did ask me,
but I work somewhere else, otherwise .... But I
have a friend there, she's called Armandine, and
you can confide in her as you do with me, she will
protect you, little girl. So - does this arrangement
suit you?"
"You're so kind, Lucie."
"You're so sweet. Always the same little girl, do
you remember?"
They drink their milk. Lucie hugged the girl, put

her back to bed:
"This is necessary, you have been up and about
for so long."
They chatted until eleven clock, exchanging old

memories. Then Lucie stood up, she was going to
buy lunch.
"Take some of my money , Lucie . "

"Are you crazy? How are you going to eat all
week?"
Charlotte let Lucie invite her. She was broken, she

felt nothing, could not think. In the afternoon,
they spoke to the caretaker in the Rue Flocon. She
gladly accepted to lease the room, because this
was such a young girl and Miss Parent's niece.
Her husband helped them to move the bed and the
chair. the women carried old sheets, a blanket, as
well as odds and ends, including Charlotte's box.
As they unpacked, Lucie chatted. What a strange
idea to bring books, and what kind of books!
Mouse food:
" Did you drag all that with you yesterday? Na,
I say - you're in pretty good shape!"
Now Charlotte was set up in a small room on the

sixth floor. It only had a metal bed, a chair, very
few clothes, a blue dress, a small rug, a wash
bowl, two towels. At a store, Charlotte purchased
a hairbrush, a comb and a glass. From an old
cotton rag, she sew a curtain for the window. The
view over the rooftops was glorious. Lucie
laughed, she said that everything was looked well
and advised:
" It isnt going to be warm in here. Buy a small

stove as soon as you can."
Charlotte replied that she spread her clothes on

the bed at night. She already owed Lucie three
francs, because she had given that money to the
caretaker in gratitude for her kindness. Lucie only
wanted her money back when Charlotte was able
to able to earn some:
" Put those three francs, aside for me. Give
them to me when I'm broke (and you arent )."
Charlotte carefully stored her room key in her
purse. As she was leaving, Lucie said:
"If you're not too tired, I'd suggest we visit

Armandine. I don't see her very often. She lives in
the sticks, outside in Mnilmontant."
"That's a good idea, Lucie because of the job
tomorrow."
"I thought so - then you'll know everything right
away."
Lucie wanted them to take the omnibus. saying

Charlotte had walked enough yesterday, she
would be whacked tomorrow. They only arrived
at Armandine's after four o' clock. Armandine
lived in a small apartment on the fifth floor, in
Rue Oberkampf. She was a stout small woman
aged forty-five. Her brown hair curled over her
forehead. She had round, red face, with small eyes
like screw holes, her nose was flat and looked

very small and on her face more like a point more
reddish than the rest. Armandine was wearing a
garnet-coloured skirt, a green blouse with white
embroidery. The outfit looked odd. Fists on her
hips, she was standing in front of her door,
calling:
"Hey - where did you come from, girl?"
Behind her a lean, lanky boy aged fourteen yelled:

"Oh hell, it's the Grimace! Look at the face on
her."
In the room, there was also a chubby, bare-

chested blonde girl, white and pink; she was
laughing. There was also another young girl, of
sickly and shy appearance. She smiled gently. As
Lucie leaned to hug Armandine, Charlotte
became visible.
"I'm bringing a friend. "
Deep silence. Armandine twirled on her heels and

bowed down:
"Step aside, brood. Come in, young lady.
Welcome! These are my children. My son Albert
Bertie - fourteen years old, eight days ago he
was a hardware salesman, since yesterday he's
working at a book printer's. In the future, we'll
see. It's good to have several irons in the fire, isn't
it? This is my daughter Rosa, only proficient in

eating soup as you can see she's enjoying herself.
My daughter Helen - call her Lili -, eighteen,
flower maker like me and she works with me. I
have two other daughters, young lady: Leonore
twenty-three years, a bad apple - well, nothing I
can do about it - you have to have something of
everything -. she is a dyer and she's getting
married. My oldest, Adele, thirty years old, my
love-child, she is a nurse in Tenon. Would you
like to visit our humble abode? There's nothing
here but beds - I dislike overcrowded rooms. My
bedroom is also my daughters' bedroom and my
son's bedroom, it is also the dining room, the
lounge, the dressing room and the kitchen. Things
are much more convenient by having everything
in once place when you're as busy as we are. Less
time wasted moving around. Isn't it true,
children?"
"Hurrah, drumroll for mother, she has spoken

very well, let's drink to her health!"
Albert began to sing in a booming voice. For

several minutes there was an indescribable din.
All were stamping with their feet, clapping their
hands, Albert was meowing frantically. Charlotte
was stunned, and confused. then Armandine's
quick sharp voice on top of all that:
" Enough, enough, that busybody of a caretaker
will be up again"
" Couldn't care less about her. "

"Enough Bertie - when will you finally learn some
respect for authority? Otherwise we might have to
move, young man. Will you get us some beer?
" Syrup, I want syrup. " Rosa called.
" Look here, as if you are not sweet enough," her
brother said, " By the way - hide your baps. It's
disgusting "
"Disgusting - disgusting- hey Mister. You'll look
long and hard before you find another pair like
these!"
"As if you don't know already? I'm so over
women.
" Oh you don't say? "
"Rosa, Bertie - come on - what is the young lady

going to think? She'll believe that you have been
badly brought up, because you argue in front of
everyone. Sit down, young lady. Darling
daughter, button up your blouse. My daughter
thinks that we are living in Eve's times. She means
no harm, but when we get visitors - there are
people who don't like that. This is why she's lost
every job so far. I found her a job at a doctor's, in
our district, not much to do, and a very fine
gentleman - he dismissed her..."
"It's not him, mother - it was Dollface who came

to visit him - what a tart she was. On the contrary
- he told me: 'Make yourself quite comfortable,
young lady ...', so he said.
"He didnt certainly do anything to hold you back.

When I came to get you, he told me. 'Understand
me, dear lady' he said, 'I can't keep your daughter,
she's too much competition: when she opens the
door and my patients see her, they say they are
healed! ' one thing for sure - you won't find such
a gentleman soon! He told me. 'Let her become a
model for a painter, but - my poor child - painters
- how would I know any of them? In the
meantime, nobody will pay you proper respect. "
"The doctor's never denied me proper respect. "
"Well - If I may say so," Bertie said.
"What's your problem, beanpole? "
" I speak for your own good: you have no sense,
hen; when they see your display - it's just too
much - off-putting."
"You - wait - let me get you! "
Armandine needed get up and separate the

children:
"Rosa! Bertie! - and put down your bottle. I have
told you already -. Don't overdo it or Ill forget
my good manners. I don't want any arguments in
here. United we stand If someone want to get
angry at the other, they must run along. you're
wrong, Bertie Let your sister in peace. In here she
is free, don't look at her if you find it
embarrassing. Gosh, again - gang! "
Armandine banged the table vigourously:

" Peace - come here - give me a hug -. United we

stand! "
Gentle Lili stood up and took the bottle from her

brother's hands. Charlotte noticed that she was
limping and her back was crooked. Glasses were
standing on the table, Armandine poured. Here
and there a voice shouted: 'There's not enough
foam!". They toasted each other. Now at last,
Lucie was able to tell Charlotte's story. The young
girl added timidly that she intended to work.
Armandine accepted to take her to Dcoiffer's the
next morning. They should meet at eight clock at
the Porte Saint-Denis. "There's enough work
round there." Charlotte would be well received.
Lucie asked:
" And how's your man?

" Her man - mother's bloke," Bertie replied, "I've
thrown him out - two days ago. I'm patient, but
there are limits "
As Charlotte looked on with a horrified face,

Armandine felt the need to explain:
Fourteen years ago, the father of her children died
when Armandine was pregnant with little Albert.
The father was a good man, a boiler-maker by
trade. When she was fifteen years old, he took her
in. They loved each other, they did not marry
because they could not find the time for that. Why
waste money to support pen-pushers? That did
not prevent them from having five children. There

were certainly, some 'bad moments' but also some
good times. Armandine was probably not pretty
when she was young, no, and she wouldn't say
otherwise, but she was fun. Bertie said:
"And you still are, Mother. "
" Therefore, my boy, you need to be more
forgiving. You see, The older you get - the less
time there is to have fun. "
In the end, her partner overdid work and pleasure.

He became ill with his chest. This is what the
doctors said at the hospital, and they also gave
him soup that had been standing for eleven hours.
Rosa protested:
"Don't say that, Mother, you admitted so yourself

that my employer was a good guy."
"Without any doubt, he was very polite to me, and
he gave me some good advice - there are good
people in every walk of life. Youre right, Rosa -
. one shouldn't have rigid opinions. And still -.
your father is dead. Ah, your father, children - he
loved you so much! I still see him, so pale,
emaciated, in his bed in Lariboisire, and how he
cried: 'My poor Dina, what will become of you
and all the children and the one youre expecting?
' And I said to him: '. Don't distress yourself, my
little lamb, don't fret I know how to get by, I'm
going to be fine. Just make yourself comfortable
in here while theyre nursing you.' And he died,
children, he died, your father. This thought will

never leave my mind: This happened because
they wouldn't let him smoke his pipe. Ah, dear
man, I'll never get over him, never, Children."
Armandine took out a large checkered

handkerchief from her pocket, and wiped her
eyes. everyone was silent. Suddenly a sob could
be heard from Rosa:
"Don't talk about Father, never talk about Father,

this makes me so sad. O my God! "
"You see, Bertie, so be nice to your sister she has

such a big heart. Well howling won't bring him
back - and it's not fun for our guests."
Armandine explained that after the father's death,

she had to raise her young children. The oldest,
Adele, had just given birth to her own child, and
she had her own household.
"Oh, my son-in-law was very good - he was as old
as me - he was too serious so the damsel ran off
after a short while. She left her child with me,
such a poor like mite - I had to hand him over to
the childrens home for adoption. Ah Lucie! My
heart is breaking, when I think about him. Even
today!"
"Dont talk about little Polo, Mother - it's too
much - O, my God," Rosa started sobbing again.
"Stop howling. This is getting ridiculous."
In order to raise her children, Armandine took

lovers in, not for fun, really, although ... Well, you
get the idea. Her dream was to find a serious,
single, hard-working, quiet man been happy to
find her and a cheerful home. she did not ask for
a lot, he had merely needed to suit the children;
she did not expect him to be rich, only to be
working, and pay his share of the food. On
Saturdays he could take the kids to the circus. A
single man on his own didn't know which way to
turn - but a woman like her, she would not ask for
much and by doing everything together, everyone
could be happy. But men were so demanding!
What she had to put up with! At first, her lovers
were all sugar and spice, no sooner had they put
their feet under the table, they felt the need to
lecture everyone. Of course this could not work.
So they needed to tighten up their belts when
going out, as there was not even one centime at
home. One Sunday, Bertie was asked to cook a
soup from old breadcrusts and water, and he
decided to throw an old boot in the pot, to make
the food tastier.
"Well - Lucie - the boy cried like a fountain,

because I didn't find his idea ingenious My Bertie,
good kid. not a moment of boredom, everyone
made sure of that. Once, when the troops were
parading in Longchamps, I was selling soda water
and Bertie shouted. "c'mon - right at the spring"
We've never failed to celebrate on the fourteenth

of July: Great idea from our forefathers to take
the Bastille in the summer. Only Rosa worries us,
because she cant stay still anywhere what can
you do? I say: in life, we have to get on with each
other "
Then Armandine believed to have found the

fulfillment of her dream. Her last man was an
ordinary bloke, not evil. He was a bit grumpy.
"But who 's perfect anyway? " . The day before
yesterday, he found dinner a resounding failure,
and really - it was bad - but Bertie became angry
for no reason, and said harsh words to the
unfortunate man left right away.
"He did like me, Lucie, I felt so sorry, I was

getting really used to him, really I feel sorry, but
as I said to him: 'What can you do, you have to
suit my kids', I did not bring into this world to hurt
them. In here united we stand, this has always
been my motto. But you don't want to offend me,
my children. He will find you, Bertie. Don't be a
bad boy, son."
Bertie grunted:
"Let's wait and see. What does he want that old
man? At home, He was bored stiff like a dead rat
behind a suitcase, we offered him a family, a
shack and bags of entertainment, what else did he
want? I'm willing to listen to him, mother, but he
shouldnt try and be clever. Well he's certainly

very fond of you, because you're funny So - he
needs to behave well, I don't want him using you
"
.
"Nobody wants to use me, my boy. Knowest thy
mother, getting used! That guy isnt born yet. But
we need to help each other. I'm in favor of that.
United we stand. But hell, it's not easy. Hear this,
Lucie, once I had a lover who was leering at Rosa.
Na -. I sent him packing, she wont be exploited.
she's not like Lili -. no - Look at my Lili! "
For a month, Lili had been in love with a guy

called Anatole known as Totole. He was a porter,
carrying the boxes at the department store where
Armandine and her daughter worked before they
started at Dcoiffer's. Not a bad fella, this Anatole
but he had no proper job! What kind of job is that:
porter? He was such a poor devil, spending entire
mornings walking up and down the streets and
delivering boxes. The customers let him wait at
the gates as long as it pleased them. In the
afternoon he was hanging around with despicable
people, some of them had been in prison, - of
course this did not mean that they were worthless,
but still - it wasn't pretty.
"Please understand, Lili, I don't want to preach

morals -. what a nonsense that is - and I can't hold
you all on a leash, can I? When I was your age -
I had my pleasure and, I don't regret it. So I won't

moralize. If it grabs you, then it grabs you, there
is nothing you can do about it, but I won't allow
you to commit such a blunder, you are so delicate
and you meet such a plank. A thick, bloated guy,
soft as rubber which will let you starve to death!
Remember what Rosa's employer said when I
asked him what was wrong with you? He said, it's
better for you not to get married. How I told him:
'My daughter is limping, but this should not
prevent her to enjoy her life.' You find this funny
but you wouldn't want to be in her place. -.. so I
won't let you commit such a blunder I won't let
you go, no, I won't not let you, Lili. children, tell
this fool! "
Lili burst into tears, her brother and her sister

screamed:
"You can't leave us, Lili, we'll keep you with us,
Lili."
Bertie even grabbed the large kitchen knife which

was lying on the table:
"If Totole comes sneaking again around here, I'll
sort him out. "
"We need to get back home," Lucie said
"But - please stay for dinner. It's not every day
that we see each other. We have beef. Dinner
time, dinner time! "
Everyone rushed to help set the table. This gave a

new excuse for Bertie and Rosa to quarrel. The
lamp almost fell to the ground. After unity was
restored, they all sat down. Charlotte was seated
between Armandine and Lucie. Although
Charlotte seemed very confused by her new
friends' strange behaviour, she ate with a more
appetite than the day before. Armandine said to
her:
"Look here, Charlotte, I may call you that, since

we'll be colleagues. You see, lifes not always a
rose garden, but together, I and the children,
united in the evening - lit up by the same lamp -
that has always warmed the cockles of my
heart. When there was nothing on the plates, I
would tell my brood: 'you've come to this world
without asking for it, you can't do you want, but
you what do you can. I've not been able to provide
you with an education, and I didn't have any
myself. ' When I was little, there were just
beatings but the educated ones, they just pose,
pretending to be the bee's knees but look closer -
They don't manage any better than us. One
should never despise. in order to judge someone,
you have to know their circumstances, and who
can do that for everyone? We are together,
children, let's stay together as long as we can. Is
not that right, Lili darling? "
Lili was still crying:

"I love him, mother, I don't ever want to leave
you, but I can't help myself."
"I understand that, my darling. You were sick,
you've never been in love with anyone, the first so
to speak, 'inherits everything'. You don't see
things clearly, and the same goes for him: they
have always hit him. So he is infatuated by your
kindness but think about our situation. If you end
up pregnant, no one will be able to help you out.
Explain it to her, Lucie."
"When youre in love " -Lucie started
At that moment, Bertie brought an apple tart, and

he put it at the centre of the table:
"No, hens, love is so boring! Do you all have
cholera or do you want us transform us into crying
fountains? If you don't start singing soon, I'll
scarper. "
Armandine started to sing the romance of Heloise

and Abelard with a shrill tremolo. During the
refrain everybody raised their glasses, toasted
each other and repeated:
" Alas, Mama ! Alas, Papa ! "
Charlotte was listening and observing, she

remained quiet and serious. Armandine laughed:
" Charlotte, perhaps you have a loved one too? "

" Oh , Madame ! "
Outraged, Lotte blushed. Great amusement

around the table.
" So much the better, girl, so much the better - stay
a child as long as you can, the rest will come
sooner than your pension. "
And again she started singing:
" Soon, I had two lovers,

One was young, the other was old. "
At ten clock, Lucie and Charlotte wanted to leave.

Armandine stood up on a chair, and brought out a
lamp from the top drawer of the cupboard. she
gave it to Charlotte as a gift. Bertie said that he
would complain to the caretaker for cutting off the
gas at ten clock on the dot -wasn't that a terrible
thing to do? Then he climbed on the handrail, and
slid all the way downstairs. He accompanied the
girls to the omnibus.
In her small room, well tucked in her bed,
Charlotte was unable to sleep for a while. She felt
that she had become another human being. She
was alone, all alone. In her mind, she reviewed the
events of the day. The previous day was already
far behind, and nothing tied her to her future. She
did not even try to predict what was going to
happen. Everyone had been friendly with her, she

could not complain. As Lucie had said when she
hugged her on the doorstep:
"You see my little lamb, many girls would like to
be in your shoes, even if you're still in trouble."
The building was quiet, nothing could be heard

except a faint creak from time to time. Charlotte
sat up and listened, feeling a bit uneasy. then she
fell into light sleep, she dreamed that she was
leaning over the black water - deep at the bottom
yellow flowers were shimmering. Around her,
people were making a lot of noise. She did not like
that - this dirty water! - she fell into - found herself
on the floor, so she got back into her bed again,
and fell asleep again. Mother was screaming:
'Your lover, your lover'. Lucie was kind.
Armandine loved her children, Lili was sweet,
and they all had lovers.
chapter 07
Dcoiffer's manufactured foliage and flowers and

mainly sold them to small suppliers and milliners.
When the founders were young, it used to be a
very important business, but now it was declining.
The successors were both in their sixties and they
had trouble keeping the business afloat. The wife
dealt with the sales on the square, in the winter, a
porter accompanied her; during the dead season
in the summer, the porter was sent away. The
husband remained in the workshop where he cut,
moistened and prepared the work for the flower-
makers.
Mr Ernest Dcoiffer was a grey-haired man; he

was tall, thin, and had regular features. He used to
be a handsome young man and he liked telling
that a very rich lady wanted to take him away
when he was playing the violin in the salons that
his family was frequenting. He had studied music
at the Conservatoire and he had dreamed of
becoming a musician. He was proud to have met
Princess Mathilde; he praised Napoleon III's
Empire because people then knew how to throw
parties. He was convinced that he could have been

as good as Massenet or he could have become a
painter like his brother Louis. Louis' paintings
must have been on par with Raphael's because
when the painter died, he left a pretty fortune to
his widow who subsequently broke all contact
with the Dcoiffers; she found them too common.
When Mr Dcoiffer was telling that story, he
blinked and looked at his wife Annette. He,
Ernest, was well-respected by his family and
especially by his mother's. The latter was a
matriarch who ruled the house with an iron rod.
After the death of the father, she ordered Ernest to
take charge of the business and he sacrificed his
genius. Then, tired of having oppressed husband,
children, son and daughter-in-law, for years, she
retired to live on her savings. Despite everything,
life bode well for Ernest, thanks to his vivid
imagination and his artistic tastes which the florist
trade did not prevent him to use, he would not
become famous, but he could become wealthy.
But then he met Annette.
Annette was one of his workers, a young and

swanky girl from Bordeaux. As Ernest was not a
strong-willed man, he had not found the courage
to marry Annette nor throw her out when his
mother was alive. Yet, Annette was running the
place. So when mother Dcoiffer came to visit her
son - and this happened three or four times a week
- Annette locked herself in a closet inside the
workshop which the workers unlocked after the

mother's departure. Between his mother and his
mistress, poor Ernest lived in perpetual fear of
some disaster. His mother had always terrorized
him and his mistress had seduced him. Initially,
Annette thought that she had made a good deal;
later she found out that this was not the case: For
twenty years, Ernest, usually such a stickler for
conventions, had forgotten to marry Annette. In
the end, Annette became Mrs Dcoiffer. That day
Ernest thought that he made the greatest possible
sacrifice, conferring her an honor that
many envied and yet none else had been
suitable. Annette's confidence soared up to the
skies.
Work was fun. There was Julie, a small woman

aged fifty, she was a little chubby and dressed in
black with a small white collar around her neck.
Her hair was still black, dripping with pomade, on
both sides of the forehead it formed kiss curls. She
usually missed work once every three days. On
those days, she suffered from colics. Armandine
claimed that this happened because Julie ate her
food without having anything to drink in order to
save money. She worked very slowly and hardly
earned more than one franc fifty a day.
Nevertheless, she managed to buy face-powder,
rouge and eye-pencil to make up her face; she had
very small, auburn eyes and almost no eyelashes,
nor eyebrows.
Martha was a charming, seventeen-year old girl.

She was tall, well-built, with nice, brown, wavy
hair which shimmered in copper tones. Her face
was matt and white, with regular features and a
small nose. Her small lips were always open and
formed a mocking, ambiguous smile. She had
wonderful black eyes, their glance was almost
unbearable. When it took her fancy, she asked Mr
Dcoiffer to assign a particular task to her and
even if he had not intended so; he would be eager
to do her a favour so that Martha averted her eyes
from him. she also had turned the carrier's
head, more than once the unfortunate man
returned with his boxes, and dropped them. He
was a tall, red-haired fellow, he was also married,
father of two children and constantly flirting with
her. When Martha was leaning out of the window
- soon men were gathering on the sidewalk.
Nobody knew any precise details about her. She
said that she was living near Javel with her mother
and her three brothers. The brothers drove around
and at night, they caught fish in the Rivers Seine
and Marne, with their nets. Martha also said that
she had a lover, 'in the slammer', in the Prison of
Poissy. She was proudly saying that apart from
her lover, she had never been with anyone under
ten francs, and, was only on the game, when it
suited her. "Heavies" wearing flat caps often
whistled after her under the windows. she said
that these were her brothers, she said. Sometimes,
she sold all sorts of things at ridiculously low

prices: purses, wallets for calling-cards, tie pins,
items from the department store. Everyone said
that her lovers had stolen those. When she opened
the collar of her blouse, a scar - of a knife wound
as they said - could be seen. Finally, people were
also gossiping that she had an abortion.
Nevertheless, Martha was well-respected and
much feared. She almost always seemed to have
money. Only she and Charlotte were wearing
hats. She was working quickly and well, but
irregularly, and only when she wanted. At noon,
when the others were eating their lunch, Martha
leaned out the window, although Annette
Dcoiffer had expressly forbidden it. If she saw
something of interest, she adjusted her hair, took
her hat, and shouted:
"Take what's in my bag, Fifi."
Initially, these hasty departures dismayed

Charlotte. But Armandine only laughed. Lili, lost
in her dream, was not surprised about anything;
Julie, Mrs Ravage and Mrs Toriol were morally
offended. The latter and Fifi completed the staff
at the workshop.
Josephine, called Fifi, who inherited Martha's

breakfast was certainly the poorest of all
creatures. She was twenty-eight years old and
repulsively filthy. The skin on her face and hands
looked sallow and mottled, almost like snakeskin.
She had delicate features. Her pale blue eyes

looked vacant. Her fair hair could be called
beautiful if it was not so covered in dust. The poor
thing has no abode, sleeping here and there at
friends. When no one wanted her, she stayed with
her sister, who was a peddler in the suburbs and
whose lover was a porter at the food market. They
made Fifi to sleep on the compost heap, between
baskets of fish and foods. Once, one night, she
poured a basket of crabs over herself. When she
told this story with a laugh, Charlotte shivered.
Fifi was almost always drunk. As soon as she had
earned fifty centimes, she asked to be paid, went
to the tavern downstairs and drank absinthe. She
was able to eat lunch only thanks to Martha's
generosity. When Fifi was quite young, she was
seduced by a man who abandoned her. She gave
her child up to adoption. Then she worked as a
maid in a hotel and a waiter became her lover. The
latter also had a relationship with the hotel owner
who dismissed Fifi. Then Fifi manufactured
powder puffs, and earned fifty centimes a day,
then she cleaned windows and mounted pictures
at a frame-maker's; at two francs daily, that job
was better paid but she had to put up with the
manager. The monster left her with child and sent
her away. When she worked as a kitchen-maid for
a household, she went into labour and was
accused of throwing her child into the oven. She
was arrested, sentenced to two years in prison.
Since then she had become insane. No one could
stand Fifi. When she ate, she was asked to go

outside. Only Armandine and Martha defended
her, arguing that she had never done anyone any
harm.
Armandine was getting a lot of respect, because

she was a nimble worker. The workshop could not
do business without her, so it meant that they were
listening to her. And they also had to take Lili into
account. Lili was sicker than Charlotte had
thought. She could not walk fast, nor climb stairs
without getting palpitations. Her lips and her
cheekbones were purple, almost black, due to a
heart condition. "A mysterious illness, we don't
know where its coming from," Armandine had
said. Everyone liked Lili, with the exception of
Julie and Mrs Toriol who did not like anyone.
They were interested about her illness and they
only knew that it had something to do with her
heart.
Mrs Ravage and Mrs Toriol represented the elite

of society: both were married in the eyes of the
law. Mrs Ravage was a tall, thin woman with
equine features. Her husband was a worker in a
sugar-factory on a ridiculously low wage; most of
the times, he did not work at all. Mrs Ravage had
six children. On Saturday, her husband came and
collected her wages. She gave everything to him.
Often, he also came during the week, inquiring
about the amount of money his wife would be
getting; every time, a grumpy Mr

Dcoiffer replied that that wages were only paid
out on one particular day. Sometimes, Mrs
Ravage's eldest daughter came, she was wearing
only a pink linen dress and she was shivering in
the cold. She was carrying her infant brother in
her arms. This was the most awful sight: The
young girl, thin hair, wax-colored face, swollen
eyes (all the children of Mrs Ravage, and herself
suffered from conjunctivitis.) and her little
brother, a poor, sickly, shapeless lump of flesh.
The sister was collapsing under the weight of the
frail bundle. The mother gave her fifty centimes
to buy bread. Martha sometimes slipped money to
her in secret:
" Don't let your father snatch it off you "
Mrs Toriol was thirty years old. She was tall and
strong, with a flushed face. Originally from
Belgium, she had come to Paris to work as a
housemaid. Her life seemed eventful
although she did not give many details about it,
only that she had trained as a florist by chance and
married a watchmaker. Her husband was fifty
years old, he had grey hair and he was sickly.
However, he constantly argued with the servants.
Mrs Toriol often rolled back her sleeves, so that
everyone could admire her arms. She hated
Martha because the girl never missed to scrutinize
the watchmaker, when the man came to pick up
his wife. Martha kept saying to Mrs Toriol that
she was exhausting him and nicknamed her

'Mother Bluebeard '
Thus, the workshop was divided into two sides:

the respectable part of society, Mrs Ravage and
Mrs Toriol as well as Julie, who used to be kept
by a rich man. The other side: Armandine and her
daughter plus Martha and Fifi . The first side
deeply despised the second; the latter was taking
revenge with laughter and perpetual banter. The
first side had the moral support of their
employers, however, the second side had
Armandine and that meant a great asset for the
business when there was a lot of work. Therefore,
they were always in a good mood. So the
Dcoiffers gave favours to the one or the other
side depending on the volume of orders, and they
were friendliest to the people they least respected.
Still surprised and bewildered, Charlotte only

spoke very little. She was getting acquainted with
workers. These women were like the ones she
used to meet when she herself was a small
employer and she needed to apologize when she
could not pay them on time. Charlotte could not
understand why her mother had so little respect
for them. That kind of behaviour, the way Lise
spoke always had made Charlotte feel
uncomfortable. Like everyone else whom she
had met so far, except for her teachers, there was
only one word, only one concern: money. Hunger
and love were the two driving forces of the

worker's actions. Mr Dcoiffer, Mrs Toriol and
Julie also wanted to feel better about themselves.
Charlotte had dark feelings, she felt that she was
even more worthless than everyone else. She was
very fond of Armandine and Lili. She felt
attracted to Martha because she was as young as
herself and because she was pretty. But Martha
also frightened her. She was intimidating and she
had power.
A prostitute's power would be frightening indeed,

if her desires reflected the true nature of our
world: Continually wavering between self-abuse
and saleability; Understanding how to sell and to
lie or the requirement to buy and being told lies.
But Martha's heart belonged to her Koko who was
a thief. She felt good about giving something
away and being sincere. As long as there were
prostitutes, there will also undoubtedly be pimps.
Rebelling against their own downfall, was their
raison d'tre at the side of these unfortunate
creatures. Hence they were suitable to embody an
ideal beyond their current misery, and, as
exploiters, they avenged their protgs from a
deeply inhuman society which allowed people to
be used as latrines. Martha's heart belonged to
Koko, who was in Poissy trapped in the slammer.
She proclaimed it proudly to Charlotte. When
Martha was absent and the workers spoke against
her (sometimes she only came back from lunch at
three in the afternoon), the confused Lotte heard

Armandine praising Martha:
" Indeed girls, yes, I tell you, because of that,
shes better than all of you. "
When business was pressing very hard, the

workshop employed two outside workers. Mrs.
Tardy came down from Belleville, sometimes
with her tall strong and arrogant son, nicknamed
'the Darling of Lilas' because he was known for
bedding several young ladies from that part of
town, a feat for which his mother showed great
pride. When she came with him, she shouted at
the door:
"I'm bringing my rooster, hide your hens. "
The lad made eyes at Charlotte. The young girl

was afraid and did not give him any reply. Martha,
who was sitting next to her, poked out her tongue
at the boy and pushed him away:
"Damn it, sweetheart, you don't bother a girl like
that. Can't you see that you are boring her, you big
eejit?"
The second worker was Mrs. Guerret, and she was
renting a room at Grange-aux-Belles, scraping
and surviving very frugally. She was a widow,
who had kept rather sad memories from her
marriage, and during each delivery, she kept on
talking about her wedding night and the terrible
disillusion experienced by young girls. Herself,
she had never recovered from hers when she saw
the next morning, when her husband got up, that

he had dirty feet.
When the workers arrived at about eight o'clock,

they met Mr Dcoiffer as he was sweeping the
workshop. He was always wearing a stained old
work-coat full of holes. He could afford a new
one, but he had no time, besides, when the
workers were teasing him, he bragged about his
wealth, by pinning banknotes over the holes. He
usually took the money out of the strong box the
day before wages were due. He loved telling
stories full of nasty innuendoes, Charlotte
watched him laugh and tried to make sense of
them, and, mostly, they had none at all. He also
mimicked a marionette, imitated the cries of
various animals, sang ignominies on melodies
from comic operas. Armandine usually sat by the
window watching for the Annette's arrival with
the carrier, and as soon as she saw them, she said:
"Shush, old man, your boss doesn't have your
sense of humour."
Annette worked in sales. In his days of prosperity,

her husband once saw a friend and, turned away
to avoid greeting him. Since then, he preferred to
let his old companion go out in all weathers and
procure orders. What would the clients with
whom Dcoiffer used to be on equal terms, think
of him if he had been his own usher? Besides,
Annette looked like a salesperson.
Once Annette was fairly tall, now her back was a

little bent. His face was wrinkled and her hair was
grey. She always wore a black hood lined with tea
roses and a Scottish plaid in red and green tartan.
She was prudish and irritable. Deep down, she
was a very kind woman. Every morning, before
leaving, she put a pot of stew on the stove for
the young Ravage girl - if she came - or for Lili,
who only drank the broth. She was fond of
Armandine's daughter and incessantly lectured
her about morals regarding Anatole telling her
that girls would never leave their mothers, if only
they knew.
"Yes boss," replied Armandine "I can't say that

you're wrong about it but in order to know, you
need to learn."
Usually, Annette left very early in the morning

with the porter - if he came - because he was
unreliable. When he did not turn up, she went to
Place du Caire and hired another porter. This was
where out-of-work porters and flower cutters met,
waiting for someone to come and hire them.
Annette regarded of all them as thieves,
scoundrels, only good for the hangman's noose,
and she thought the same about the clerks who
came to the house bringing commission
documentations or freight notes. She had a huge
black cat, Charlotte could not look at him without
thinking of her Minou; but he was very nasty and

hissed at everyone passing by. Before leaving,
Annette locked him up in her bedroom to prevent
the workers from teasing him. When she came
back, she opened the door again and the cat darted
after her.
"And there he is" Mr Dcoiffer muttered.
When Annette worked at the bench, the cat sat

next to her on a chair. Once he disappeared and
the whole house was in uproar. Everyone had to
look for that cat. Annette directed her anger at
those who could not be bothered searching and
especially against Armandine and Martha, who
were rolling with laughter. Then she remembered
that the clerk came to the workshop earlier that
day so surely he had taken the cat; at once, she put
on her hat and her plaid and went to claim it back.
Usually, these kind of incidents were greeted by
outbursts of laughing and since then no usher
failed to ask Annette about Cachemire's
wellbeing. On that day, when she came home
after a fruitless search outside, Annette found
Cachemire sleeping peacefully on his chair,
blissfully oblivious of his fame. So she assumed
that either Armandine or Martha, - the devil's
daughter - had hidden him.
"Look at this pretty lady, Im bringing to you."

Armandine had told Mrs Dcoiffer when she
introduced Charlotte to her.
Annette Dcoiffer stared at the young girl and,

muttered:
" Bugeot, Bugeot , I 've heard that name before. I
sold flowers to Bugeot's, it was a long time ago, I
think. Does it belong to your family?"
" No," the young girl replied; blushing because of

her lie. Since then Charlotte was always afraid to
hear the name of her father, when Annette spoke
about her sales.
chapter 08
Charlotte was vegetating inside her new home.

Now that she only needed to care about herself,
she had no plans for the future. She was living one
day at a time, hoping for nothing, thinking about
nothing. Sometimes she earned two francs fifty,
sometimes three francs a day. She repaid her
debts to Lucie. Now she owned a small mirror,
white curtains, she also purchased an alarm clock
at the store. She crafted a lampshade from
discarded pink shreds of silk from her cutting job.
Above her fireplace, there were several etchings
based on paintings from the Louvre, one of them
the "Man with the Glove", she had been impressed
by his serious appearance and his reflective look.
Indeed, for a few days, she had loved her little

room and decorating it all by herself. She had felt
childish when she came home and opened her
door. Now all this left her indifferent. She could
not stay up in the evening, because she had no fire
and it was too cold. She preferred to attend the
workshop at seven clock in the morning and get
started on any urgent work. Every evening, she
went to bed as soon as she returned home. She

could not fall asleep right away, indeed, for a long
time, she was lying with her eyes wide open in the
night. In the faint glow coming from the window,
she could make out the shapes of the objects in
her room. Once, in a corner on the floor, she
spotted her beloved books, those sad remnants of
her beautiful childhood dream. Full of remorse,
she lit her lamp again, she picked up a book, tried
to read, and then she cried because she was unable
to concentrate.
At first, she spent some evenings at Lucie's. Then,

one day, she met her friend's lover there who has
come over on vacation. He was a small, brown-
haired lad with a handlebar moustache and bright
eyes. Charlotte felt like as poor, weak prey in his
presence. When the young man put his hand on
her shoulders and on her chest, and then tried to
put them around her waist, she blushed, pushed
him back and cried for help. With a harsh voice,
Lucie said to the man:
"Leave her alone! "
After the man had left, the two friends were

embarrassed. Lucie, who had a womanly figure,
had always thought that Charlotte was just a child
with no curves. This is why she had protected the
young girl and never considered her to be a threat.
Her lover's behaviour changed her perception and
Charlotte's awkwardness did not reassure her, it
even annoyed her. And now Lucie concluded that

her friend was a hypocrite. Lucie was flirtatious,
proud of her successes and her curves. She was
sensual but not stupid: she realized her lover's
worthlessness and that he cost her half her wages.
She was suffering from being conscious of her
own gullibility. Therefore, how could an
innocent resist where she has failed? Lotte's
restraint felt like a provocation.
The good Lucie disappeared. Another woman

took her place. Not angry, but wary and
suspicious. She was looking for ulterior motives
in every word and every action. Charlotte was
painfully surprised, yet She did not begrudge
Lucie. She knew that she was a good woman. In
her mind, Lucie was still the compassionate fairy
from her early childhood. Therefore, Lotte
remained affectionate and kind, and once she
meekly tried to set things right:
"I must have offended you Lucie. You seem

different."
"Me, offended? Not at all, Little Lamb, it takes

much more than that to offend me. Go home, you
look tired."
Charlotte remained silent. Her recent experiences

taught her that it was easier to endure injustice
than to fight against it.
After that, when Lucie and Charlotte met, they

could no longer find anything to say to each other.
Charlotte tried to make conversation, read things
out and recall shared memories but her kindness
could not alleviate Lucie's pain. Then the young
girl only dared to visit from time to time. Finally,
she realized that Lucie did not care about her
visits so she did not go back.
Then she turned to Armandine. Most of the time,

Armandine cheerfully scolded at Charlotte
because she ate so little:
"You see, you need to fill up - otherwise you're

doomed."
Armandine shared her lunch with Charlotte and

Lili. Charlotte contributed thirty-five centimes
towards the food. Armandine said that this was
more than enough. At dinner-time, Charlotte went
to a creamery for a cup of milky coffee or hot
chocolate. If she was very hungry, she bought a
bowl of milk-rice and some soft-boiled eggs.
There was a lot of work to do, twice or three times
a week, so she visited Rue Oberkampf for an
evening home-shift. She contributed forty
centimes for dinner and they sang all evening.
Charlotte might have earned fifty centimes more,
but she needed to spend thirty centimes on the
omnibus as it was too far to walk and she was

afraid of the streets at night.
Armandine also looked after Charlotte's laundry.

Every Sunday morning, it was Rosa's task to clean
the clothes for the whole family and she only
asked for a small fee, just enough to cover her
expenses. Good accounting makes good friends,
was another principle of Armandine's. Thanks to
this arrangement, Charlotte was able to pay her
rent of three francs fifty every Saturday and save
some money.
Usually, at seven oclock in the evening, Totole

was waiting at the door at work. He was a strong
lad aged twenty; he was stocky and awkward. He
was fair-haired, beardless and white-faced. When
he greeted someone, his voice could barely be
heard and his eyes were stubbornly gazing at the
ground. One could think that he was devious in
fact, he was just very shy. From time to time,
Armandine allowed the lad, to take Lili back
home. She said:
"Not that I think it's funny. No, really, I don't find

this funny, he's quite stupid, but then, he's only
known beatings. So basically he's not a bad guy,
and I admit, we need to play fair with everyone. "
When he spoke to Armandine, Totole re-assured

her that he would never take her Lili away without
the consent of his future mother-in-law. Her

permission probably made him happy but his
immovable face did not show any sign. He shoved
Lili's arm under his own, and they left at a very
slow place, and stopped when Lili felt violent
palpitations. They looked at each other without
talking. Lili was happy and told her mother:
"You know, Mother, when he comes here, he
doesnt drink."
Bertie has made his peace with Totole: he gave

him a watch that he had won at target shooting.
Totole constantly took it out of his pocket and
scrutinized it. Charlotte could not repress a smile.
Yet poor Lili's health was not getting any better.

Every evening, Totole walked with the two
women back home, and he even picked them up
in the morning. One day, Armandine arrived at
about eleven o'clock at the workshop, her eyes red
from crying: she had just accompanied Lili to
hospital in a cab.
A great sadness weighed on Lotte's heart like a

lead cloak. She was very fond of
Lily. Armandine, anxious about her daughter,
seemed to abandon her young protg. She no
longer prepared lunch, as she was saving as much
as she could in order to bring treats to her sick
daughter. Work was also drying out.
In the flower-making business, even during high

season, periods of activity alternate with variable
periods of stagnation. In times of activity, wages
were too low to save for a contingent against
subsequent shortages, and in any case, nothing
could protect the workers against demoralizing
thoughts. Young people felt this even more
strongly because school had taught them to
occupy their minds at all times.
A rivalry started among the ladies at the

workshop; the first to arrive in the morning was
able to grab all the work for herself. Mr Dcoiffer
no longer greeted anyone, now he was constantly
muttering:
"Damn women, when there's work, they don't lift

a finger, when there's none, they all want to sleep
here."
Like a trapped old fox, he was scurrying from one

room to another, then he changed the daily
routine. He was waiting for all the workers to
arrive before allocating work to each one. It was
in his best interests to keep everyone in case
business picked up again. Only Fifi was excluded
from the deal.
Nevertheless, Fifi came, she laid her head on the

table and fell asleep. Martha gave her something
to eat. Mrs Toriol accused the boss of favoring

Armandine and she also could not understand
why there was work for Martha, who clearly had
other sources of income; Mrs Ravage and Julie
agreed with her. Martha explained that she came
here for her own entertainment, she vigorously
demanded her share and insisted that she would
miss the sight of the ladies. After completing her
task, she handed it to Armandine:
"For Lili."
Armandine accepted; she was moved by the

gesture.
But there were still moments of laughter at

Dcoiffer. When Armandine was accused of
hoarding all the work, she responded with a song.
Mrs Toriol followed suit and tried to reach the
high notes with her rough bulldog voice. She
sounded silly. Martha was rolling with laughter
and Charlotte could hardly contain herself.
They heard Mrs Toriol singing:

" Hi - hi - hi - "
"you you you - do you hear , " Armandine replied

, as if she wanted to pierce the ceiling.
Mrs Toriol continued with insults, then with

derision:
" This nose - this mouth . "
Her rival immediately sang back:

" Daddy gave it to me , Mummy gave it to me "
Mr Dcoiffer screamed:
"Enough, enough, women, youre driving us mad
"
Mrs Toriol replied:

" Let her sing, this bad mother. She sings in the
hope her daughter dies more quickly. "
With a leap, Armandine had reached Mrs Toriol.

A formidable fight ensued. Mrs Ravage and Julie
took refuge in the hallway. Father Dcoiffer
stayed in the kitchen; he did not dare to come any
nearer but he warned:
"I'm calling the police."
But he did not move from his spot. Charlotte tried

to take Armandine's goffering iron from her hand.
Martha pounded her feet and said:
" Scratch her eyes out, Armandine !"
Fearing for her safety, Mrs Toriol went face down

on the floor, and suffered a nervous attack.
Martha exclaimed:
"Wait - here comes the shower."
Armandine held down Mrs Toriol, while Martha

poured purple liquid, the entire contents of one-
liter bottle, over the woman's head when Mrs
Toriol stood up again, she was met with raucous
laughter. So she brushed with her hands against
her face, pulled them back, looked at them, roared
horribly and shouted insults at the bantering
workers. Martha shouted:
"Listen - at least it's not vitriol "
Armandine was laughing to tears.

"You're so pretty now, aren't you? "
Charlotte, her head hidden in her handkerchief

was almost suffocating. Only Fifi who has just
woken up, was there sitting with her mouth open,
unable to understand and yet she bore the brunt of
Mrs Toriol's rage. She shouted so many
obscenities at her, that the Dcoiffers decided to
throw her out. Martha implemented the task:
armed with a pair of scissors, she forced Mrs
Toriol to retreat into the stairwell; she was still
shouting egregious threats before she finally left
after draping a shawl over her head. Annette
compassionately had thrown the garment to her.
The old woman said:
"It's wrong to insult a mother."
Her husband agreed with her and on the spur of

the moment he forgot to complain about the
wasted dye. Martha was overjoyed, waltzing

around with Fifi, hugging her boss, and jumping
on the table. Mrs Ravage and Julie came back, and
also agreed that Mrs Toriol was a wretched
woman:
"It's wrong to insult a mother."
Everyone was satisfied: there was one less

worker. Charlotte became serious, and somewhat
disgusted, she listened to them. They envied her.
She was young, she could do something else. Mrs
Ravage complained that nobody took her children
into consideration. Martha said:
"Don't kid yourself, your children won't eat more

nor won't eat less. Admit it: your husband is a
drunkard!"
The porter was dismissed. Annette who liked

Charlotte because of her kindness, took the young
girl with her when a prospective client was
receiving salespeople. The boxes with the
samples were not heavy, but Charlotte was afraid
of a chance encounter with her father. She had
received a letter from Mother: the parents knew
where she was, they would bring her home if she
did not remain on the straight path. Charlotte was
not concerned about the threat and she was
determined to defend her freedom. She thought
about her mother and her sister, in the way a
crippled person would think of an amputated

limb long after an operation. It only hurt a little,
and usually it did so on a rainy day. But the
memory of her father, startled her. She was filled
with disgust, hatred and terror. Nevertheless, she
went with Annette. On such days, she was sure to
earn one franc.
Fortunately for Charlotte, unlike Bugeot's,

Dcoiffer's mainly dealt with American clients.
Therefore, the chances of meeting the father, were
quite low. The salespeople needed to arrive early
in the morning, then wait for their turn; under a
doorway or sitting on the stairs. There were men
who called out at each other while smoking and
spitting. In the presence of the young girl, they
were telling nasty, stupid stories. They came close
to her because they noticed that she was
embarrassed. Annette was protecting her; when
Totole was there, he looked after the two women,
helping them to keep their spot. Sometimes a
surprised salesman who used to visit Porcher's
recognized Charlotte and greeted her.
Sometimes, a well-dressed saleswoman came, she

was accompanied by several porters carrying
several boxes of different sizes. She sent her
business card and the client received her
immediately, afterwards everyone else was told to
go home. There were loud protests and
complaints against this competition, the
gentlemen were right to say that this treatment

was unfair. Yet they did not realize that their own
behaviour was to blame: Once such a woman was
stabbed in the back when she walked through the
door. Her name was Blanche. The men who told
the story laughingly boasted that they had slept
with her. Her shoulders were as famous as the
pretty fold in her neck, which they called 'Venus'
necklace'.
Charlotte spent the rest of the time at the

workshop knitting woolen socks, - a skill that she
had learnt from Henriette Pageol; and now she
was teaching Martha. These socks were intended
for Koko in Poissy. In exchange for those, Martha
brought some lace and crafted a cravat for
Charlotte, whose clothes she found too dour. At
work, the other ladies had left the workshop
because they did not find anything else to
do. Only Julie came to see whether the boss had
left something for his workers. Fifi was also be
there and she slept most of the time. Charlotte and
Martha took refuge as far as possible from the two
women in order to chat without being disturbed.
Increasingly confused, Charlotte gradually

surrendered to Martha's influence. She had spent
all her savings, and was horrified when she could
not pay the rent for that week. Thanks to Lucie's
recommendation, the landlords trusted her. Now
she blamed herself because she had spent her
money on new underwear and a jacket costing

twenty-nine francs. She was listening to Martha
advising her to take a lover who would give her
money. Martha claimed that if only Charlotte
made an effort, she would be successful because
all the men were attracted to her:
"The first time - my poor Lolo, it's not fun, but

you won't die. Just be careful that you don't end
up getting pregnant. "
"And then?"
"After what?"
"After the first time?"
"After that, you get used to it, you don't want that
feeling to last forever."
Charlotte remained silent, she seemed to think

thoroughly. Poverty was not her biggest
misfortune; her loneliness was. Being lonely was
not the same thing as living alone: it meant living
without a goal, without knowing why; it meant
not finding any connection with anyone else, not
finding any common aspirations and assuming
that everything is hostile, and not even having the
courage to hate, which as everyone knows is
useless.
Like Charlotte, Martha detested men and her

hatred was insane. Martha had empowered herself
as well as she could. She made only one
exception, because that man was a victim, an
innocent man, a wrongly convicted man. Martha

was certain about that, and nobody doubted her.
Neither she nor her comrades realized that if
Koko turned up, this might spell the end of her
illusions and their relationship. Martha only lived
to exploit all other men to the death. She thought
of herself as a femme fatale, an exterminator, who
drove men to their ruin and to suicide. She had
read about those in moral novels by tuppence
writers. In any case, she certainly had intrinsic
gifts of adaptation, an inventive spirit, a
superficial cheerfulness which never seemed to
fade. Without any reservations, Mr
Dcoiffer predicted a nice career for her, provided
that Koko did not throw a spanner in the works.
In the meantime, they had to make ends meet.

Therefore, in the evening at about five clock,
Martha dragged Charlotte with her to the big
boulevards. The two girls stood by the shop-
window displays in front of the department store
or the jewellers'. Martha had great appeal, men
easily followed her and started a
conversation. Some used obscene words, or
brutally offered money. Others made an effort to
embellish their speeches. Martha dismissed them
all, always hoping for the elusive serious type to
come along. At about seven clock, she felt that
they could come to some kind of arrangement
over dinner. She even turned down the most
advantageous offers, because they had no male
companions. Invariably, pale and trembling,

Charlotte slipped away. Not getting any dinner
was not a big deal, she was never hungry. Maybe
she could have considered men who were polite,
but Martha did not want her to do that. They
would use her without paying. Charlotte was
capable to fall for one of those, and end up on her
own with child more miserable than before.
Martha could sing a song about it; her first time
was with a so-called student who raped her in the
woods of Chaville while reciting poems to her. He
abandoned her to her fate.
When Martha found someone to her liking, she let

Charlotte make her excuses. The girl had not
learnt anything. Once Martha was concerned
about the young girl not getting any dinner but
Charlotte explained, that she was feeling sick and
started to run back home. An individual who had
stopped Martha earlier, followed her but gave up
soon. Charlotte was out of breath when she
reached home.
On another night, Charlotte accompanied Martha

to the ball, Martha tried in vain to persuade her
friend to stay. The next morning, at work, she
offered money to her but Charlotte declined. Why
was she so defensive? She did not disapprove of
the idea, because in her opinion, she would end up
doing this because there was nothing else for her
in this life. But as soon as she arrived home, she
carefully double-locked her door, and breathed

like a condemned man who had been granted a
short respite. She lied down on her bed, and
buried her face in the pillow - just sleep, sleep.
The next morning, she hardly tidied up, and
barely found the courage to get dressed for work.
She tried to rationalize, by repeating to herself
that she was lost anyway. Everyone ended like
this! She accused herself of cowardice, just like
that time when she stood in front of the dark
water. She envied Martha. At least, Martha knew
what she wanted and lived for something, but
what was the point? Then she envied Lili - Lili,
who would die soon.
Every Thursday and every Sunday, Charlotte had

visited the sick girl with Armandine. At the
entrance they met Totole, Bertie and Rosa. Often
Martha accompanied them and brought biscuits
and oranges with her. Totole and Charlotte
brought bunches of violets.
Lili was allowed to do as she pleased. her mother

was allowed to visit her every day. She was
lying in a small white bed at the end of a large
ward. Charlotte walked through on her tiptoes
even though everyone else was noisy. Sad and
anxious, she briefly glanced at the other beds
which lined each side of the ward. Some patients
had numerous visitors. The smell of phenol made
her stomach turn, and she felt dizzy, she had to
restrain herself from stupidly weeping at the sight

of a patient who had no visitors.
Lili hardly recognized anyone and did not speak.

She merely took Totole's hand and tried to smile
at him. Her mother was sitting on the other side
of the bed, chatting cheerfully to her. The brother
and the sister told stories, pretended to argue, and
told about the others. Martha and Charlotte
replied. Bertie crossed his arms and said:
"Na - old bean- are you not impressed? There you

are hosting your own salon. The only thing
missing is the laxative water"
This is how Bertie called the tea that they

drank only on special occasions at Armandine's
house.
On that Thursday only Totole and Charlotte

accompanied Armandine. Martha did not come to
the workshop. All three agreed that Lili was
getting better - although her breathing sounded
more laboured than usual; She was sitting upright
in her bed. Armandine told her: she had
informally adopted Totole, he was sleeping in the
same room as Bertie:
"I told him - that way you will get some peace -
and you'll have someone to talk to about our
Lili. That way he'll also get used to the

household"
Lili reached her hand to her mother. Armandine

bended down, and pushed Totole away. The
young girl collapsed:
"Mother"
Armandine held her and craddled her:
"Lili, my little Lili."
Then she laid her down on the pillow, closed her

eyes and in a muffled, trembling voice, she said
to Totole, without looking at him:
"You should go home, my boy. It's your usual
time. Lili is asleep, give her a kiss, but don't wake
her up."
Shyly, Totole barely touched Lili's forehead, he

said:
"She's cold".
He did not unterstand why. Charlotte held back

her tears, knelt down, and kissed Lili's limp hand.
She left and led Totole; silent and docile, he
followed her and like her he felt the need to walk
through the ward on tiptoes.
On the same evening, Charlotte had an

appointment with Martha at the end of the
Chausse Clignancourt. Together, they were
going to the Moulin-Rouge. Martha had bought

tickets.
Charlotte dressed herself with care: she had made

up her mind. Her father had defiled her, he had
dishonored her. Yet, all things considered, he did
not do much harm and her mother was right to tell
her not to pay too much importance to it. On the
contrary: he had done her a favour, now there was
no reason to hesitate. What was she going to do
anyway? What could she expect? Maybe she
would be lucky? In any case - her fate could not
be worse than what happened to the women she
had known. Only Armandine had managed to
love without inspiring fear and disgust. But
Madame Porcher loved and she killed himself.
Lucie loved and her man exploited her. Lili was
fortunate. Now she was dead - that was a blessing
- because she would never experience what life
had in store for her. When Charlotte remembered
the poor girl's swollen face, she shivered. Dying -
this could be an option if she didn't succeed or if
she had a bad pregnancy. Martha was wrong, it
was possible to terminate. Now Charlotte
remembered a remedy, which Mother took at the
start of her pregnancy. Mother became ill and At
the time, Charlotte did not understand what was
going on. Mother had told a story about the milk
being off but it had not harmed anyone else in the
house, and when the little girl had questioned her,
Mother had replied:
"Leave me alone. I took a laxative."
To pass the time, Charlotte put her mirror on her

knees. Martha could always be sure that someone
would fall for her. But men rarely followed her
companion, when she was alone. Was she not
pretty? Martha claimed the contrary, but told her
that her dour expression was not engaging. Men
had no patience, you caught them, you needed to
hang on to them. If she was cheerful and well-
dressed, Charlotte would be irresistible. She could
start being cheerful, later she might also be well-
dressed.
Charlotte stood up. She was of average height, a

little too slender; her gait was graceful and supple.
Her dress and her jacket were dark, with a white
embroidered collar and a blue silk tie, this suited
her. She put her hat on, it was black and plain.
Again she picked up her mirror and studied her
face. A small, matt, white, genuine Parisian face,
very expressive; beautiful big, sad eyes of
changing color; her curls were the envy of the
women at the workshop, a cute mouth, which
could be charming if her lips were pinker.
Charlotte was absolutely adorable when she
laughed. Mr Dcoiffer has told her so. Indeed, she
hated men as much as Martha did. Could not she
find the courage and look cheerful?
Martha was waiting impatiently. She was

annoyed at useless passers-by who were staring at
her. She was wearing a black dress with a black
hat, because black enhanced the colour of her
hair; that night, she was also wearing a red bolero
jacket. She looked stunning; there was something
demonic about her; her eyes looked
phosphorescent:
" Come on, girl, none's going to eat you alive. You
look like you're going to a funeral. "
" Lili is dead."
"Ah!" Martha said.
She made a gesture as if to say "such a shame";

she paused ... then she dragged her companion
with her.
chapter 09
"Well, young lady, since we both have been

deserted, I think it would be best if you allowed
me to help you out of here."
Martha and Charlotte had walked up the

boulevard where they had been approached by
various men. Martha had laughed while explained
to each of them that she was waiting for her Prince
Charming. Old women berated her but Martha
who was in a good mood, merely
shrugged. Charlotte's own thoughts had been
gloomy. Due to the noise inside the Moulin-
Rouge, she was not able hear any conversation
and Martha had started to resent her silence.
Suddenly, Martha had called out to a young,

slender, fair-haired man. He was quite tall and he
looked like a dreamer. First he seemed annoyed
and bored then he smiled and turned to his
comrade; the latter was more adventurous: he put
his arm around Martha's shoulders:
" What are my beautiful ladys wishes?"
Martha had let him touch him, however, she had

kept looking at the fair-haired young man . The
latter had been looking at Charlotte and saying a
few words to her. Charlotte did not seem to
understand. The companion said:
"Leave my friend alone, my pretty, he's not
suitable for you. Is that girl with you? "
"Yes, she is."
" What do you think, Lethor? "
" I - I don't know but you can go. "
"As you wish, my friend. She's pretty but she
seems dumb."
Martha had spoken up:

" She'll talk, as long as you're not nasty to her."
Lethor had seemed surprised but he kept smiling.

He bid Martha farewell by kissing her hand, then
he shook his friend 's hand:
"Now, off you go."
Now Charlotte wanted to sink deep into the

ground. She had thought about running away, yet
she could not find the courage to do so . Behind

her, a few men and a tall red-haired woman were
gesturing and laughing. Her new companion was
scrutinizing her, and he did not seem inclined to
let her go. When she did not provide any answer
to his suggestion to leave the Moulin-Rouge, he
took her hand and led her out.
Charlotte found herself in a horse cab next to a

gentleman who was as taciturn as she herself.
Then she could hear that he was asking her to get
out of the cab, and not to be afraid. He led her into
a caf and they sat down at a table. It was
pleasant: There was no one around them yet
through the windows they could see many people,
and the comings and goings of the vehicles in the
street.
"Would you like a glass of beer, Miss? "

"If you wish."
" You look unwell. Would you prefer to have
some dinner, or perhaps want you like some tea?"
Charlotte blushed:
"No, thanks."
"No? But I'm hungry. Don't let me eat alone. "
To the waiter's astonishment, he ordered tea,

bread, butter and soft-boiled eggs. When the food
arrived, he asked Charlotte:
"Do you often visit the Moulin-Rouge, Miss?"
"Oh no, I don't."

"So it's the first time. "
"Yes, it is."
"Same here. Lucky us. I was really bored and you
didnt seem very enthusiastic either. Have
something to eat, Miss, I believe you are very
confused and that you'll regain your composure
once you eat something. I don't want you to cry in
here."
Later, as the cab drove them through the Bois de

Boulogne, he said:
"Now you are free to cry - don't be afraid of me,
this is making me - really uncomfortable I don't
know much about these things and I may sound
foolish to you...But I - I don't - how can I say it? -
have any bad intentions. I thought that you looked
like a small bird that fell out of its nest and
couldn't fly away. I just thought I could be of any
help to you. I'm eighteen years old, how old are
you? "
"I'll be seventeen soon. "
" Are you all alone in Paris?"
"Yes, I am."
"But you're not a student? "
"Oh no I'm not."
"So you're working then?"
"I am flower-maker."
"You're binding bouquets. That must be nice. But
surely, you don't earn very much?"
"Oh yes, I do, but the wages are not regular."

"How much do you call a lot?"
"Three francs."
"A day? And not regularly .... Is your mother still
alive?"
"No, she isn't."
"Same here -. I've never known mine, but the
woman who took me in, she taught me to believe
in infinite goodness. I wish could speak as
convincingly as her but I wanted to let you how
I'd be happy, if I hadn't met you in vain. I want to
see you again, talk to you when you have regained
your composure. You're crying! I'm so clumsy.
You don't want to? "
"Yes, I do."
"Then let me hold your hand."
He took her hand, and kissed it. His lips were soft.
Now Charlotte was holding a flat object between
her fingers; she guessed that it might be a calling-
card case or a wallet. He said:
"My address is inside. Keep it, and don't lose it.
Now, I may ask you to tell me where I can drive
you home."
With a trembling voice, she told him her name,

her street and her house number. He opened the
carriage door, leaned out, stomped with his foot,
because the driver was talking to someone else.
Then he asked:
"Are you sure you arent sick? Would you like to

eat anything else? "
"No, thanks."
"When may I see you again? This Saturday night
perhaps? "
"Yes, please."
"At what time do you finish?"
"At seven."
" Can I pick you up? "
"Yes, please."
Charlotte told him the name and address of her

employer.
" Is that a shop? Can I come inside?"

" No, it's a workshop on the fifth floor."
Her voice showed signs of restlessness, he took

notice:
"Forgive me, would you prefer, if I waited
outside? Saturday, at seven oclock, is that a deal?
"
"Yes, it is."
"Thank you. Have a rest. We 'll be there soon. "
Alone in her room and still dressed, Charlotte

threw herself on her bed, broken by pain, shaking
with anger, she sobbed violently. Then she felt
some relief: all the despair and bitterness from the
past three months had gone. She lit her lamp and
opened the wallet. It was square, made of stained-
green Moroccan leather. It contained a business
card which read:
Henri Lethor - Rue d'Assas No - Paris 6
The wallet also contained two twenty-franc coins,

and about ten francs in small change. Barely two
hours ago, Charlotte had gone out thinking that
she needed to pay almost with her life to get the
money that she needed; - and that man gave it to
her for nothing - and how fast! Without being able
to explain it, this realization threw her into
despair.
She felt intolerable pain and disgust because she

blamed herself for accepting alms from a stranger,
and she felt anger against the whole set of
circumstances that had led her to that
situation. She had a terrible need to tear, to break,
and to throw away everything including herself.
When she had exhausted herself, she calmed
down. She thought about all this and decided
never to do this again, moreover, she decided not
tell Martha about the whole adventure, as she
was certain her friend would not understand.
The next day, Annette found her 'little worker', as

she liked to call her, so upset, that she gave up on
her intention to go out and shared her stew with
her for lunch. Julie and Mrs Ravage only stayed

during the morning. Martha did not come, and
there was little work to do. Armandine was absent
as well. Bertie came before closing time to tell
that Lili would be buried the next day at three
o'clock. Charlotte spent a quiet day and a half and
she was only disturbed by the anxious thought, of
meeting her benefactor again. She thought she
would not recognize him, anxiously, she wished
that he would not come the next day.
Martha arrived on Saturday, at one o'clock,

singing and dancing and looking more dolled up
than ever. Charlotte and Fifi were alone in the
workshop. Martha began by asking the latter:
"Have you eaten?"
Fifi grunted a barely audible "yes" and pointed at

Charlotte. Martha said:
"A fine mess, girl, this is the work of a man. Well,
you're better anyway. See, I wanted to go look for
you because the other guy did not want me. All
the same, I'm happy to see you. With you, we
never know what's going to happen next. So the
handsome fair boy didn't eat you alive? "
Charlotte made a vague gesture, and did not

answer.
"Young lady, you played a dirty trick on me; what

difference did it make to you anyway, and I liked
that kid, I thought this would have worked out

fine for me. But, bah! You're like a cork in a river,
you go where the current takes you. I'm not
jealous, to each their own luck. My point is that
you will never know how to turn things to your
advantage. I bet you don't know what he does? "
"No, I don't."
"His companion told me that he is very rich,
Anarchist you know - one of these people who
throw bombs - I quite like the idea. So beware,
this customer is full of tricks, he will try to convert
you, make you join the Salvation Army. His
companion also told me that."
Charlotte said as much to divert the conversation

as to share information:
"Martha, Lili's funeral is at three o'clock."
"Ah, good job that I came. Do you have enough
dough, Charlotte?"
"Yes, I do."
"Don't blush, my girl, there is no need to with me.
I just wanted to know if you were managing
alright. Is Fifi coming to the funeral?"
"Do you think we should bring her?"
Mr Dcoiffer said as he was entering:

"Do with her as you please, but I don't want her
here on her own. And where have you been, you
hussy?"
"My friend, if someone asks, you can always tell

them that you don't know."
Martha stuck out her tongue at him, then she

combed her hair, took off her blue cravat and her
white gloves because she did not feel that they
were appropriate for a funeral. She put them in a
package so that she could wear them later, as she
was going out in the evening, then she gave fifty
centimes to Fifi. When Fifi had left, Charlotte
said:
"You're wrong, you know shes going to buy a
drink."
"Just because she does not have any other
pleasures, why should we deprive her of it?"
The girls went downstairs. En route to the funeral,

they bought white roses. Then, a little further on
the way, Martha asked:
"Are you going to see him? "
"Yes, I am."
"When?"
"I don't know."
"I bet you cried like a baby the whole time, that
must have been fun for the guy. He'll balk and
youll never see him again. "
"Do you think so?"
This time, Martha laughed, and with such a hearty

laugh that passers-by turned their heads at her and
that one of them stopped to look at her.
They arrived at Lariboisire. Although

Armandine did not live in the area, the hospital
had treated her daughter, thanks to the
recommendation of Rosa's former employer who
knew one of the doctors. Martha and Charlotte
entered a room on the ground-floor, where they
met Armandine, Totole, Bertie and Rosa, all in
their work clothes. The other two sisters did not
come, neither did Armandine's old man, but he
had sent a crown made of beads. Two bunches of
violets brought by the brother and sister were on
each side of the crown. The day before, Bertie had
visited Julie and Mrs Ravage at home to gather
people for Lili. Nobody knew where to find
Martha, but now things had worked out well.
Armandine kissed her companions, her face was

puffier than usual and she was not crying. with
hesitation, she asked:
"Would you like to see her?"
"Yes, I would."
She led them to the coffin. There, the girls stepped

back in horror. The coffin was, almost closed, and
they could only see Lili's unrecognizable
face. Very pale, Martha leaned over the coffin
and kissed the dead girl's forehead:
"Goodbye kid, we'll all go where you're going."
Armandine held back Charlotte:

" You've already said goodbye. "
Totole, then asked to put his bouquet in the coffin

itself next to Lili,- a humble bouquet which cost
five centimes like the ones he used to bring her.
Armandine helped him.
Then the dreadful box was closed and covered

with a black cloth - and the procession walked
behind the chariot on which it rested. Armandine
and Bertie went first with Totole between them,
they each held one of his arms; Martha, Charlotte
and Rosa walked behind them. Rosa's face was
crimson-red because she had wept so much, and
she was choking in her tight buttoned-up blouse.
Behind them, Julie and Mrs Ravage were chatting
trying to guess who bought the crown of pearls
and those white roses, this was money
wasted because the girl was going to be buried in
a mass grave.
Martha turned to the two women:
"Enough huh, shut up!"
They went to Saint-Ouen cemetery. Walking

silently, absorbed by her thoughts, Charlotte was
thinking about her protector. At times she felt
Martha's shiny eyes staring at her, so she
interrupted her train of thoughts, soon she fell
back into the same daydream. Certainly, Martha

was right, he would not come. Why should he
come back? He was rich; the money he had given
her did not meant much to him. He said
'Saturday', but he looked surprised when she
refused his offer to pick her up at her workshop.
She had been foolish, she had thought he would
find the workshop too shabby, and she had feared
the ladies' jokes and banter and Mr Dcoiffer
might have laughed at her. He had not insisted,
and obviously this meant that he had no intention
of coming back and that he was only kind out of
pity. She remembered that he seemed very
anxious to arrive at their destination, and that she
had not behaved very well, so why should he wish
to start this all over again? Finally, she was
probably ugly that night because no one is pretty
when they cry, and when she arrived home she did
not think of checking herself in the mirror.
Only two days ago, she was merely tortured by

the idea of not being able to pay her rent, thus
creating trouble for Lucie Parent whom she had
not heard from; Charlotte had dreaded to become
homeless again with all her meagre possessions
which meant a lot to her. Where would she have
been able to go? Since then, she found some
reassurance and was determined not to return to
the Moulin Rouge. A few hours ago, animated by
great courage, she was convinced that she could
make ends meet by living frugally. The only
drawback, was that she would have to see this

Henri Lthor, whom she did not dare to look at.
Now that she was obsessed by the idea that
perhaps he would not come, she felt suddenly
very, very weary and discouraged.
When they passed the cemetery gates, they

needed to walk further ahead. Finally, the convoy
stood still before a ground divided into horizontal
rows. A grave was open, and inside there was
already one coffin. Two men lowered down Lili's
coffin. The guests all decided to throw all their
flowers down to Lili.
Now, it was all over. Together they went back the

same way. Rosa sobbed convulsively. Armandine
and Bertie remained calm. Totole was still
walking with them neither speaking nor crying,
his eyes glued to the ground. Charlotte, her hand
on Martha's, let herself be led, she was thinking
of Lili and the young man. Mrs Ravage's and
Julie's chattered incessantly and deplored the
wasted flowers. Their surprise increased when
they saw Armandine, who had kept the crown of
pearls, drop the object at the foot of green bush
beneath which all the anonymous bones were
interred there after reburial. She said:
" This will be her final resting place."

At the door, they all separated. Armandine and

her children returned home where the old man
was waiting for them to have dinner. They also
invited Totole, Charlotte and Martha to come
along. Mrs Ravage and Julie left together. The
two girls remained on their own, Martha said:
"Kiddo, I admit that your guy looked very nice

but falling in love at first sight, you have to be
crazy. If you had any common sense worth ten
centimes, you would come with me now... Put this
into your head: your heart is sick, this feeling will
pass and you'll be 'vaccinated'. Perish the thought
that this happens to me again. All men are crooks.
Come with me for dinner. Don't go all
sentimental on me - beware - it will cost you
dearly. Sure you're not coming with me? "
" No, Martha. "
"I assure you, my boy is on his own. He won't flirt
with you. Hes afraid that I'll abandon him and
marry a rich guy. "
" No, thanks, Martha, Id prefer to go home. "
" But surely not on foot? "
Charlotte hesitated:
"No, of course not."
Martha stepped into a cab after hugging the young

girl, advised her to have some dinner and to sleep
well the next day and stay in bed all day. Charlotte
left on foot. She disliked wasting money. In order
to find some peace of mind, She had come to the

conclusion that he would not come.
Charlotte only arrived at the workshop at about

six o'clock. Fifi was gone. Mr Dcoiffer was
reading the "Petit Journal". He had prepared the
materials for a new order. Annette told Charlotte:
"I'll bring it over on Monday morning, finish it

tonight, my girl, and don't let the others know ."
That last hour did not seem to end. Charlotte did

not allow herself to look at the clock, nor go to the
window. When the clock struck seven, she was
startled even if she had anticipated it. She
adjusted her hair, as if she wanted to go out with
Martha.
She went downstairs. There was nobody outside

the door so she waited for five minutes or so, and
they seemed as long as centuries. Then she
quickly walked away. She almost felt
relieved. As she was walking around the corner
of Rue Montmartre, her eyes flickered, she felt as
if she had received a blow to her chest; A voice
whose caresses she immediately recognized was
calling:
" Miss Charlotte! "
She bravely reached her hand out to him, he shook

it:
"Are no longer angry at me? "

"Angry at you? I need to ask you for your
forgiveness. "
" I think it's pointless to waste our time mutually
begging for forgiveness. I'm very happy to see
you. If you feel the same, come with me. "
They walked towards the boulevards. He walked

very fast as this was a habit of his. He stopped two
or three times, to allow his companion to catch up,
then he continued at the same pace; after a few
more steps, he said:
" Do you wish to dine, Miss Charlotte? "
"I don't know."
" Dont you ever go to restaurants? "
"No sir, I don't."
"And you don't have any preferences? "
" Oh it's immaterial to me. "
He made her walk again until they entered a

Bouillon Duval. The restaurant was crowded,
Charlotte was troubled about that, especially as
they needed to walk between the tables until they
found one where they could sit alone. He took her
jacket and, asked her to sit down. showed the
menu to her, then continued:
" If we relied on your appetite's inspiration, I fear

we wouldn't dine. You aren't unwell, today?"
"I'm very well, sir. "
" Is this true? You look rosy now, earlier you
looked extremely pale. How can you stand being
locked up all day?"
" I went out earlier. "
In a few words, Charlotte told him about Lili's

death and funeral and she blushed as she added:
" I was happy to be able to bring her flowers on
your behalf. "
She paused, a little frightened at her own

boldness, she dipped her spoon into the soup that
the waiter had laid before her, and in order to
break the disturbing silence, she asked
thoughtlessly:
"Are you an anarchist? "
"Really? Who told you that?"
His tone was ironic, Charlotte thought she had

been foolish and indiscreet, she stammered:
"Martha."
"The lovely person who was with you the other
night? "
"Yes sir."
"She would be pretty nice if she was less
intimidating. Does she work with you?"
"Yes, she does."
"So you often go out with her? "
"Often enough."
"It's not what you do best. "
Charlotte blushed, then she became pale:

"She's been very good to me, I like her."
"I've offended you, I'm sorry. You're an honest
person. I could have been an 'anarchist ' and
found convincing reasons, but I 'm not, because it
is not worth it. In the past two days, I've really
aged, Miss Charlotte. "
For the first time, Charlotte raised her eyes at him.

He had a very nice, beardless face, regular
features. Its open, free forehead under the fair,
upstanding hair gave him a smart appearance. His
large, clear blue eyes were looking into the
distance. Suddenly he became aware of her gaze,
and he smiled at her. He had a very gentle,
childlike smile:
"Of course, it is not visible, but most invisible

things do exist. Two days ago, I believed that in
order to be useful, it was enough to wish so, and
yet I have made you suffer. Yes, I see that. In vain,
I thought about the question that in order to serve
you best, and I couldn't think of anything at all.
But if things were that simple, this would be less
interesting. Come on, keep going, as d'Alembert
said... Sorry, you may not have heard of him....
He was a philosopher during Diderot's time."
A little surprised, he looked at her, and continued

quietly:
"Come on, keep on going and faith will come to
you. Do you want it?"
"I want what you want, Sir."
He said impatiently:
"A foolish thing to say, I mean, you're wrong: We
should only want what we want, and that's already
quite a difficult task. Currently, I'm pretty much
favoring the idea that you agreed I wanted dinner.
If you would like something else, you need to say
so. "
"I'm fine."
" If my sister were in Paris, I would have brought
you to our house; that would have been the easiest
option. But I don't mind using my own initiative."
Charlotte looked at him, she thought that his sister

must be an extraordinary person if she wanted to
meet a girl from the Moulin-Rouge.
He did not guess her thoughts accurately because

he smiled again and said:
"I see I did not make myself clear and that you're
eating only to please me and not for your own
pleasure. I also thought that no longer taking care
of you more would be better than doing anything,
but this thought is somehow disappointing; it is
too late for that now. Is the cemetery where you
escorted your friend further away than your

home? "
"Oh yes, it is!"
"You walked all the way there?"
"Of course, I did."

"Do you like walking? "
"I always walk everywhere. "
"So do I, however not inside Paris: the people
annoy me. When I walk, I get hungry, and I'm
even hungry when I 'm not walking. So if youre
not hungry, I guess that youre not well. Sonia
would prescribe you eggs, I guess. "
" Sonia?
" Sonia is my sister, she is thirty-two years old,
she's a doctor. She's my guardian. It's impossible
to disobey her. So, I beg you, don't mind me, and
eat for your own sake. "
Charlotte agreed to order eggs on behalf of this

unknown sister whom she now imagined as an
ideal creature, divinely good and extremely
clever. On the advice of her companion, she also
ordered custard, and only realized after she
finishing her drink, that since the beginning of the
meal she had been served milk while he drank
water.
Like the other night, they took a cab which drove

toward the Champs-Elyses. He remained silent.
Charlotte thought she ought to be saying
something, but she did not dare asking any

questions. Martha was certainly wrong to say that
she should be wary of him; yet he was well
strange. What was he going to decide next?
He led her up to the first floor of a caf in a

deserted side room. Next door, someone was
playing music. He ordered tea and cakes, grabbed
the young girl's jacket which he threw with his
overcoat to the end of the sofa and he asked her to
sit down, then he shut the door and sat in front of
her, smiling:
" I must warn you that I 'm an investigator. Are

you still afraid of me? "
"No..."
"Yes? No?"
"No. no."
"So please, don't mind me. Do you like cakes? "
"A little."
"Thank you, so do I , now I have an excuse. Eat
some, Miss Charlotte, I don't want to eat all of
these. Do you have any other friends apart from
Martha?
"Yes: Armandine ."
"Is she similar to Martha?"
" No, I mean ...
" Same as Martha? "
Charlotte tried to explain who Armandine was

and what made her different from Martha: she
was Lili's mother and she lived from her work.

The girl was trembling slightly. The young man
looked surprised but he said nothing. after a short
while he asked:
"You have no other family?"
"I still have my parents."
He stared at her face. She suddenly remembered

that she told him that she had no mother. She
became pale, then she blushed:
"I lied to you, but -. But not really, its the same"
"Ah," he no longer looked at her, "Could you
explain that to me?"
Charlotte summoned all her courage but no sound

came out from her throat. Would this strange boy
understand? He seemed very young, and
trustworthy. He expressed himself with an
astounding - if a little frightening - determination.
Yet - she felt such a need to confide in someone
... While he was drinking his tea, he explained:
"Lies - that can happen to anyone. it's not the end
of the world, Miss Charlotte. If you can't tell me,
then let's no longer speak of it. If you like, we
could to the caf-concert, and listen to some
music. I would like you to trust me. I only want to
listen to you. "
Charlotte realized that he seemed to accuse her of

mistrusting his intentions, to think what Martha
had expected. She thought that a second ago, yet
now she turned pale, stood up, disgusted by this

injustice, she suddenly began to tell her sad story;
all the events of her life even the very distant ones
came to her mind with singular sharpness, Minou,
Lucie, Miss Buchs, her mother. However, there
was something that she could not talk about, a
memory that had pursued her relentlessly,
and everything revolved around it; she could
remember the sequence and the details, of
everything else, while she could recall no memory
of the horrible event that tormented her. To stop
breaking in tears, she spoke quickly, at times she
was choking. She ended with hiding her head
behind her hands. He was not looking at her and
he was still drinking his tea. When she spoke
about running away from her mother's home and
about that aborted divorce, he interrupted her:
"No, I don't understand that either, but it's best to

leave behind things that we don't understand. And
your parents didn't look for you?"
"No, they didn't."
" You're all alone, I understand that this must be
very difficult for you, because I couldn't do that.
But I think you're very brave, and your misfortune
is therefore that you lack confidence in yourself.
You may have your reasons perhaps, tell me ... "
He hesitated for a few moments:

"Miss Martha, with whom you go out - she

usually leaves you like the day before yesterday,
doesnt she?"
"Yes, she does"
"And you found me a bit.... strange?"
"Yes. " She said very quietly.
"I'm strange," he said quietly. "I thought you
were crying because your sweetheart left you and
that you had always lived like Miss Martha and
that this time, you didn't find the courage ..."
Her sobbing interrupted him. He said:

"My sister would tell you that this is neither your
fault nor theirs. The fault is to abandon a poor
person who is trying to get out. Really, I'm hurting
you. "
She reached her hands to him, he wanted to take

them, but then she brought them back in her face,
and told in a broken voice the story of the past
three months: Lucie's goodness and how she
turned away from her, her books that she could no
longer read, selling goods on the square with
Annette, her walks along the boulevards, her
fears, and how she had become Martha's friend.
She was panting like a beast at bay, not knowing
what she said, nor knowing whom she was talking
to. Every word passing her lips tore her apart. In
the next room, she could hear a single cello; it had
a mournful sound, and Charlotte felt that it played

with her heart.
The young man stood up, walked into the room,

made her sit down next to him:
"Think about it, " he said very softly, " it wasn't
very nice of me either to be at the Moulin-Rouge.
I don't regret it because I met you there. I think,
really I do, that you're a very interesting soul,
because you're sensitive. Life's always more
clement than ourselves. My sister would say that
and forgive us."
He thought about giving her a kiss, like Sonia

would have done, but he feared a
misunderstanding, so he said:
"Would you like to repay with much kindness all
the pain that I inflicted you?"
"Yes." she said naively
"If you mean it then look at me."
He took her hands - for seconds they remained

like this. In her eyes, he could read only endless
misery, he regretted his doubts, his harshness.
And yet she was lying. But how could she tell him
the awful truth? His gaze showed nothing but
kindness, much bigger and better than ordinary
compassion. There was also astonishment mixed
into it; the astonishment of those are aware of the
existence of misery yet, never have seen it face to
face: naked, complete. Misery of the body and the
misery of soul with all that dread, for which the

whole world is responsible. Without any make-
up, that the concern for our inner peace imposed
on such faces before it could understand how to
alleviate it. Charlotte looked at him in the way a
prisoner gazes at the sun. she needed no
justification. Because she had no hope, she felt no
remorse. She felt emotional, her eyes were full of
tears; her lips trembled - her hair became loose
and fell over her shoulders. Unconsciously he
thought: 'she is very beautiful' - then he left her be
as he noticed her confusion:
"Straighten your feathers, little bird. "
He opened the window, and went on the balcony.

When she was ready, she joined him, he turned:
" You want to leave? "
"I want..."
"What I want. Don't say that any more, please,
it's too sad. It is not late, we can stay here for a bit
if you are not too tired.
"I'm very well."
"I'm glad you're always so very well. "
He led her back into the room, then he declared

she had a fever and called for the waiter and
ordered some milk. They chatted for an
hour about politics. He admitted being rich but he
didn't do it on purpose. He protested against the
bombs, he did not like those radical methods.
Charlotte was amazed to see him so

knowledgeable about all sorts of revolutionary
events. He asked her to tell how she lived in great
detail, and commented that he and his sister had
friends who were worse off. Nothing could be
done about that, because they insisted on living
badly. He was cheerful, almost joyful. Leaning in
front of him, her little face on her hand, the girl
looked at him, her tears still glistening on her
eyelashes and falling, slipping on her feverish
cheeks without her noticing. Where did he come
from? From a world that she acknowledged to be
very kind and very beautiful, thinking she could
never be part of it. He was dressed in the same
blue as her, and he wore no valuables except for
an odd-looking tie pin.
How come he was holding her gloves in his

hands? Cheap gloves made of cloth, that Charlotte
had forgot to put back on during those two terrible
nights, and instead she had been tugging
nervously at them; they were all crumpled. Very
carefully, he straightened them up while saying
that he knew the 'Thoughts of Pascal and the
Louvre Museum, as well as that alert and fresh
tune that they were playing next door: it was the
Choir of the Spinners' from Wagner's Flying
Dutchman', it had the good fortune to distract his
partner. He got up and opened the door, she
smiled at him.
Did she like music? He asked. She did not know

really. Sometimes a barrel organ, or wandering
musicians played in front of the door at Rue de
Clry. She admitted listening to them with
emotion and pleasure, and she worked better,
when a sunbeam between the black houses,
deigned to descend onto the workbench. These
ladies were the same, they opened the window
and they sang along.
Henri Lethor was a mathematician, preparing for

a calculus exam. It was very easy. He only needed
to know how to add up. Nevertheless, that very
afternoon, he needed an hour and half to solve an
equation because Mr. Hama was very
intimidating. He understood her desire to become
a teacher, he wanted to teach her. He was living
alone in Paris with his old governess. His uncle
and his sister both lived in Russia. But Sonia
would visit Paris in June, and look after Charlotte.
He promised her. In the meantime - as they had so
much to learn - she would become his student. But
she needed to be kind as he was impatient and
demanding. On the way home, in the cab, she fell
asleep. Before they arrived, he woke her up to
arrange their next meeting. She apologized for her
confusion. He said briskly:
" No, I have to thank you. I think, we get on well
with each other, don't we? "
"Oh yes, we do!"
She was a little numb and quiet, but she could not
help but wanting whatever he wanted because she
knew nothing and he knew so much. He protested
saying that his sister always accused him of
rushing things; he never knew what was best,
because the moment he agreed on something,
everything else seemed to him equally good. They
would study together, they needed to find out
what exactly, and this was not an easy choice,
because in order to study one thing properly, one
needed to study all the other subjects and the more
one studied, the more one realized that they knew
so little. Sonia would not fail to say that we should
not do everything at once. Charlotte therefore
suggested to leave aside a certain economics
projects she had tried to outline to him and did not
make sense to her.
"I'm scared of your prejudices, Miss Charlotte, it's

obviously necessary that you'll study it. Promise
to study it."
"I promise."
He kissed her hand and whispered:

"And don't go out with Miss Martha anymore."
"Oh, sir!"
It was agreed that Charlotte would completely

hand over to him the task of preparing the menu
for her lunches; he wanted her to have milk and

eggs, and lots of it. The next day, Sunday, she
needed to rest and he would pick her up by cab at
the door. They would go for two hours to the Bois
de Boulogne, and he would bring her home at six
o'clock because he could not abandon his
governess for two nights in a row. During the
walk in the woods, they would discuss what
Charlotte needed to learn by finding out what she
did not know. They were laughing, both happy,
they could not explain why. Their beautiful and
naive youth was already oblivious of all the bad
things left behind.
chapter 10
Usually, Henri Lethor picked up Charlotte from

work on a Tuesday, on a Saturday, and sometimes
on a Thursday at seven clock in the evening. He
came in a car, and every time he caused a
sensation. Having such a fine lover earned the
young girl Mr Dcoiffer's respect. Never did he
fail to tell Martha that her friend's good manners
were the reason for this. Martha came downstairs
with Charlotte, and made beautiful, sheep eyes at
the young man while offering him her gloveless
hand. He kissed her hand with a smile and without
looking particularly emotional, then he said that
he was in a hurry as he needed to attend a lecture.
Martha told her friend she felt as if the man had

emerged from an icehouse. Her companion's
silence annoyed her. She had guessed that she was
not Henri's mistress, because he did not behave
with her as with a woman who had been 'bedded'.
Charlotte's other work-colleagues were jealous
while respecting her more than before. Julie

wondered how someone could be attracted to this
little girl who looked like a skinny cat. Only
Armandine understood:
"Leave it. The pair of them together, they are

very nice. It's a boy like that I would have
preferred for my Lili. "
Martha replied:
" Sure. He would have done no harm to your
Lili. Taking a woman to a lecture! This chap has
some stunning vices. "
From time to time, Charlotte attended physics

lectures at the University of Technology. Henri
Lethor knew the young lecturer, who was a lab
assistant with Professor X, and admired him
greatly. The young girl did not always understand
and Henri repeated the lecture to her on the way
home in the cab. Contrary to his earlier comment,
he was very patient, he could give the same
explanation ten times in succession and always
find a new way of delivering it. Charlotte was
reminded of Miss Buchs', she was happy to learn
about the Atwood machine and the Foucault
pendulum. There was one thing that Henri did not
allow: people pretending to understand something
even if they did not. He said: "Explain this to
me." Charlotte became confused; Henri stamped
his foot as if he were angry. She said:
" But I thought I understood."
He laughed and he kissed her hand, then he

promised to take her to a concert.
She had brought him the curriculum for her

teaching exam. At dinner he read it, then he said:
" I'm not very up to date, but - if you do not mind

- I would prefer if you prepared your
Baccalaurat a-levels. Moreover - you still look
too tired - so let's wait. "
As a result, they went to small concerts at the

Luxembourg Rooms. According to Henri, apart
from mathematics, music was a necessary thing to
human existence. Charlotte had great respect for
mathematics; but she became passionate about
music without daring to admit how deeply. It was
as if everything in her was singing to it. Henri had
noticed his predilection for Csar Franck and
religious music. He accused her of being mystical
but she protested. He said that when she was
listening to the Ave Maria, he pictured a
swallow accidentally entering a cathedral through
the open gate doors and shattering against the
vault because even the most daring the naves all
have vaults. Only science dwells in the infinite,
and its sense of time is eternity. Charlotte would
realize that once she knew. Csar Franck might
have believed in the failure of science, otherwise

he would have whinged less; this failure was in
fact a rebirth. Charlotte remembered the
countryside, that small church, so humble, so
welcoming and she believed; she tried to control
her tears. He saw that, pressed her fingers and
began to joke: He demonstrated that she had to be
mystical, if not necessarily religious, the opposite
of a bigot, unwilling to understand. Charlotte
mentioned the philosopher Pascal who was not
religious either.
" If not him, it's his grace, " replied Henri, "as if
it's the only one. "
Charlotte did not understand her boyfriend very

well. She spoke little about him at the workshop,
because she felt that her colleagues would
understand him even less. Martha teased her
about the lectures, scolded her that she let him
take her to a cheap Bouillon-Duval - she would
not have put with that. Charlotte told tell her that
they were also going to the Opra. Henri usually
took her very high up, and because they had
arrived late, they could only find bad seats, most
those in the draft. He put his overcoat around her
shoulders. At the Opra, he met friends who were
very poor and wore strange clothes. He spoke
English and German to them yet all of them could
speak French when they greeted her. She was a
poor young girl, forced to work to fund her
studies. That did not seem to surprise anyone.

Among the gentlemen, there was always one who
offered his seat to her. Charlotte was thankful and
blushed, although she was slightly annoyed to be
separated from Henri.
Almost always the Opra played Wagner.

Charlotte admitted not understanding what was
happening on stage because she could not see it
very well. She preferred the concert at Colonne
where she once went on a Sunday afternoon. She
also sat at the top tier and met the same kind of
people; but she could listen without trying to see
the stage, as there was no acting. Henri explained
that the top tier at Colonne was stuffy, most of his
friends were poor, they could not take afford
better seats and so it was up to those who were
rich to go to those who were not.
Henri was contrary in almost everything, he

divided the universe into two parts: one was nice
and one was boring; everything could have been
nice, but some people were embarrassed and
embarrassed others with their prejudices which
prevented them from enjoying themselves, thus
such people dealt with everything, except with
themselves. Charlotte had prejudices too: She
wore a veil which Henri called a 'fly-trap' and it
reached the end of her nose. This was unbearable
to him: either the veil was protecting her face and
ought to cover it entirely, or it was useless, what

seemed most likely, and needed to be discarded.
The girl had other prejudices which her

companion had no idea about. When she went out
with Annette, she could hear these gentlemen
ushers and porters talking and what they said
confirmed her idea that all men were only
interested in chasing women. Martha reiterated to
her when they were on their own:
"Men are all dirty pigs, your snowman as well as

all the others; you can't expect that he's taking you
out for the sake of your beautiful eyes, so don't be
led down the garden path. "
Was Henri in love with her or not? Charlotte

thought about it: he never said a kind word of
love, and never had he paid her any compliment.
One evening, Martha had thought of fixing the
young girl's hat which she thought looked a little
dated, so she pinned a big scarlet bow to it.
During dinner and the concert, Henri was staring
at the bow. When they left, he asked - in a tone
that Charlotte perceived as cheeky:
"If it's not too much trouble, take this bow off. It
doesn't suit you: it clashes with your natural
expression. Either that or you need to do
something else with it. "
Martha exclaimed, the day after seeing the hat

back to black:
" He made you take it off? When you look in a
mirror, can't you see? You still don't realize that
he's afraid that you'll find yourself another guy?
You are such a mug, men are like that, they put
you well under wraps, but they'll still dump you.
You're looking at me, perhaps its because I know
these things better than you? "
Armandine admitted that the red bow suited

Charlotte's dark hair, but sometimes sacrifices
needed to be made for the sake of harmony.
Charlotte was making a far more painful sacrifice

to harmony. Every Friday night, she visited
Armandine. On that day, Henri was attending
lectures at a Society of Physics which he thought
might be too boring for Charlotte; hence he
picked her up afterwards at eleven. He also
entrusted her with various errands: a books on
mechanics for Bertie who had started to work at
the Cail Engineering company in Chaillot, a
recorder for Totole, a kerchief and song-sheets for
Rose, flowers for the mother, tobacco for the old
man and cakes for everyone. Charlotte was not
fooled by his excuses to give her money so she
held him to account. He replied:
"Money is a terrible thing. Worrying about it

dominate our lives. It's not your fault that the
world revolves around it and thousands of human
beings are condemned to live only for this
miserable metal. But this is not for you, since its
possession cant diminish you. Forget about it,
will you? Please understand that youre doing me
a favour."
When Sonia was there, they used to go shopping

for poor friends; it was the same there: now
Charlotte did the shopping, because she was his
associate, and a woman knew about such things
better than a man. She needed to help her
companions in a timely manner, and learn to
recognize the needs by herself - nobody ought to
lack dignity - and then report to him so he could
forgive himself for being so happy while knowing
that others miserable. Henry was in great need of
forgiveness, because whatever the weather, he
had always found that life had been good to him,
and if he did get emotional, he could not stay sad
for too long.
All this was not an excuse for her to start

neglecting herself, he added. Instead, she needed
to keep her promise to eat her lunches as indicated
by him, and not to walk alone at night on the
streets. He agreed that she could take the omnibus
back home, when she was not with him, since

Charlotte did not like cabs.
So Charlotte dined every Friday at Armandine's

and she tried to share Henri's speech about money
but Armandine refused any payment:
"Tut-tut, my girl, I've only known soup. You bring
the dessert, and this is your contribution, we give
ours."
Armandine had taken Henri into her motherly

heart. That he was going to leave his girlfriend
one day - was as sure as it had already happened
- but he did not look like someone who would
cause trouble to a woman. It did not happen every
day that someone was thinking about the poor
folks - this proved how happy he was with
Charlotte. During these speeches, the old
man slumbered while smoking his pipe. Totole
played the recorder, Rosa curled her very straight
but beautiful blonde hair. Harmony reigned
supreme. The men stayed at home. Totole was not
mourning Lili, as Armandine told while drying
her tears. Rosa said:
"Na Lottie, the fact that he says 'Miss' to you
leaves me speechless."
Her mother replied:

"If that's the case, then stay quiet. Don't go saying
improper things to Mr Henri. Hes well-behaved.
Everybody loves in their own way, and thats

none of our business. "
Everyone was waiting for Mr Henri to eat the

cakes. Armandine considered Mr Henri to be just
a big kid, even more childish than Bertie. With
her, he was laughing to tears, saying that he
regretted having learned philosophy before
meeting her. He showed her the Russian dances,
while accompanying himself on an old
tambourine that he had found God knows where.
The dance was about sliding, swirling and
gracefully saluting. Armandine was irresistible,
the young girls were put through their paces. The
old man woke-up, this dance reminded him of his
village, where they danced the 'Bourre' of the
Auvergne.
" You know the 'Bourre', show us the steps."
"No my young friend - I can't - my legs wont
work - Now it's your turn.
Bertie talked about his work in detail. Now, he

and Henri were talking about radius vectors,
which did not enchant Rosa, Totole was
still playing his instrument. While writing down
all the demonstrations, Henri used up all the paper
in the house. Who knows maybe one day Bertie
would become an engineer and build
locomotives? Armandine believed that stranger
things had happened.
When they were alone together in the cab, Henri

asked Charlotte to talk about her past, and indeed,
she found great pleasure in it, a feeling of relief,
happy to entrust her dreams, her aspirations to
someone who did not mock her. He had an
excellent memory, and remembered every details,
and he also liked to contradict her. Things were
no longer running smoothly when Charlotte
started to talk about the frightful ideas that came
to her during her last three months of nightmare;
but Henri wanted to know about everything she
had thought, everything she had done so she
indulged his curiosity but she was also upset and
ashamed of herself. She understood that Henri
was still surprised that she had consented to leave
the Moulin-Rouge with him, and Charlotte
thought that if she had not cried, things might
have taken an entirely different turn. She
concluded that Henri might have behaved
differently with Martha. There was no doubt that
he could love her: he found her pretty. As for
herself, maybe he left her alone because he did not
feel any desire for her. So Charlotte was suffering
from her protector's apparent indifference. Did
she regret not being Martha? But if he had felt
desire for her, hugged her, insisted to accompany
her to her room and then taken her - and Martha
said that this was a foregone conclusion - what
would become of her? After Henri had tormented
her enough with his questions, he tried to comfort
her. His voice became really very gentle, he
pressed her small hands, trembling in his. Perhaps

he had guessed:
" My sister will love you, Miss Charlotte, believe
me."
He had no hidden agenda, and he believed her. He

did not go to the Moulin-Rouge seeking an affair,
at least not consciously, but only to pass the time
on a dull evening, and driven by curiosity - which
he admitted was unhealthy. She went there
deliberately to sell herself to a stranger. When he
was away from her, he thought about this fact and
the thoughts seemed monstrous and daunting.
When they were together, he could only see her,
so sweet and charming, a poor little human being
broken by life, who had been cold and hungry and
who naively confessed how she had suffered for
being unloved. And he found that emotion from
their second meeting when she spoke and
confided to him, and he had suffered when he
helplessly witnessed so much pain.
What did she want? Charlotte hardly knew. One

Sunday, the rain was pouring; Henri thought that
she was too tired to endure four hours of music,
locked inside Concert Colonne, so he offered to
go to the Louvre museum instead. He had never
been there on a Sunday and he found the bustling
crowd interesting. They had stopped in the Salon
Carr, and side by side they were leaning side in
front of the Mona Lisa. Charlotte preferred the

Laura Dianti by Titian nearby. They talked in a
low voice, cheerfully, as if they had been very old
friends. Two young women whose demeanour
hinted that they were manual workers, sat down
beside them and they leaned towards the painting
as well. Henri paused. The two women
contemplated the enigmatic figure during a few
seconds, then one of them said to the other as they
were leaving:
"For a coquette, she really doesn't look very

beautiful."
"What is beauty, Miss? Lines? Wrong, beauty

does not physically exist, it is nothing but air and
smoke; it is the harmony that results from our
agreement between the various components that
chance offers us ... Mona laughs at me, Miss, and
at my right to judge unknown people's state of
mind, yet I learnt from you that words and deeds
are worthless, traitors to our best wishes. Only our
effort is true. The Mona Lisa is better than a
human being is a thought seeking its way. It is
welcoming or bitter, good or bad, depending on
whether she is happy or disappointed by our
efforts; her painter lent her the soul of his own
genius with this beautiful smile that saddens or
delight, mocks or encourages - she is still
beautiful because her sincere effort that she
expresses towards a better truth. "
Charlotte replied:
"She was not good. I ... I think ..." she looked
down because her eyes were full of tears and she
was thinking of him "... and beauty is perfection."
"Humbug ..."
Inside this museum, Henri knew perfect works to

catch a cold, such as those by Jacques-Louis
David and his school that he could not stand.
What a pity that Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres
who was capable of painting 'The Source' decided
to paint such an impeccable 'Anglique'. Charlotte
had always admired both paintings
conscientiously. Because those were nudes, now
she felt embarrassed contemplating them with
him. He noticed her behaviour:
"Well you're a prude. You are wrong, prudery is
mother of all vices."
Then then sky had cleared up a bit, so they went

to the Bois de Boulogne and they returned very
late. Henri wanted to buy Charlotte's dinner en-
route. Since she had to heat it on her petrol lamp,
the food needed to be practical; he had not thought
about this complication. She did not dare
assuming that he had a great desire not to leave
her.
"If they didn't expect me home, I would have

asked you to come to the theatre with me,
however we'll go there later this week. "
Henri Lethor had one big fault: he was always

late. Charlotte did not mind, but Martha was
teasing her about that. Henri had promised, they
were going to the theatre this Thursday at seven.
Now it was half past seven, and he had not arrived
yet. Martha said:
"If I were you, I'd give him a piece of mind,"
She had barely finished her sentence when the

young man suddenly jumped off the cab before it
had stopped and he reached his hand out to
Charlotte. Martha said:
"Good evening. We were expecting you. Have
you seen your companion recently?"
"He's is not a companion. I only know him from
class."
"Did he not speak about me?"
"Happiness has no words, Miss, I guess that's why
happy people have no story to tell."
"Oh Sir, youre tempting me."
Martha wrapped him in a beautiful glance, soft,

mocking and melancholic all at once:
"You must be making Charlotte happy. Before
she knew you, she didn't speak a lot, now she
hardly speaks at all."
Henri blushed, he only thought about Martha

when he saw her, he found her troubling, and
annoying:
"Tempting as it sounds, Miss, I don't believe you.
Our happiness depends on us, if Miss Bugeot is
happy, it's thanks to her own efforts. Excuse us,
we're hungry, we must live first, and then talk
philosophy."
Martha bowed very gracefully. Charlotte had not

heard anything; she only saw that her friend had
blushed. When she was sitting beside him in the
cab, Charlotte said:
"You are half an hour late."
"Yes? It's quite possible."
Out of his pocket, Henri pulled out a flat, gold

watch that he was wearing without a chain and he
said that an integral calculus equation did not
work and he found it difficult to leave his
blackboard. Alone the thought of Charlotte
waiting in the street on her own, prompted him to
do so.
"I could wait for you upstairs."
"Don't do it otherwise I'd have no reason to
interrupt, I'd forget you and we wouldn't get any
dinner... "
She did not answer. He continued:
"You look sad. Did I offend you? "
She replied briskly:
"Oh no, certainly not, after everything you've

done for me, I can surely be grateful ... "
"There is no need for gratitude, Miss Charlotte."
The young girl's eyes filled with tears.
"Now I've hurt you, I assure you, I didnt mean

it... Please, forget about the gratitude. I promise
you from now on, I'll try my best not to keep
you waiting."
He kissed her hand before helping her to get out.

At the table, in order to hide her confusion,
Charlotte asked to have a closer look at that
curious watch. It had a chronometer, it indicated
the phases of the Moon, atmospheric pressure, it
had twenty-four digits, and the hands showed a
quarter past five. Charlotte put the watch close to
her ear, and heard it ticking. Henri smiled: It was
a new one, it seemed to behave badly, he was
studying it in order to find out about appropriate
adjustments to it. While listening, Charlotte felt
some anger welling up inside her, and she thought
that he was giving her just as much honor as to his
new watch.
They were going to see the 'Arlsienne' musical

by Georges Bizet. Charlotte enjoyed settling into
a booth, alone with her extraordinary lover who
was nothing of the sort. He was in a delightful
mood and he admitted that reasonable creatures
should only go to the theater comfortably seated

and not bothered by anyone. Schopenhauer,
whom Charlotte ignored - and she was just right -
said that women did not know how to appreciate
music. Henri had said that women never knew
how keep quiet and that's why he went to the
concerts at The Luxembourg, although it was very
hot, and many people smoked; but there were
more men in the audience, so he did not have to
listen to female neighbours' cackling about the
conductor's beard or the gestures. Charlotte was
nice, because she knew how listen silently and
without making any reflections. Comments
showed that one was not in 'harmony', -
Armandine's favourite word - and this took any
poetry away from the joy experienced.
The girl was so delighted, so moved that she

hardly dared saying anything. She would have
loved to hear the farandole-dance all over again
at least twenty times. Martha might have accused
her of behaving as if she was returning from
Pontoise; and reminded her that in the company
of men, a woman needed to look like she had seen
it all, but taking a similar approach with Henri
Lethor, who knew so much, was too difficult.
Therefore, the young girl was relieved when she
saw him standing up, clapping excitedly and
enthusing:
" It's so beautiful: like the hot sun from Southern
France. "
Charlotte found the courage to tell him that she

preferred this music to Siegfried by Wagner. They
agreed to go and see Carmen another day. After
leaving, they ate a light supper. Henri was very
cheerful and very friendly, but his usual calm and
tranquil demeanour shattered Charlotte's last
illusions.
And on the next Saturday she waited for him in

vain until eight o'clock.
Very upset, she went up to her room, without

getting any dinner. She had been completely
crazy. Maybe he was spoken for? Where did she
get the idea that he loved her? At the Opra, at
Colonne, he sometimes met young women, they
were not elegant, but they were certainly very
learned. He often talked to them in a foreign
language. Charlotte was just a poor little girl, with
little knowledge, and worthy to be despised. How
could she had been so bold to tell him off, while
in her purse she carried his money. Admittedly,
she had spent as little as possible for personal use
but even refunding that amount could prove
difficult. Henri had constantly incited her to talk
about herself, but he had told nothing about
himself. Maybe he realized what she desired, and
now he would not come back. What was going to
happen to her? What should she do? Charlotte had
rarely dared asking him questions. One evening,
after pondering about his sister's name and all

these foreigners, whom he was acquainted with,
she had asked him:
"Are you French?"
"Yes, half at least, - my mother was Russian."
He had smiled at her so she did not dare to ask

more questions. Now she could not muster to the
audacity to seek him out at his address. So she
needed to write a letter. Writing to Henri Lethor
- would she be able to do that?
She stuck to her decision. She did not think about

worrying about how necessary this strange man
had become to her. She hardly knew anything
about him and yet she did not wonder where that
would lead her. However, she realized that she
loved him, she was prepared to do anything to
find him again. Yes, even if it meant not showing
this insane love that she felt for him. He was her
only possible hope of happiness. It had shone on
her only when she was deep inside the abyss. Her
life, Charlotte would have given her entire life
just to be with him again only for a few minutes,
listening to the Farandole.
She ran at a fast pace. She was in such a hurry to

write to him and beg him to forgive her arrogance.
The caretaker was standing at the door and
handed over to her a postcard sent through
pneumatic post.
Charlotte thought she was going to faint, she

barely uttered 'Thank you', and scurried up the six
floors. Henri had written:
Dear Miss Bugeot,

When I left you on Thursday, I caught a cold. I
hoped to be able to pick you up today, and now I
see that I would have left you waiting again. If you
are kind, you will forgive me. Please join us for
lunch at home on Sunday. We eat at eleven
o'clock.
yours respectfully,
Your Henri Lethor "
Charlotte sobbed: she had not thought of this

simple explanation, that he had been
incapacitated. She had been crazy. Now she was
laughing at herself while kneeling on the floor
with her head on the bed. Henri was sick and there
she was laughing. She was insane, so insane. She
had not eaten any dinner, and he would enquire
about it. So she needed to eat at once. She went
downstairs again, it was difficult to find any milk
and eggs but even more difficult to eat those.
Then she started to think again: Henri had
written: 'join us for lunch'
This word ' us ' kept her awake for most of the
night; and because of that, the next morning, she
styled her hair repeatedly, - ten times at least -,

she tried each of her three small collars on her
dress. What would his governess think of her?
Now she needed to behave impeccably.
chapter 11
Henri Lethor lived on the third floor of a house

that was not particularly extraordinary. Charlotte
was met by a stout woman aged about forty years
with a red round face, lively eyes and a sullen
expression. She was wearing a white bonnet with
ribbons that were flying on her back and a white
apron. She asked:
"Are you Miss Bugeot?"
Upon receiving a positive answer, she left the girl

alone inside a bright antechamber furnished with
only a few chairs and a coat rack and, without
even asking her to sit down, she disappeared
through a door and shouted:
"Sir, you need to leave your business: yer young

lady's here. "
Henri appeared almost immediately. He was

wearing grey clothes, and he looked a bit tired. He
greeted Charlotte:
"Did you wait for a long time yesterday? "

"Until eight o'clock."
"Oh! you are so patient."
"How are you?"
"I would like to say that I'm well, however my

doctor disagrees."
He helped the girl to take off her jacket, asked her
to give him her hat and seeing how she was
anxiously patting her hair, he led her to a mirror
before ushering her into the dining room.
Charlotte met a tiny, old woman dressed in black;
her placid face was framed with beautiful white
ringlets. She rose painfully from her chair. Henri
said:
"Stay Sraphine. Mademoiselle de Boves, my

housekeeper, this is Miss Charlotte Bugeot. Miss
Bugeot attends X's course. - You don't know him
- I had the pleasure of meeting her there. She is
preparing her a-levels. "
"Please do sit down, Miss Bugeot," the old lady
said with a warm smile, "Mr Lethor told me all
about you. You have a lot of merit. You are very
young to study Science; it wouldn't be much a
surprise from a compatriot of Miss Lethor, but in
my days, French girls couldn't be bothered with
all of this. "
"Sraphine." Henri said.

"Forgive me, Miss Bugeot , I'm an old woman,

and I'm only missing my youth, I can't really
appreciate nor understand yours, and it's only
human. Do you live alone in Paris?"
"Miss Bugeot's parents live in the regions."
"Whereabouts?"
"In Chateaudun, " Charlotte said and blushed.
"I come from further away: Crozant in the Berry
region. So you are alone, being alone is such a sad
thing ..."
"Sraphine, I think you have no objection to
having lunch? "
"Certainly, my child, let's eat."
Henri placed the old lady's chair by the dining

table and sat down on the other side. Charlotte
was facing the housemaid. The centerpiece was a
basket of pale and fragrant roses. The dining room
was spacious and it was lit by two windows that
had no curtains except for half-raised greyish-
brown linen blinds. The walls were hung with
blue-lavender canvas; on each end of the very
high, carved-oak fireplace, with the blazing wood
fire, there were two beautiful malachite vases.
Charlotte also noticed the oak sideboard and two
paintings on the walls representing the
undergrowth of a forest. She remained silent
because she did not know what to say. Henri
began:
"Sraphine, you'll get on well with Miss Bugeot;
she is not a Christian, naturally."
"What do you mean by naturally?"

"As I've already explained, science and religion
are incompatible, but I suspect that she has
tendencies towards mysticism, your disease of
perfection. She knows the Gospel according to
Saint Luke and Pascal's Thoughts by heart."
"Pascal," Sraphine said, "was a great scientist,
and a great Christian as well.
"He did not know Charles Darwin." Henri said
Charlotte made an effort to contribute to the

conversation: She loved Pascal, although he was
a Christian, but she did not know anything about
Charles Darwin. Miss de Boves did not know
either and did not want to know: he was a horrible
person saying that humans were children of
monkeys.
"Cousins, Sraphine, only cousins. Listen, I

remember a great ape - I don't know where or
when but I was a young boy - he had beautiful
eyes, as beautiful as those of any creature that
thinks, yet so many human beings don't think. "
Henri promised Charlotte to lend her the Origins

of the Species. Miss de Boves preferred Octave
Feuillet and George Sand - her compatriot -, and
her favourite Sand novel was 'Indiana'. Charlotte
was familiar with all these names because she had
read them in town-hall library catalogue; yet she
had not read these authors. Henri brought the
conversation back to Raphael's saying that his

painted Madonnas had stupid faces and had no
clue about what was happening to their bodies,
this deeply shocked the governess while the
housemaid burst out laughing. The latter had not
said anything yet she was merely staring at
Charlotte.
Charlotte was pale however, she put a brave face

despite the inquisitive behaviour of the free-
spirited housemaid who was still not taking her
eyes off her. Miss de Boves looked worried:
"You aren't ill, Miss Bugeot, are you? It was Mr.
Lethor who asked us to serve you milk, he quite
insisted, and I see from your face that he wasn't
wrong to do so. You're like all those girls who
learn and learn, my God! and forget to eat.
Therefore, as you'll be coming here every evening
for your algebra lesson, it may more convenient
for you to dine here."
"Oh but ..." Charlotte said, she was very moved
and blushing.
Miss de Boves' movements were slow, her voice

was soft; each word was accompanied by a smile
that made her fine-featured wrinkled face very
attractive. It lit a light inside her pale eyes.
Sometimes, she called the boy Ric or my little Ric
and she did so when she needed his approval.
Henri smiled at the girl:
"Accept, mademoiselle, it would be such an

honour if you did."
Miss de Boves sat down again in another chair by

the window between an embroidery loom and a
basket with balls of wool of different colours.
Then she noticed that she had dropped her glasses
which she needed for her work so Henri went on
all fours and searched for them under the table.
Meanwhile Charlotte, abandoned on the threshold

of the study, had been examining the room. It was
very large; the light came from three windows
lined with stores similar to those in the dining
room. The tapestry was of an old gold colour; on
a white marble fireplace with a burning wood fire,
there stood a naked marble Diana which reflected
into a bevelled mirror. Next to it, a long crystal
flute vase contained a rose in full-bloom. Between
the fireplace and the window there was a huge
grand piano draped in Japanese silks; two large
black wooden desks were placed against the other
wall; between them there was a sofa covered with
a tiger skin rug. On the wall, facing the windows,
between two glass cabinets full of books, there
was a bi-fold door that the young man closed. In
the middle of the room, there was a chalkboard on
an easel. Books were piling on the ground, here
and there, on two chairs, and a rocking chair
which he cleared to offer a seat to his pupil. He
sat down opposite her on a small bench. Eulalie
put a coffee-tray next to him on one of the desks

and said:
"Will you now leave us alone, Sir?"
"I will try, now, please, Eulalie, go away."
Eulalie was in a bad mood: she had not been able

to leave the house because she was told that Henri
was ill, that was indeed very ridiculous. Charlotte
reached out for some sugar and as she looked up,
she caught a glimpse of a small and pretty
watercolor hanging on the wall above the desk. A
head of a young girl, all white and pink with a
halo of full blonde hair, she had big laughing eyes
and looked mischievous, she seemed to bow,
discovering a beautiful snow-white neck that
emerged from her light-coloured slightly low-cut
bodice.
"My sister Sonia, when she was twenty."
Henri Lethor Sr, Ric's father, was a very poor

boy, and a maths teacher. After vegetating in
Paris, he left for Russia where he had two sisters,
one married in Lodz, the other was a teacher in
Moscow. The latter had found him a job teaching
a young Russian girl whom she was giving
drawing lessons. The young man fell in love with
his pupil Sophie Ivanowna. She was extremely
rich and lived alone with her father, who did not
want her to get married. So the teacher and the
young girl eloped.
The fugitives settled in Vienna with

Mademoiselle de Boves, who was Sophie's
French teacher and who loved her like her own
child. They eked a living the young man gave
mathematics lessons and the young woman taught
the piano. Miss de Boves looked after the
household and raised their little girl whose name
was Sophie Ivanowna or Sonia. Fourteen years
later, Ric was born into this world. The mother
died in childbirth and the father died six months
later. Sraphine sold everything they owned and
they returned to Russia, she brought the orphans
to Uncle Pierre, the brother of their maternal
grandfather, the latter was now dead and buried.
Uncle Pierre was a widower and all his children
had died young. He owned large estates in the
vicinity of K ... He also held very liberal views.
So he took in the governess, the girl and the little
boy to whom Sonia was now the young mother.
Ric was raised by Sonia, and he was very, very

spoiled. Sonia taught him to walk, to talk and to
play the piano; like her own mother Sonia had
musical talents. She became the blonde fairy from
the portrait made by Sraphine. When she was
twenty, she was engaged to Jacques Seradsky, the
son of a lawyer from Petersburg, who was staying
in K. Jacques used to hug them both and he
promised to keep them together forever. In the
evenings, young Ric played the piano,
accompanied by his uncle Pierre who played the

violin, and the engaged couple danced.
Jacques Seradsky was not really a nihilist, but

many of his friends were. One night, he was
arrested and nobody was able to give any
explanation. After fifteen months of detention in
a Russian prison, he was sentenced to forced
labour in the mines. Uncle Pierre and Sonia had
tried everything in vain everything to see him
during these fifteen months. Sraphine
accompanied Sonia because she did not want to
leave the daughter of her dear late Sophie
Ivanowna, and Ric's mission was to prevent both
of them from falling into despair. He was a very
young boy, and very sad to see his mommy
crying, and he understood that he might be useful
and this filled him with pride. He still
remembered the faulty trains, the endless stops at
the stations, and how they could not find any food
when young Ric was very hungry. Endlessly
waiting in the office until finally they were told
that the prisoners had just left, they raced behind,
at last they arrived. How Sonia had screamed
when she was told that Jacques who had been very
ill when he left prison, had died during the
journey. Hours later, she was still while Ric
desperately clung to her and he was screaming as
well.
Sraphine brought them back to K ... But Sonia

did not recover from her pain: Jacques had died,

he had called her and she had been unable to see
him. Now she loathed Russia, therefore Uncle
Pierre sent all three to France. He loved France
for him it was the homeland of Voltaire and
Fontenelle. This happened ten years ago. They
moved into this apartment. Sonia studied
medicine. The first years were very hard for her.
Often she abandoned her books, and sobbed on
the couch. Ric used to go to the piano and play the
waltzes from the old days. After Sonia had
calmed down, Sraphine took her to her room and
put her to bed like a little girl.
They almost became nihilists. They did not thanks

to Uncle Pierre who had beseeched Sonia to
remain reasonable. Uncle Pierre came to see them
during the holidays and he took them with him on
his travels. Their friends who were people of very
high social status deserted them - they had lost
their humanity because of their sectarian
mentality and intransigence, and their rigid
principles. So the house became empty of visitors.
Sonia became a doctor. She was her brother's only
teacher and taught him up his a-levels. Since then,
Ric attended the Sorbonne. He had a great passion
for mathematics, and his sister was very good at
those. At the beginning of this year, Uncle Pierre
had asked Sonia to come back to Russia. Now she
was gone. Back home in Russia, they served the
Revolution in their own way, a slow but
invincible one. She drove out on a sleigh, often

for several days, going from village to village,
caring for the sick and helping women to give
birth. She brought bread and books to the
villagers. Uncle Pierre often accompanied her; he
was still youthful and strong; he did not share
their ideas and say that the boorish louts soon
would forget everything that had done for them
and would burn their house without pity. Sonia
and Ric believed that he was right. Ignorance and
misery in the world were just too big. They were
not revolutionaries, but when the Revolution
would come, they would be ready, and Uncle
Pierre with them, even if they had to perish under
the ruins of their crumbling house, they would be
shouting: "Long live the Revolution!"
Ric still needed to prepare two exams, after that

he would join Uncle Pierre and Sonia. Then he
would return to Paris for a thesis, he did not know
on what subject yet. He wanted to pass his
agrgation-teaching certificate, and to become
a secondary-school Science teacher. Since the
departure of Sonia, he had been bored; he loved
Sraphine very much, but she was not Sonia; their
souls remained strangers -; the last few remaining
friends drifted away, blaming his poise and his
cheerfulness. Ric enjoyed the good life; he was
used to it.
He spoke more for himself, Charlotte was

listening and felt a little ashamed for believing
what Martha had told her, in the heart, she felt a
slight crack and through it went her last
expectations. Henri was like that sister: he did
good for the sake of it, for his own pleasure;
goodness for its own sake was the luxury of their
minds, it did not need any recognition. Yet
Charlotte was not one of uncle Pierre's boorish
villagers.
Henri contemplated Charlotte's lovely dark hair,

her very young and delicate face, while deploring
that its expression was too serious. He was angry
at himself for having made her suffer by asking
too many incessant questions. He blamed his
inquisitive mind for always wanting to find
specific reasons for everything. Yet these reasons,
and he knew it, were often very difficult to
explain. This week only, when writing to Sonia,
with whom he shared everything, he talked about
Charlotte and told the same story as he told
Sraphine. Why did he not tell the truth? He had
no doubts in his sister's indulgence nor in her
supreme goodness. Since her bereavement, Sonia
had seen so much misery, and she had treated
some very sad human beings. Henri himself had
accompanied her on her rounds and they saw
people who welcomed them with insults. Sonia
was patient and the opposite of a Puritan. At first,
Henri was thinking how she might scold him for
going to the Moulin-Rouge; now he realized that

Sonia would be deeply disappointed by his
behaviour, and, not knowing Charlotte, she would
be concerned. His lie however weighed on his
conscience, therefore he was grateful to the young
girl for the way she was; and once Sonia had seen
Charlotte, Henri would be able to tell the truth to
his sister.
She was sitting there, he found her delightful. A

ray of sunshine fell on her round wrist and her
little hand on the arm of the chair; it was also
lighting her feet, small as well, clad in carefully
waxed and obviously very old black ankle boots.
She was trying to keep her feet on the ground, as
she was probably not accustomed to this kind of
seat and feeling that she might fall over.
" I'm sorry to keep you here on such a beautiful

day."
" Oh, I'm feeling so good. "
"Really?"
He stood up, opened the window, and turned her

chair slightly so that she did not need to sit with
her back in the draught. Outside there was a large
balcony with a full view on the Luxembourg
Gardens.
Henri was very happy as he was talking.

Sraphine enjoyed meeting the girl; She was a
Christian and supported some ideas by

Tolstoy (Charlotte needs to read Tolstoy, he
would lend her some books by him), she was also
a great enemy of Science which she accused of
disrupting everyone's brains. she would also
return to Russia. As long as Uncle Pierre lived,
there was no hope of bringing Sonia back to
France. Henri accused the two ladies of having a
sentimental affection to pain and sacrifice. Uncle
Pierre could certainly move to Paris if someone
bothered to ask him seriously; but everyone
wanted to save Russia, and yet one day it would
save itself on its own. Sraphine believed in
freedom through preaching the Gospels.
Charlotte had not noticed that there was a big

bullseye clock, above the door, the bell rang nine.
"It's sixteen minutes past three o'clock," Henri
said, "It has not rung today so I'm keeping an eye
on it."
The girl burst into a fresh and beautiful laughter

and it seemed to bounce off the walls of this big
room. She shrieked when the strange seat tilted
backwards.
"Youre wrong be afraid, Miss, the purpose of this

chair is this very exercise and you won't fall
backwards. Youre making fun of me, I think.
But you laugh well and youve made me happy; I
was beginning to worry that you did not know

how to."
He did not seem offended. He explained that he

was not a watchmaker, but he was interested in
astronomy for which it was essential to know the
exact time. From one of the glass-cabinets, he
took out her a small board with four chronometers
- each marking a different time - attached to it.
By comparing their respective irregularities, he
could reach a fairly accurate approximation of the
truth. All those irregularities which happened to
those well-built watches were caused by the
vibrations of the house. In order to avoid those
completely, he could of course put them in the
cellar.
As a result, the lesson was very cheerful.

According to Charlotte, algebra was like Henri: a
strange and paradoxical thing: Plus multiplied by
minus equaled minus, and there was minus
multiplied by minus which equaled the same
numbers with a plus. She could not help but
finding this miraculous. She would never learn,
her teacher said, as long she could not understand
that this was all very natural.
He was using an old manual which she could take

home with her. He explained while leaning
against a corner of his desk, seemingly
contemplating of his own red slippers. When
Charlotte claimed that she understood, he held out

a piece of chalk which he took from a wooden
bowl, and asked her to demonstrate on the
blackboard. He laughed when he saw that she was
wrong and erased everything, then started
explaining again.
"Am I very stupid?" the young girl asked
"Fortunately for me, Miss Charlotte, otherwise
there would be nothing for us to do."
At about four o'clock Eulalie entered the room to

bring them tea and cakes. Henri closed the
window.
When they were alone, Charlotte felt like

laughing again. Henri asked:
"Sing something, will you? "
"Me?"
"You told me that all of you are singing when the
sun shines into your workshop."
"Yes but I don't sing."
"You mean you can't play music, but you can
sing, I suppose, like a small babbling brook. Try
it, I won't look at you."
At Dcoiffer's, they only sang rude songs or

stupidly sentimental ones. Right on time,
Charlotte remembered a meaningless little song
learned at school. So she chirped shyly.
"Well done," Henri said, "you are in tune, music
is a nice distraction, I'll teach you."
He sat down at the piano. As soon as the first

notes resounded, Sraphine and Eulalie came into
the room, the housemaid was carrying the old
lady's chair. Henri was playing beautifully and
seemed to forget the world's existence. Charlotte
listened while reclining in the rocking-chair, she
was pale with emotion. From time to time,
Sraphine turned her head toward her, and gave
her a kind smile. She spoke to the young man
when he stopped. When he went to the desk to
pick up a cake; Sraphine gave him a kiss:
"My lovely little Ric, it's been a long time since
you played. It's so kind of you to do so today."
"Yes, sir," Eulalie said, "it's not miserable. I was
feeling weary because things were getting sad
here."
They dined at six, because Henri did not want

Charlotte getting home too late. He gave her a
bundle of books which she promised not to read
at night, but only at her workshop if there was
nothing else to do. Then Eulalie escorted her back
to the omnibus.
chapter 12
At around that time, Charlotte was probably

happy. Happiness is not a state, it is a set of
fleeting joys, twinkling golden stars against a
black background; between each of them, there is
an abyss, yet life is about searching those stars
and one's own courage is inspired by their
expectation or their memories. Charlotte was
happy when she was not seeing her friend,
because she knew she was going to see him soon;
and when she was with him, she felt alive. Henri
did not pick her up all the time. At times, she
waited upstairs until a quarter past seven, then
look through the window, if she did not see him
outside, she went to his home by tram. They were
always together at a quarter to eight and dinner
was served at around eight o'clock. While they
were waiting, Henri read out to her, sitting on the
little bench, one foot on the front bar of the
rocking-chair, and enjoying making her rock to a
fro. A soft light fell from a large chandelier

hanging from the ceiling, filtering through its
frosted-glass tulips. Charlotte loved the Thoughts
of Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antonicus, she
revered Epictetus because Pascal had cherished
him. Henri found both unbearable because they
were always whingeing. The dinner would be
cheerful. The young man was constantly teasing
Sraphine about religion. According to him,
someone should have none of them or believe in
all of them. Then he stood up, walked behind his
housekeeper and kissed her. Charlotte felt a great
desire to go put her head next to theirs.
After dinner, it was time for her algebra lesson.

According to her teacher, she showed great
abilities; but a bad habit of hers was that she was
not always focused. When she remained silent for
too long in front of the blackboard, Henri stood
up, threw his book across the room, erased
everything, then he regretted his fit of anger,
kissed her hand and softly started explaining once
again. Charlotte often made mistakes, this was
due to the fact that she was torn between the
desire of not wishing to look too stupid, and that
of feeling his lips on her hand. Her hands, despite
rubbing them every day with glycerin, they
remained stubbornly dark, yet they were pretty,
and Henri seemed to appreciate them.
Then they practised music. Henry taught her the

do-re-mi. He had no singing voice. He also
showed her how to sing scales and other simple
exercises. The music lesson concluded with Henri
playing whatever Charlotte requested. Sraphine
and Eulalie joined them and watched from the
back in silence. While playing, the young man
could easily forget the time. Eulalie needed to
remind him:
"It's past eleven o'clock, sir, well I'm mentioning
it for the sake of the young lady."
The journey back to rue Flocon was a long walk,

and Henri still needed to get back. Charlotte had
offered to go home alone. Where does ones self-
sacrifice stop? But Henri said he would have been
worried about her. Sraphine thought the same;
besides Henri did not have to get up early: he and
Sonia had always been night owls anyway.
Charlotte may have remembered meeting her

friend at the Moulin-Rouge, but Henri did not
seem to remember, nor anything that she had told
him, because he never spoke about it again. He
treated her like a little sister whom he was happy
to entertain and cherish.
"So," Charlotte asked, "you really believe Ill pass

my a-levels?"
"Believing is not a guarantee, besides it's more
important to earn it than to have it"
"And I'll also be able to play Mendelssohn?"
Yes, indeed, Charlotte would be able to, she only

needed to be patient.
Henri had visited England, Germany, Austria,

Spain and Italy. He knew the Pyrenees, the Alps
and the Vosges mountains. Every year for the past
ten years, he went on trips with Uncle Pierre and
Sonia. This year he did not know where they
would go as Sonia was coming to Paris instead of
leaving the city. What would she decide about
Charlotte? Maybe she would take her to Russia.
Henri thought that the girl's job in Paris was not
suited to her temperament and that Sonia would
be happy to have such a sweet friend to cherish
and educate, and she had such an inquisitive
mind! Her parents needed to give their consented
to that, but as they did not take care of her now,
why should they refuse?
The first time Henri talked about that proposal,

Charlotte did not seem very enthusiastic. Henri
quickly added that Russia was very far, France
was a very beautiful country and one would be sad
to leave it, and they would find something else, if
exile displeased her. She whispered:
"But it's you whom I won't see."
Heartbroken, she was looking at him with

pleading eyes. He was deeply moved, and at the
same time he felt strong pleasure. He admitted to

himself that he was finding her infinitely
delightful. For the first time, it occurred to him
that perhaps she could be harbouring similar
feelings for him, it was very pleasant to think so,
but soon she regained control of her emotions,
accepted the offer, and asked to leave with Sonia.
Would not she not see her friend Ric every year?
So now he was disappointed and interested in
solving this new enigma, he found the thought
process extremely captivating:
Charlotte was true. She knew this particular

exaltation of sacrifice, the supreme joy of
martyrs, she gave nothing, and she lived! Thus
verifying these beautiful words of the scientist
Henri Poincar whose name was often on the lips
of her teacher:
" We pursued a selfless purpose and everything
else came in addition."
At the beginning of April, full-work had resumed

at Dcoiffer's. Every morning, Martha was told
off for being late, this did not startle her:
"Boss, will you care for me, when there won't be
any work? My time-keeping is none of your
business, I don't work for your sake, it's for my
mothers and her principles. "
"Your mother, she must be proud of having a
daughter like you."
"Indeed, she is, otherwise she would be living off

thin air. Don't bore me more than she does."
When Martha was behind in her task, Charlotte

helped her. Since she had been visiting rue
d'Assas, she was no longer afraid of anything. The
happiness which Henri gave to her, no one could
take it away, he alone was in her heart. She no
longer needed to help with the sales because
Annette had taken on a porter. She arrived at
seven o'clock in the morning and worked
cheerfully. Sometimes she even sang very short
gentle songs which the ladies enjoyed. She looked
healthier and had put on a little weight.
Armandine said that love did her a lot of good.
Charlotte only thought that by working this way,

she was doing Science; according to her friend,
this happened when one accepted valiantly to
make an effort to be happy, because knowledge
was not about avoiding effort, but to use effort
more efficiently. Often Henri climbed on a chair
when he made his speeches. Eulalie once shouted:
"You are mad, sir, all your numbers, what a story,

youre pulling the wool over our eyes."
However, Charlotte believed that while working,

she was doing Science, she was saving the world.
Henri had explained it to her very well: a certain
Elie Bertrand had proved that an ant could level
up Switzerland by tirelessly carrying small grains

of sand. To save the world, it was not necessary
to fill it with lamentations, it would not work any
faster, quite the contrary: it might get lost in
unnecessary complications. Therefore, it was
easiest to live the best we could and let things take
their course naturally.
While saving the world, Charlotte roughly earned

three francs a day. She was able to manage, more
so she even paid her rent without using the
hundred-franc note that she found in her algebra
manual. Now the Sunday dress that she wore
every day, started to tear at the seams. Her hat
looked faded, her gloves could no longer be
mended. Martha looked at her with increasing
curiosity:
"I admit that you have an amazing style and you
don't need many rags. You don't look enticing, but
since your guy loves originality, he's getting bags
of it. It does not matter if he likes you like that,
you're lucky but does he not give any dough? "
Charlotte sobbed.
"Did he dump you?"
"Oh no, he didnt."
"You're a little miffed, and that's because he
didnt do anything to you. No need to feel bad
about it. I assure you that you look rolling, and I
understand how you feel. This story will end in
tears. When people are in love, it's not like they
are not. I love Coco, and I would not expect him

to send me any money, but this, you know, it's
strange, the smartest people could not make any
sense of it. If you want to keep your pet, make
sure that you get money from another man. "
Charlotte was beginning to feel self-conscious

when she went to the theatre with Henri. All the
more so because, when they were alone, he
always tried to find very good seats to please
her. He did not seem to worry about her dress,
nor did he draw any comparisons with women
sitting near them, on the contrary. During the
interval he was criticizing everything, saying that
he did not like ladies who wore lots of jewelry,
nor those who showed off their red arms, but he
prized white dresses and asked Charlotte to
remove her hat.
One night they were returning from the Thatre

Franais. She admitted that often on her way to
his house for dinner, she made a detour through
Rue des coles, so that she could walk in front of
the Sorbonne, the temple of his divinity. Henri
scolded her, but he held her hand and explained
that he used to go there with Sonia when he was
very young. They would enter through a
passageway by the old church. The porter would
look at the little boy and Sonia would greet him
with a smile. The walls were decorated with
painted panels in a sober and harmonious style,
their footsteps resounded on the flagstones and

this made up another harmony. Then they crossed
another gallery and the child would scrutinize the
walls with the eyes of an investigator, believing
coming out of a corner, lifting a corner of her veil:
science, holiness, blessing, work, hope,
consolation, appeasement would appear and heal
Sonia. One day, Charlotte would visit the
Sorbonne, she too would admire the frescoes by
Puvis de Chavannes and she would understand
how the artist was moved by the same force, the
same heartbreak and hugged by the same desire
which made her dear Csar Franck cry, and with
Henri she would proclaim:
"Hallelujah, it is upon us, it is within us, she

came!"
They arrived back at her home; as Charlotte left

the cab, the sole of her ankle boot caught on the
step, and she stumbled. She fell against the young
man's chest. Without worrying about the driver,
he carried her to the door, saying to her ear:
" My little soul, youll buy new ones, that's all.
Please, I insist. "
She said that she still had all the money he had
given her, but ... she had thought that her ankle
boots would have lasted longer ....
"Indeed I understand that youre punishing
yourself for not being my sister. "
She felt good in Henri's arms, why did she need

to walk with ankle boots anyway? She felt so
embarrassed that she almost wept. She replied
that the next morning, she would visit a nearby
shop and replace them. He was a little annoyed at
her pride and the way she felt the need to suffer
for this stupid money, and he was barely keeping
himself from whispering sweet and tender words
to her.
Doing so might not have been right, and yet ... He

said good night to the young girl, and pulled the
door without repeating it as he would usually do
because he was so absorbed in his thoughts.
On that Sunday in May, Charlotte was standing in

front of her open window at six-thirty in the
morning. The sky was clear and pale, and the air
was still a bit cool. She watched the sun playing
on the slate roofs, lighting-up the neighbouring
windows. Opposite to her, but far away, a window
opened and a man popped out his tousled head.
He noticed her, blew her a kiss; confused
Charlotte closed her window.
It was ridiculous to be ready so early. Henri was

only coming to pick her up at seven. However, she
was eager to show him her new dress on which
she had worked for three weeks. She did not to
pick a white fabric because she needed her only
dress to be practical, so she chose a blue colour

which Henri loved. She tried on her hat, that one
was also new. It was made of light-coloured
straw, trimmed with tulle and a rose made from
cutouts. All these innovations filled her with
childlike joy, mixed with a little remorse and a
dull anxiety: What would her friend think of her?
Due to trying on and removing her hat,

Charlottes hair now looked disheveled, it never
seemed to hold, there was always a curl from the
nape that escaped. Likewise, the hair framing her
forehead did not want to stay flat. Once, Henri had
caught her patting her hair, while the young girl
was writing at the desk and he had said to her:
"Your curls have the soul of logarithmic spirals.
Why do you want to enslave them? In five
minutes, youll be looking again like a little
Astrakhan sheep. "
How should she behave when opening the door?

As if it was the easiest thing in the world, Henri
had said the previous before leaving her:
"As convened, tomorrow, I'm picking you up at

home."
Everywhere he went, Henri was always perfectly

calm as if it was the most natural thing. Charlotte
was always nervous, and Henri noticed it. He did
so, because he could see everything. He would
think of something and not say anything. Nor

would he tell her how he felt about her room, she
had arranged the best she could and yet in the
morning light, it looked so terribly empty and
poor. Henri would ask why the window was
closed, because he could only understand open
windows.
Hurried footsteps down the corridor, then a brief

knock at the door. Charlotte was so distraught that
she dropped her hatpin and her veil, she unlocked
the door and ran to the window. Henri said,
entering and closing the door as if he were in his
own antechamber:
"Good morning, Charlotte, someone knocks at
your door and you rush to the window; you can't
act rationally."
She turned around, he was holding the hatpin and

the veil which he had picked up, and he seemed
particularly interested in the portrait of the Man
with a Glove.
"This is..."
"I know him, I also love these hot hues, they seem
to have been woven by the sun. If you dont put
on your veil, today's sun will never agree to leave
your cheek. Were late and I guess that your alarm
clock is faulty."
She stretched out her hand, he grabbed it, held it

for a second, then he let her go:
"I'm not taking it away, but do hurry up. "
Adjusting a veil in front of a small mirror large

enough to glimpse the tip of a nose while being
mockingly watched by a handsome young man is
a difficult exercise. Once her veil was pinned,
Charlotte had to change it again because it was
pulling her chin.
Downstairs, they went into the waiting car. Sitting

beside him, Charlotte had to admit that she was
disappointed that she had not received any
compliments; did her hat not suit her, or did she
behave so foolishly that Henri ignored her? He
was merely talking about Titian and the Venetian
school:
Man with a Glove, apart from his splendid
complexion, he has bold looks, thoughtful eyes
and good-looking hands. Yet the more we know
him, the less we appreciate him. He has only color
and shape, I prefer by far the heads of Vinci,
particularly St. John the Baptist."
"The more we know the less we understand."
"That's why I like it; this gives him a feminine
touch. When I arrived, and you looked at me, I
thought that you were in a good mood, now you
seem upset. Whats happened?"
"Nothing, but I was very rude. I ... I was opening
the window to make you happy."
"It would have been better to open it before to

give yourself some fresh air. Is that it,
Charlotte?"
"Yes."
"Youre a timid little bird, and youre wrong to
upset yourself for so little; politeness doesnt
exist, what exists is that youre divinely
beautiful."
Grateful, she looked at him.
"It is a joy for me to say so; your Man with a

Glove is silent, lucky me. If youre kind, youll
give him to me. If he learned to speak, I wouldn't
like that: you might leave me stranded outside
your door."
Charlotte 's heart was racing. At times, it seemed

that Henri was looking as if he wanted to kiss her;
she could not get rid of such crazy expectations.
If he loved her, it would not last for long; maybe
until he left for Russia. As always the
expectations faded, maybe he would have kissed
her this morning if she hadn't been so silly.
Spontaneously, she took his hand and said:
"Ric, you must believe what I said about the
window, I didn't do it on purpose."
His friend did not desire her when he thought she

was selling herself, but if he could believe that she
loved him, she would not mind being his mistress.
He had brought her to the house, that was true,

and this was unusual, but he did not have any
prejudices. Charlotte had still so much to learn
before understanding about lack of prejudices.
She resented the terror that love still continued to
inspire her, and she suffered from the anxiety that
Henri who believed that she was pure, might not
easily accept that she was not. Would he find out?
The poor child just did not know anything.
Besides, she realized almost immediately that she

had deceived herself once more, because her
companion was probably thinking nothing of the
kind. He barely squeezed her hand and said
cheerfully:
"Calm down, I'm just teasing you a bit, but I was
telling the truth. If you crafted this hat, as I
assume, then youre a fairy."
She blushed:
"Yes, I did ...my dress too."
"Youre two fairies. How do you find the time
doing these things?"
"But..."
"At night? Please don't do that again: I'll talk to
Sraphine. She can sew, she loves you very much
and she would be happy to help you."
The cab had arrived. As they were walking into

the Gare du Nord, Henry seemed bothered by
what he called the twin beauties of Monopoly and
Administration. This station, famous for the speed

of its trains - that others reached too -, was also
renowned for being dirty and for its shoddy
management.
Especially on Sundays, the number of open ticket

booths was in inverse proportion to the number of
people who wanted to leave. On the platforms, no
employee never knew where the train was. As for
the signs, they were only put up at the last minute;
probably they were meant to tell latecomers that
their train was gone. Those trains were always
certain to carry the luggage, while the travelers
themselves, stood obediently behind the railings
until departure time, so that the porters were at
least able to crush their feet. Henri explained that
it had been like that every Sunday since he started
to visit the forest with Sonia. He noted with
satisfaction that nothing had changed and that
Pascal while mourning stability, was still unaware
of railway companies.
That forest they were going to see, Henry had

spoken about it since the milder days, and
Charlotte had been waiting impatiently for him to
take her there. She knew the trees on the
boulevards. In the past, she remembered that she
had seen some others, but their image remained
vague in her mind. Henri spoke about this forest
as if it were a special place where there were no
people and where there was freedom. However,
he had spent all these Sundays locked up at home,

working on Mr. Hama's course. Fortunately, Mr.
Hama had declared himself satisfied.
Ninety minutes later, they arrived in a small town

that Charlotte did not find pretty and her friend
made her walk quickly through its three small
badly paved streets, explaining that the town
possessed a horrible chapel in a very pretentious
bastard Jesuit style, it also had a statue of a great
man very enamored with pomp and circumstance,
and a palace which had beautiful chimneys from
the Renaissance period which they would visit
another day, and there was a very good bakery in
this town as well and this is where they bought
their provisions of bread rolls because it was quite
possible to get lost on the whimsical forest paths.
Therefore, they might get their lunch only very
late. They crossed a corner of a park, Charlotte
was admiring the very large trees and Henri
admitted they were beautiful despite being
civilized; then they followed a narrow path along
a beautiful sunlit plain: a house with a red roof
sheltered under a clump of trees, chickens
pecking here, became frightened and fled.
"My little soul, contemplate, this is the forest."
In front of them a narrow grassy avenue opened;

saplings, very tight against each other, formed a
slight and airy vault with their tender leaves.
Through the foliage, they could see the blue sky.
On the ground, the sun was playfully drawing the

shades of the leaves. In the middle, a capricious
little path, was twisting, sometimes running
ahead, then stepping to the left before moving to
the right like a long earth-coloured snake.
"Remove your veil, Charlotte, and your gloves.

The free children of the earth enjoy simplicity,
and if you give them the alms of a caress, they
will accept only your bare hands. Give me those
and all these things that you are carrying with you;
you are like Sonia, I think, you don't have any
pockets, yet quantities of useless fancy goods.
The sum total of her fancy goods amounted to a

small silk handbag containing a purse, a key and
a handkerchief. Henri carefully folded the ribbon
handle, flattened the bag, the veil and the gloves,
and put everything in one of his pockets:
"Go first, and follow the path, here the grass is
always wet."
Yes, indeed, this forest was whimsical, they were
constantly ascending, then the path went down a
bit, and went up again. Birds were singing in the
trees as if they said 'Why are you coming here?'
or 'We are not bothered' - at least that is what
Henri claimed. Walking behind Charlotte, he was
pleased to rid the trail of leaves with his cane and
watching the pretty slim round waist of the
charming creature walking cheerfully in front of
him. From time to time, she turned around and
smiled, her face looking rosy under her hat, and

she was asking: "That way?"
The rise to the route du Fate, was a bit steep, so
Henri suddenly took her by the waist, and he
make her run, by almost carrying her:
"Here we are, this is the cross of Bellevue."
Charlotte, a little breathless and red, sat down on

a moss-covered fallen tree, a log ready to be taken
away. Henri threw his hat in front of him and
reclined on the ground, a bit further away from
her:
"Arent you hungry?"
"Oh yes!"
"Like a wolf?"
"Like all the wolves put together."
He raised himself on one elbow to see her better.

He smiled thinking that she sounded very
audacious, but she was looking at him with open
hands, a sweet demeanour of, half-prayer, half-
trust. So he threw a bread roll into her lap.
They were a little on the side of a large green

circle. In the middle, a wooden cross dangled its
rotten arms on and all traces of inscriptions had
faded. Across, some very large trees with smooth
trunks set themselves up as the columns of a
temple of awe-inspiring depths; close to them, a
large gap and the bluish distance. A brisk breeze
came through it; they saw only bushes, and

saplings happy to feel their first leaves shivering.
A path wandered between large clumps of golden
broom, shining among the greenery like a noisy,
childish fanfare trying to distract you from the
charm of a soothing melody, yet no one could
blame them.
"The brooms are tempting you, Charlotte, but this
is not our path."
Henry said he knew all the paths of that forest.

The path was leading a small and neat white city,
it had a little old bell tower around which the
sparrows were always chirping. It crossed a
flowing clear small river, to an always buzzing
mill. Their own road was winding down, the soft
earth was giving way under their feet, tremors
were shaking the thickets. Charlotte stopped,
listened, motionless, a finger to her lips, hoping to
see a deer emerging, Henri had said that there
were deer in this forest. A flutter, a little cry: it
was only a bird that was flying away, she watched
and was delighted.
They reached the edge of a big circus, encircled

with towering trees on different levels like an
amphitheatre; very distant from each other, they
looked like gods sizing each other. The wind was
shaking their round and hairy heads. These were
the beech trees; the forest was mostly the home of
beeches and the hornbeams. Behind them, like a
veil made with lace and gold threads, draping the

horizon: the plain. A dazzling green range
descended to the very bottom and went back to
the path that did not lead any further. The shade
of the trees was cutting large dark bands. A few
steps away, between rigid and thin stems of green,
a frail and capricious white glow was dancing,
shimmering in the light. The young girl ran: it was
a lily-of-the-valley; she crouched, she stretched
out her hand but the young man called out to her
with a reproachful tone:
"Charlotte! ... sitting like that and lost in the dark,
I can only see your pale eyes and you look like a
real flower of the woods, don't take away the joy
of your sister."
Saddened, she backed away. He loved flowers,

she knew it; at rue dAssas, there were always
some; she would have liked to buy him some; but
she would have needed to buy them with ' his
money'.
"Oh,Ric! I wanted to give it to you."
He went down as well, knelt in the grass beside

her, pulled out a book from his pocket and opened
it. He watched her gently flatten the white bells,
they were less fragrant than her kindness of her
naive confession.
"Little girl, how do you feel in our forest?"
"So well."
"Too well, its enchanted, you see; we must

defend ourselves, otherwise we would still be
here tonight..."
Henri was singing a verse from a poem by

Clment Marot:
Au temps de ma jeunesse folle
Je ressemblais l'hirondelle qui vole
"When I was young and wild,
I was like the flying swallow"
These trees were very beautiful, they leaned over

the way for more air; they soared very high, their
stripped bark was red as blood. Behind them, wild
boars were hiding in the thickets of Saint-Jean-
Aux-Feuilles; further away, they needed to cross
a dusty road rushing like a river between two
double rows of acacias and plane trees. They
crossed a grass circle, then walked along of the
Fond des Couleuvres, whose name alone was
enough to fill the young girl with terror, while
helping Charlotte to swim through the ferns,
Henri explained that a small grass snake, green
with a white belly, was a delightful creature and a
pleasure to find. A metallic sound emerged from
outside: Noon.
They left the forest through a meadow leading to

the gate of a small garden. A little blonde girl
about eight years old, cheerful and mischievous,
hands in the pockets of her pink apron, caught
sight of them and started to dance and she ran and

shouted:
"Monsieur Henris here. "
" Hello, Little Mmaine, come over here so that
we can see you. Give a kiss to my sister
Charlotte."
The girl's mother, Mrs Saguet, had flat hair and a

tanned complexion; she was tall, and leaning
against the wall of her cottage, indolent and hands
in the pockets of her blue apron, she looked at
them.
"Were hungry and thirsty, Mrs. Saguet."
"I'll bring the table out."
Henri helped her install the table in the shade

between two flowering apple trees at the back of
the garden. After this effort, Mrs Saguet put her
hands back in her pockets and admired the young
man who was arranging the cutlery.
"Will you give us a drink and take care of our
omelette."
The omelettes from Clary had a special and truly

exquisite favour, the very spicy cider could make
someone feel a little bit tipsy. Henri had
consented to drink some. Charlotte was laughing
very loudly as she was eating: two cats were
sitting on each side of her chair, one was red, the
one was grey - they were called Tape-a-L'il and
Mouille-Ta-Patte. A large black dog, with tawny
paws and snout, - his name was Faraud -, barked

when Charlotte forgot to pay attention to him.
"Come to me, my dog " Henri called "Young

ladies are superficial and only appreciate pretty
manners, come with me and learn philosophy ...
How are you feeling, Charlotte? "
"Very good."
"Not too tired?"
"Not really."
"Charlotte, if you want, we'll go to the fountain of
Mont-Aigu, from there you can see the Clary in all
its splendor. Look at Mmaine isn't she a very
pretty creature? "
Mmaine came running, her straw hat falling back

on her shoulders, her arms loaded with a fragrant
harvest for Miss Charlotte. Henri had never been
able to inspire in her the slightest respect for the
poor meadow flowers.
Mmaine was promoted chief leader of the

expedition, and they left for Mont-Aigu through
the ever so beautiful forest. This road was called
Laie-des-Charmes, and the hornbeams formed a
very high and very dark large nave. They took a
turn at the Cornillards crossroads; because Henry
wanted to book the donkey Jacquot from the
forest ranger to get back to the train-station in the
evening.
From there, they went down to La Rame, and

they saw a beautiful pond, a little overgrown with
reeds, and frequented by teal. The forest formed
an almost purple belt. Charlotte exclaimed:
"Ric!"
A beautiful deer was standing nearby with his

timid doe running around him, afraid of escaping
on her own. No doubt, they had come back from
drinking. The deer waited for a few seconds,
stared at them, and then jumped aside and both
animals disappeared into the bushes. Charlotte,
happy to have finally seen them, tried to follow
their tawny coat with her eyes.
Memaine was following a small stream, looking

barely like a silver wire, and stated that they
would soon arrive at the fountain. Beautiful grey
rocks littered the path, long and beautiful grass
snakes glided silently, often the small silver wire
disappeared; Mmaine then stopped, sighed, and
moved again:
"Sir, listen, this is it."
There is was. It was gushing between two stones,

jumping bravely and spreading in a small clear
puddle, laughing like only small children can.
Across, they saw Clary and his plain, both bathed
in light, as calm as if they had been so sure of their
right to make their own way through the world,
that the spring was certain of reaching the great

ocean.
"Charlotte," Henri said, "Look into the fountain,

it custom here to make a wish, so I'll do it for
you: I wish you listen to its advice and leave to its
picture of you all the sadness of your eyes."
"Ric!"
He kissed her brown cheek, he had not planned

that, and found it as downy as a peach; a little
unhappy with himself, he asked: "Give it back to
me. "
She wanted to kiss him with all her heart, but her
lips only knew how to give him a shy kiss.
Now Mmaine demanded her turn.
" Like Faraud? "
" Like Faraud. "
The night was setting, there were already large

parts of wood entirely dipped in shadows.
Charlotte was now tired and was trailing her feet.
"Give me your arm, I'll recite The Evening song
and you will sing it with Mmaine This will help
us . "
"Does Memaine know it? "
Mmaine knew very well:

The wood is dark,
All filled with shadows,
Oh hush!
Smell the moss
At our feet so sweet,
Watch your steps.
Sun!
In the bushes
On our knees.
our arms outstretched,
with our bewildered hearts
We beg you,
This is not the time,
Remain with us,
a little bit
Let's sing.
Sun!
Let's Sing about the joy of your light
And the beauty of this divine day.
That all hope of this earth
Inside us, with the wind,
Will reach you and follow you

Until the morning
Through the dark nights,
In our memories
We see you again,
And this is how we want to live
Endless days. Ah! ah! ah!"
Mrs. Saguet was outside the door waiting for

them, saying; "It's pretty, very pretty". The guard
and Jacquot were already there, the donkey began
braying with its lamentable voice, not
harmoniously at all: and the all ah! ah! stopped
right away.
The table was set in the same way as during

lunchtime, Henri and Charlotte could barely see
each other, despite facing each other. Mrs Saguet
said that they were late; yet they still needed to
wait for their cup of warm milk, their hard-boiled
eggs, and a shawl that the young man had asked
for the girl. Charlotte did not bring her jacket with
her and the evenings at Clary were fresh:
"This shawl, Mrs. Saguet, when do we need bring
back the shawl?"
"Well, next time. Goodbye Henri, goodbye
Charlotte."
The night was magnificent, so full of stars. Henri

was holding Charlotte tightly against him,
because it was cold and because the roads were
bad and Jacquot was very capricious, the bumps
in the carriage were sudden and hard. The wind
blew the hair of the girl towards the right and the
left on both their faces. Birds called to each other
from one tree to another; a small red glow was
shining in the woods. The hut of a woodcutter
who was still awake.
"Alone maybe ..." she said in a pitying emphasis

"You 'll never be alone again, Charlotte."
She did not answer him. Henri was distracted by

his deep thoughts, while answering the warden
who was encouraging his beast. He still felt her
soft lips on his cheek. Why was she so quickly
diverted? And her abandonment now, was it just
because she was very tired? He saw himself as a
very young boy, in a photograph inside Uncle
Pierre's photograph album timidly holding to his
heart one of Sonia's dolls as if he were afraid of
breaking it. This is how, he was holding Charlotte
that night, his throbbing temples and his anxious
beating heart. How come he was getting so
anxious about every glance and every gesture
from that small creature which both so naive and
so complex? His sister might have received his
letter by now, what would she think? What would
she say?
At the back of the plain, the lights of the little

town were beginning to appear, so pale, they were
struggling badly against the dying clarity of the
twilight. The shape of the forest loomed
majestically like an impressive and mysterious
mass. On the horizon, the sky seemed to merge
with it.
Henri called her:
"Charlotte, don't fall asleep here... It's too cold.
Make one last effort, look at this beautiful forest I
like it so much, it's a true integral equation: Were

born in it, we rejoice in it, we suffer in it, we die
in it. Leaves, grass, earth, smile and tears, nothing
exists except what remains of it, the beauty she
can make with the sun, with shade, just like life."
Charlotte barely lifted her eyelids: the fresh air,

walking and the cider had made her sleepy; she
murmured:
"Oh yes, Ric, but I cant see life without you."
Three hours later, as they were drinking a hot

toddy in a caf in front of the station, Charlotte
was astonished to find her friend so complacent,
so kind, he always seemed happy, and yet she had
behaved so terribly: she had not said hello in the
morning, and she could not quite remember what
she had done this evening. He had made her walk
quickly on the platform, put into a compartment
or sled, or a bed. Mother caught her, because she
had found her hiding place; but in fact it was Miss
Buchs, and it was Ric who kissed her. they
travelled quickly, while the wind roared and
wailed from both sides. she had fallen into a hole.
at the bottom, her father was waiting for her.
She had woken up screaming in a roar of whistles,

chugging sounds, white lights, red lights, green
lights, blue lights. Henri still held her against him,
he whispered to her:
"It's nothing, my little soul, weve just arrived in

big Paris."
Henri helped her put her hat back on, while two
ladies, one old, one young, were watching them
with curiosity, probably because it was bad
manners to sleep in the arms of a young man in
front of everyone. Charlotte was still red,
troubled; and also shivering. The dream - was it
this hole, or the whole day, and the forest? His
friend did not avert his eyes from her, while
drinking a cup of tea. He said he was three
minutes before midnight, when they should arrive
at ten forty-one. This company's Pgase trains
were always more than an hour late when they
returned; but why complain as long as none was
killed in an accident? If Charlotte wished so,
Henri would bring the bouquet of meadow
flowers to Sraphine, on her behalf.
chapter 13
The month of June marks the start of the low-

season for florists and Dcoiffers was almost
deserted; only Charlotte was working there and
Mr Dcoiffer gave her about twenty centimes a
day. Armandine and Martha had gone to work in
feathers: they were crafting birds. Armandine had
shown Charlotte, but Henri did not want her to
leave Dcoiffer's, since she was on her own and
had some peace and quiet, it was better for her to
stay there until Sonia's arrival. Besides, Charlotte
would not earn enough working in feathers to take
two cabs in a day. A little rest would not come
amiss. Anyway, she needed to go to Rue d'Assas,
where Sraphine had found some occupation for
her, or else she could also practise her piano.
And so, Charlotte spent almost all her afternoons

at Henri Lethor's. She came for lunch on the days
when Henris course at the Sorbonne finished at
eleven o'clock so he could see her for a bit, he said
he would work better in the evening when facing
Mr. Hama. The rest of the time when he was not
in his classes, he remained in the study room
asking not to be disturbed. Charlotte stayed with

Sraphine in the dining-room where they sewed
clothes for the small children whom Sonia was
looking after. Sometimes, Henri gave them papers
or books and they had to insert the pages in the
lining, otherwise, Sonia would not have received
those.
Sraphine was extremely kind to the young girl,

and kissed her when she arrived. The windows
were wide open for Charlotte, as Henri had
decided that she needed air, the sun also shone
inside; laughter could be heard outside as well the
chirping of birds. Charlotte understood that Henri
told his housekeeper that she was very poor, and
she may not pass her A-levels this year because
she had so much work to do at the workshop this
year, and she did not have a literature teacher.
Very conscientiously, the old lady asked
Charlotte to write short essays in French; this task
delighted her, as it reminded her of her dear little
Sophie. The essays were sent to Sonia. About four
o'clock, Henri came out of his study to read them
while, leaning on the back of his friend's chair,
almost resting his cheek against hers; Charlotte
became all rosy. Great discussions arose between
him and Sraphine, he never wanted her to correct
anything.
"But the curriculum, my child, theres a
curriculum to follow."
"Humbug ..."
Then they had afternoon tea, afterwards Henri

played music for them.
Sraphine was also working on a small grey-

brown linen dress for Charlotte which she could
wear on Sundays when travelling to Clary with
Sonia. In exchange, the girl had to provide
countless little tasks that Miss de Boves prized far
above their value: matching the woolen threads
for the square roller-frame embroidery - Eulalie
had no taste, and Henri always got it wrong; she
also had to close the windows in the other rooms
because Henri always left them open. None of
these rooms, except Sraphine's and Eulalie's, had
curtains nor carpet, Charlotte naively thought that
this was an attribute of wealth. The rooms were
barely furnished. In Henri's room, there was a
single brass bed and a sofa, covered with
bearskins, similar to the one in the adjacent study.
There were books on the mantelpiece, on the
floor, and almost everywhere else. The en-suite
bathroom also opened on the
hallway. Everywhere the young man went, a
terrible noise of doors and hinged windows could
be heard. One door was always closed: Miss
Sonias apartment Eulalie said.
Sraphine and Eulalie were very talkative;

Sraphine constantly spoke about her daughters,
the two Sonias, the dead one and the one that was
still alive, but living outside life. She also spoke

about young Ric. He would have been lovely
without his flaws which were the same as his
father's, but Sonia had encouraged those. He had
a mania to fiddle with the clocks, open all the
windows in any kind of weather, he could not
suffer crowds, nor clutter, nor contrariety, and he
lived as if he was alone. His poor dear Papa was
the same during the happy days when he was
courting his poor dear Maman.
After stirring her memories in a slow voice, Miss

de Boves fell asleep. Then Eulalie, having
finished cleaning the dishes, also came down to
the dining room to sew. She was kind to Charlotte
who helped her with the housework, and who
went outside to pick up forgotten errands. Eulalie
suffered from memory lapses; this was due to the
fact that she had been very unhappy because her
late husband used to beat her and take all her
money, and that is why she became a domestic
servant although she was not used to the job.
Charlotte listened to her, without saying anything
substantial; Henri had warned her: since the death
of her husband, Eulalie had been cherishing his
memory, none could say anything bad about the
man without offending her. He suggested that this
was a great way of getting rid of her when she was
becoming too boring. By her own admission,
Eulalie enjoyed working with the Lethors,
although life there was not always rosy. With the
young gentleman's fads, one never knew the time

and there was a good chance of catching a cold.
Mr Ric and Miss Sonia also had strange friends,
admittedly very few, and the latter only came
rarely because they were always travelling;
however, they would arrive without giving any
warning and Eulalie was not able to understand
what they did. There was this man aged sixty, he
had grey hair, he always wore a patch over one
eye, and he dressed very shabbily: he claimed to
be a doctor of cabala and hermetics
Another commensal of the house, thankfully

absent, was a lady called Miss Vera. Ah! She
would not come for dinner once in a blue moon
but rather stay for weeks on end. She was one of
Miss Sonia's childhood friend and a compatriot.
Nothing was ever right to her. and she certainly,
would not appreciate the company of Miss
Charlotte, although she was also a student. She
was always arguing with Mr Ric, gesticulating,
and shouting very loudly; in fact, the only time
Monsieur became angry, it was with her and they
argued in Russian, Eulalie did not know the
reason. She added that Miss de Boves had been
very happy that Henri had found a new pupil, as
he had been dinning outside without giving any
explanation to anyone. he had always done
whatever took his fancy, and he spent a lot of his
money that he received every month from Russia
by stamped and re-stamped letters.
Charlotte listened, answered just enough to keep

the conversation going, yet she feared questions
about herself from the investigative Eulalie. She
envied Vera, happy Vera who spoke Russian. In
Charlotte's mind, Vera was a beautiful persecuted
young woman who might marry Henri Lethor
one day. They said that he was arguing with her,
but he also scolded Charlotte.
One evening he asked:

"Where did your mother live when you left? "
Charlotte replied and shivered; he added:
"Sonia was asking about her. Please, don't get
worried, my little soul. So do you never hear from
her? "
"No, I dont."
"How strange. I'm sorry, let me write the address
down."
Charlotte was lying: she had received a second

letter from her mother, telling her that she was
aware of her misconduct as she was seen on the
streets with a fair-haired man who wore
outrageous clothes. She was summoning her to
come home as soon as possible, otherwise her
parents would put her in a convent for repentant
girls, in the rue Saint-Jacques, - its rules were
enclosed to the letter - . Charlotte was not afraid
of the threat, but she was thinking about her past.
In her mind, the man who was supposed to be her

father had dishonored her. She remembered
having been very ill, and she connected her
memories to an anecdote overheard at Dcoiffer's.
Ernest Dcoiffer told a story that Martha had
dismissed as a joke: a furniture dealer had married
the daughter of an antiquarian and had returned
the girl the next morning saying: "Go tell your
father that I only deal with brand-new items. "
Martha bragged that she could easily pass for the

Virgin Mary if that was a man's fantasy. Everyone
at the workshop knew about deflowered maidens
who were married in white gowns and crowned
with orange blossoms, but they had not found
their married bliss : either their husbands threw
them out or the marriage was terrible. Martha
replied that if these women had been virgins,
things have been the same for them.
Charlotte thought that Henri certainly loved her.

What would become of her? She now needed to
confess everything; would he not forgive her
undeserved misfortune, since she demanded
nothing and accepted that he would leave her one
day? And she knew very well she would not live
after that day, because nothing was darker and
more terrible than her own isolation. She was
surprised that he still was not mentioning
anything. But Sonia was coming soon, what
decision would she take? All these thoughts made

Charlotte shiver and she could not hide her
apprehension when she assumed he was about to
say something before leaving. No, that night, for
a long time he was kissing her hands. These hands
were trembling like poor frightened captive
chicks and this felt like, in the beginning, when
they were dating.
"See you tomorrow, Charlotte?"
"Yes, please."
He gently looked her in the eyes and he felt a little

sad.
Henri had passed his exam. To the surprise of the

young girl, he did not express any great joy; he
merely sent a strange telegram to Sonia:
"Passed, now do what I asked you."
Charlotte learned about the contents during the

discussion at dinner. Sraphine found Henris
way of giving orders to his sister very
disrespectful. As long as Sonia did not respond to
the message, Henri would not write any more
letters, and threatened to put an embargo on
Sraphines too, even if he needed to keep watch
in the antechamber. He said that there was no
respect and that Sonia had no reason to make him
suffer. Charlotte remained discreet, she did not
ask for further information, however, she was a

bit sad that her friend did not trust her enough to
share his sorrows with her. During these four
days, Henri was irritable and nervous. Eulalie
explained that this was because Mr Henri had
nothing to do; however, on Sunday at eleven
o'clock, upon her arrival, Charlotte saw him at the
bottom of the stairs. He had waited for her the
window and had come down to meet her. She was
struck by his happy mood, and Sraphine's gentle
face as she kissed her several times.
After lunch, when all three were alone again,

Charlotte learned from Sraphine that Sonia
would arrive in two weeks, Henri would meet her
in Berlin at the beginning of the following week.
Sonia would stay one month in Paris then take
them both, he and Charlotte, to Russia, to see
Uncle Pierre for the holidays. Almost suffocated
by happiness, the girl cried:
"I, Ric, me and you!"
Standing at back of her chair, he leaned towards

her:
"True, its true, youre going to be so happy."
He stopped, then he smiled and he handed her a
letter:
"This is from Sonia, for you. "
He pulled back a little and Charlotte read:

dear Miss Charlotte,

When I used to come home in the evening like
tonight, very tired from my visits to the villages,
and, overwhelmed by my helplessness and my
weakness, I thought about my brother and it
comforted me, now I think about you , because he,
he is you.
Apparently, he has not told you yet. True things

are so deep and beautiful for those who feel them,
and expressing them in words is never enough. So
you do not know ... this comes to me as a surprise:
If you are like him, why do you need words to
understand each other? And could I express
myself any better, I who love you without knowing
you? It is enough for me that he chose with his
mind and with his heart . On my table, I have a
packet of letters; from the first to the last, there
are about you, only you, always you. You are very
naive, very gentle, very scholarly, very weak, very
courageous, white as ivory, pink like a rose,
gilded like beautiful fruit in autumn. Are your
eyes grey, blue, or green? The colour of the
rainbow, I guess. You are still a small warbler
with black feathers, and you sing like a stream.
Crazy, he is so crazy, my brother; indeed, it is true
that you are his love; he does not talk, he
digresses.
When we were studying together, Ric and myself,

I often thought about the one who, would take my

place by his side one day, and I have cherished
her in my heart. The heart of women, like that of
men being evil and impenetrable, I started to feel
a little jealous, hence I delayed writing this letter
for a long time. I was worried as well. Forgive
me, my brother is both my child and my friend, my
expectation and my consolation. What If you did
not love him? But I also have a bunch of other
letters in front of me, they were written by our
dear old Sraphine who told me what a delightful
young girl you are. - you bring joy to the eyes, and
joy to the hearts, you are enchanting and full of
life, and you love our little Ric. She knows about
these things.
My sister Charlotte, they also told me again that

you experienced sad days, forgive me for crying,
it's not over you. I remember another night such
as this on, Jacques and I were talking about of our
future plans; we were emotional, quietly we
looked at each other. He kissed me. A great clarity
was in our souls, and we felt stronger than all the
evil in the world. I never saw him again, not even
for a last farewell, but since then I have learned
that nothing good and true can ever die. We hope,
others take their turn and realize that they are
hoping too. Give a kiss to your fianc, my sweet
little girl. I have loved him with all the affection
that I had dedicated to my defunct hopes. He will
love you as Jacques loved me. "
your S.-I. Lethor "
Charlotte stood up she was all pale and could not

utter a word. Henri kissed her, held her in his arms
whispering crazy and tender words. Sraphine
was crying, and kissing her. Henry felt a little
uneasy at the young girl's silence, so he asked
leave her alone and he wanted to take him to the
other room, but Sraphine insisted on telling, for
days Ric was writing to Sonia to tell her about his
feelings for Charlotte. At first, Sonia insisted, that
they waited for her arrival, but as always Mr Ric
was rushing things through. His sister was
worried that being so in love with his pupil, the
pair of them did not do much work. He passed his
exam, and this is what had influenced Sonias
decision.
"You at least youll be happy, my children, and

Ill die happy."
"Dying, Sraphine! And our children, please?
Who will take care of them? "
"Oh, Ric , don't start talking about children ,
youre rushing things . "
" Leave me, leave my little soul."
When they were alone, she was sitting in the

rocking-chair, he on his little bench, he took her
hands:
"My darling, perhaps I did something wrong, I
should have consulted with you before asking
Sonia to write to you, but I was sure that you

loved me. I believe since that evening in Clary,
when you told me ... It was almost a dream ... you
said ... do you remember? "
"I ... no, I dont."
"You said: I cant see life without you. It was so
good to hear that and at the same time what I
found it frightening. I wanted, and you were
asleep! I kissed you,..! My darling, it was wrong
of me to kiss your lips by surprise, but you said
my name again, so softly that I thought I was an
angel of the sky hiding under your eyelids. That
same evening, you woke up, and seemed timid
and, suspicious. Ever since, I've known you have
always been with me like a poor leaf that believes
that it has been set aside, to be grazed at
someone's leisure. My darling, my darling dear, I
have loved you, I love you, I love you, you don't
doubt it anymore? "
"No, oh no!"
He waited. Silent, pale and trembling, she was not

looking at him. She had been full of joy, and then
when she read the letter, she saw that a simple
thing, fatal logic had arrived, and she did not
know what to think of it.
Henri's voice sounded hesitant when he said:

"Maybe you don't understand Sonia. She didn't
want to write, because she couldn't understand.
She was raised as a free creature. She and Jacques
didn't need anyone to say they loved each other,

but I didn't want any misunderstanding, I didn't
want you to feel anxious. you're always so
emotional, my fairy, like a beautiful crystal that
sings to the slightest touch. Therefore, I wanted
you to find out about my love, and that you had
nothing to fear from any of my loved ones. They
all love you very much."
Tears slid down to Charlotte cheeks, her lips

moved, no sound came out. She dared not look up
as she his pale questioning eyes, were wanting to
meet her gaze to read her innermost thoughts. He
let go of her hands and stepped back:
"Charlotte, I understand that you can't answer me
right now. What you told me unintentionally, is it
possible that you can't repeat with your own free
will? I should give you time to think about it, but
I can't live in doubt any longer. If I was wrong, if
this frank affection expressed unconsciously was
not what I thought, but simply ... gratitude, you
should tell me at once, and be brave. Neither
Sraphine nor Sonia would abandon you."
She barely heard the last words he said as his

voice became faint. She looked up, saw him
standing there and looking very pale, so she stood
up:
"Ric."
He opened his arms:
"Charlotte, do you love me? Youre so strange."
"Yes," she said in a whisper, " it's true, I ... I can't

see life without you... for a long time. only I think
... that ... that ... you needn't marry me. "
He sat with her in the rocking chair, holding her

against him, thought for a brief moment and said:
"If you mean that we have no need for God nor
society, I perfectly agree, but Sonia believes in
doing what society asks in order to avoid
complications with your parents."
Sonia would fix everything. Out of his desk

drawer, he took out some letters they were going
to read together later, and as she was still pale and
silent, he asked:
"Were you unwell this morning, Charlotte?"
"No, I wasnt."
"Yes, I think so because you have been ill for so
long, I know that even if you don't say so. I think
Sonia will be able to help you with that. Do you
remember, my darling, when I promised to teach
you that you did not know? I wasn't ambitious
enough, you don't know how to be happy.
Now, I'm worried about you, but I will teach you
if you love me. Do you love me, Charlotte?"
" Ric ... I ... "
"Charlotte!"
" I love you, " she put her arms around his neck
and sadly looked at him. " I love you, only you
need to help me, I don't know how to speak well,
I know what I am and what you are. You can't
love me. Don't love me, I don't want you to love

me, Ric, I have to tell you .... it's choking me ....
and ... Im yours ... "
He hugged her and whispered, gently stroking her

hair:
"Youre mine? And would I take your whole life
without giving you mine? Do you believe me
capable of this? And you would still love me? I
don't understand any of it."
Her head resting on his shoulder, she murmured:

"You havent told Sonia where you met me?"
"It's true, I didnt tell her, because I needed to put
things in writing, but well tell her as soon as she
meets you, my scrupulous darling. Mind you, it's
true, we did meet in a bad place, but you've told
me everything and all evil is gone. Sonia will
know that. I haven't forgotten anything, I
wouldnt forget a single minute that I have lived
with you, because in the past and in the future, I
can't have a thought that isnt about you. I love
you Charlotte - for days and days, this thought has
been stifling me, was it possible that you didnt
understand? Now Im happy to be finally able to
talk to you. I said that I had thought not seeing
you again, I could not have, my darling, all the
time I was thinking about you, I was hearing you
cry. I made you suffer so much by forcing you to
tell you what you did with Martha, but if I had
realized that I had done wrong on the day we met,
it would have hurt me. My beautiful flower when

I think that another man could have taken you, my
heart is breaking; you have been lonely, forsaken,
for so long, this is why you became a closed little
soul, so prone to suffering. Ill take you far away,
where we live, would you like that? "
"Oh yes, please ... very far away."
"You won't see anything, you won't hear
anything, you won't know anything that isnt from
me, and I love you as Ill make you an enchanted
world and that you love me like crazy, because I
want it so because I'm crazy about you. Love it's
scary, I never thought it would be! My youth,
Sonia, Science, freedom, it's you, Charlotte, kiss
me and dare to tell me that you don't want me to
love you. "
He let her little head slide on the back of the

rocking-chair and sat on the bench. He kissed her
fingers, one by one, reciting:
"Charlotte, my joy, Charlotte my life."
"Ric."
"My darling, you do? Earlier, I felt so bad when
you did not answer me. Now I'm like a survivor
from a shipwreck, I don't want to think any longer
about others nor whether your parents could come
and take you away from to me. "
Sonia would see Mr. and Mrs. Bugeot. Sonia

always made things happen, and Henri was
relaxed about it, she had never known how to
resist him. He would prove to her that he could

not continue existing without his Charlotte.
He pulled the rocking-chair to the piano:
"Let me play something for you."
Sitting beside him, leaning on the arm of her chair

with her head on her hand, Charlotte wept
silently. Henri understood that she was crying
over old mistakes as for her outrageous proposal
she had just made asking him not to marry him.
He was not looking for any other reason than the
sensitivity and righteousness from a little soul he
believed he knew so well. She loved him enough
to sacrifice herself, to give without expecting
anything, Henri was intoxicated. He forgot that he
could have felt offended, and he was playing with
his whole soul. He felt in harmony with her tears,
he would forever banish all the sorrows from that
unknown unworthy dark world, which had made
her so fragile.
Charlotte was lost in thoughts. To her, matters

were simple, she only saw that she had lied, that
she would benefit from this marriage proposal as
if she was a schemer and it was impossible to
remain quiet any longer. Above all, she felt a
huge, raging, scary, scary yes, as he said, need to
be happy. Henri loved her, he loved her; this day

at least, should she not take it?
"Ric!"
chapter 14
The next day came and went, Charlotte said

nothing about her father, when and how to talk
about such a thing? She was still working at
Dcoiffer's. She wanted Sonia to see for herself
that Henri and herself were reasonable creatures,
she was at work and that if she had not passed her
baccalaurat-A levels, it was not her fault.
Charlotte worked for about two hours a day then
Henri picked her at ten to bring her home for
lunch. Afterwards, they went together to the Bois
de Boulogne; her friend felt that she needed fresh
air, he was convinced that she was anemic.
Dressed in greyish-brown dress and a lace
mantilla presented to her by Sraphine, she was
delightful and her fianc kept on telling her that.
She raised her beautiful eyes, and said very softly
while holding his hand:
"My Friend, my friend,"
It was never the time nor the place for horrible

confessions.
That day, they returned home only at about six

o'clock, Henri had bought flowers to fill the whole
house; at least the poor things were fading for his
beloved. He was going to pick up Sonia in Berlin,
and stay four days with their friends, the
Kindermanns; now he only wanted to stay for two
days. The Kindermanns were very kind, he liked
them very much, but he felt that he didn't need to
see them that often. He wondered whether it never
occurred to Sonia that the time of pilgrimages to
win the heart of his beloved was no longer
fashionable. A postcard from Uncle Pierre
reached them, he was welcoming this pretty
French girl who, despite doing science, had great
hair and did not wear glasses, he wrote that he was
waiting impatiently for their arrival.
Sraphine was astonished that Henri, now that he

had what he wanted, could not keep calm and was
eager to get married. He was never happy, never.
He did not give her any answer, he kissed
Charlotte instead:
"My darling, youre here, Im happy, so happy."
After dinner, he played music. They were alone

only when they were going back to rue Flocon.
Henri then requested her not to speak while telling
her that she had a fever, and he did not stop
talking. She remained curled up in his arms, like
a trusting little bird feeling cold while trying to

find some courage:
"Ric, listen to me, you are young ...."

"Yes, and you arent (!). Do you seriously believe
that?"
"Don't laugh, I want to tell you something, I didn't
tell you everything ..."
She stopped as she was very embarrassed.
"But I'm listening. Really, Charlotte, so youre

keeping secrets from me, was your Man with
Glove angry when he found out?"
"No, he wasnt"
"He wasnt? My crazy naive darling, kiss me."
He was really too cheerful and she could not to

say it immediately, without preparation. She
hesitated, then she said:
"My parents are poor, they didn't like me and
they'll give me nothing, not even furniture and
you are so rich."
"Wrong, my darling, I am poor."
His father and his mother had never been married;

Sonia and him would not inherit anything. From
his first day, Henry had lived on charity. this made
no difference: without charity, he could have

lived and found a way of doing
mathematics. Uncle Pierre had his ideas. When
Sonia was due to marry Jacques, himself a rich
man, the uncle arranged for a dowry to his niece,
so that was financially independent. He would
probably do the same for his nephew, because
Sonia had written that he had to consider that
society had not given Charlotte the means to
ensure her much-needed freedom to live a decent
existence, therefore they would take a share from
Henri's amount to give her a dowry. Henri had not
talked about these things, because he did not want
to bother the girl with money worries.
"Give me a dowry?"
"You, my dear, in case, I hit you, so you could
leave our house."
"I don't want that."
"Tell that to Sonia. Why antagonize her? If the
'myself' inside me decided to hit you, it will hit
you. But I only want to kiss you, Charlotte, my
gentle, my beautiful, my darling brown bee. "
"Ric! "
"My darling, I gave you a kiss, you took it, youre
in debt - in a dependent situation where you can't
fend for yourself. "
"Yes, I love you."
It was such happiness that made Henri wonder

whether he was still alive:
" My fairy, when I'm holding you, I feel the need

to call you Charlotte, Charlotte and later, after
you've left me Ill believe that youre with me, Ill
open my arms and realize that I'm wrong."
She said quickly:

"I wish I could never leave you. "
"It might happen."
"Listen to me, Ric: the people with whom I lived
with were much more evil and worse than you
may think ... my father drank ..."
"Yes, I understand, my little soul, were going to
need his consent and hell say that he needs help.
You see Sonias right, yourself youll help
yourself as you deem necessary and suitable. I
beg of you, forget about these things, don't make
yourself ill. Think of me, Charlotte, I'm so happy,
were going to be so happy."
It was very simple. When they returned from

Russia at the start of the winter, they would move
all of Charlottes possessions into Henri's room,
including the Man with a Glove, the pink
lampshade and her dear Pascal. She would
prepare her A-levels very seriously this time, and
he, his certificates. Afterwards they would do
Science. There was no need to believe they would
be insanely rich as long as Henri could not earn
money himself, but obviously it would be enough
to occasional book a booth to the Arlsienne, and
relive together that beautiful evening when she

was so adorable:
"Do you remember the Farandole dance?"
"Yes, but I didn't know that I loved you. I realized
that after when you didn't come..."
"Really?"
She was such an exquisite little darling; Henri

himself, had always had a natural inclination to
malice, he needed to admit it. About that time, he
began to nurture some bad ideas about her.
Charlotte was so shy, never asking for anything,
he had believed that she was not moved, not
interested. Charlotte had eyes that did not see, and
ears that did not hear, but Henri had feet... to walk.
Miss Martha was looking at him in such a way
that he wanted to reply to her he was not really an
animal from the Apocalypse. Nowadays, Henri
knew that Charlotte had seen so many terrible
things, she could not believe him and therefore
doubted him; he wasn't offended.
"And Ive cried a lot, listen to me, Ric, because I

understood, because I understand that what
youre doing is madness and if Sonia ... listen to
me, I want you to tell Sonia, right away, and I
didn't want you to love me, so she can see that I
wasn't a ... not a ... "
He stamped his foot impatiently and said a little

harshly:
"Charlotte, you're making me angry. Sonia will

know the truth, - agreed - Now I beseech you,
don't be afraid of her she is idealistic and ethereal,
but indulgence herself. She will forgive us both.
Now, I want you to stop talking about this subject,
I wont allow you, do you hear me? I won't allow
you to blaspheme against yourself, my wife
whom I revere as my sister ... "
"Ric ."
"Same as the memory of my mother about whom
Sraphine and Sonia have so often spoken to me,
like you she was a very honest, very generous
creature. now youre crying, sorry, my darling,
my sweet darling. How can you be troubled by
these things, believe that .... I can't even imagine
what you believe. My heart would break before I
could doubt you Charlotte. My mother was
beautiful, rich, happy, popular, and she followed
my father who knew everything that she was
leaving behind and in return had to offer but his
life, and he took her like I would take you if we
were in their shoes. They became equally poor,
depending only on their hearts. While we,
because others will rejoice with us instead of
cursing us. And because we won't have to suffer
from poverty, won't we work anyway? Won't we
love each other less? Be a little stoic, since you
like this philosophy. we must see things on earth
from a high place. When were like this, arent we
far away from everything, outside the world, and
what remains in this world, isnt it indifferent to
us? You think so, if you love me. Look at me, I

love your eyes, its true that they are rainbow in
the sky, the infinite colors of every weather."
He kissed her. If only she could die right now!

This idea came to Charlotte with the
foreknowledge that she would not speak, she
could never speak out; at the same time, she felt
the need to keep on trying again, but since she had
not been able to say anything right away, why not
wait until his departure?
"Darling, we'll get bored with paperwork however

let's be reasonable creatures. Some people earn a
living by doing paperwork, we can't take their
livelihood away. I love you, darling, neither you
nor I decided it, sweet life itself did. Only listen
to its voice, it is the truth, she only wants our
happiness; and we'll give her what she wants from
us - little children. "
Sonia loved children, so did Uncle Pierre. They

would all look like their mother. Henri spoke as if
he was already seeing them running around.
Charlotte would teach them, because she was
gentle, patient and that himself was so irritable.
Charlotte preferred above all a small blonde girl
as in Sonia's portrait, and the little one would also
be called Sonia. She spoke with such passion
about the girl of her dreams and Henri protested:
"No, I do not want that: you'll love her too much.

If we get a little Sonia, we'll give her to
Sraphine.."
And so, every evening, she let him build their

future; really, she was living it. Cheerful and
caressing, she laughed, approved, discussed. She
was surprised to hear herself talk as if those words
had come out of another mouth than hers.
Some time ago, Henri had a little ring made for

her. He could not give it her. Sonia would do that,
but he always carried it with him and liked her to
try it on. It represented two small golden snakes
entwined, with their flat heads flat set with
diamond eyes and crossed one over the other. It
looked strange, pretty, almost alive. Charlotte
admired it, and kissed it:
"A little girl."
Back home in her bed, she could not sleep. She

tried to think only about his last kiss and its
flavour on her lips. She looked at her hands; when
he chatted to her before leaving, he played with
them, pressed them, stroke them, kissed them, so
much so, that Charlotte felt that they belonged to
him and that they had been sanctified. Yet, despite
everything, obsessive thoughts came back to
haunt her, especially Mr Dcoiffers story about
the antiquarians daughter; then she thought about
seeing Martha to tell her everything and ask her
advice. Then she got up, re-read Sonia's letter and

Pascal until dawn. Then she finally slept for two
or three hours. Because of her insomnia, she
became feverish, her eyes were shining, her
cheeks were rosy. Henri said that he had never
seen her looking so beautiful but he was
concerned that her hands felt so hot. He was
counting on convincing Sonia to leave
immediately for Clary; after all, they could rent a
house. Sraphine who disliked travelling was
indignant about the idea.
Henri was still busy with arranging Charlotte's

life during his absence. It was agreed that she
would come and go like now, but she would
return home after dinner by cab at nine hours
o'clock. He was concerned by these return
journeys. He found it increasingly difficult to
leave her; hence his impatience for Sonia's
arrival; he was annoyed that she had felt the need
to make a few stops on the way. Charlotte was not
well, he was sure of that, she was really too
nervous, touchy and sensitive.
Did Sonia think seeing the Kindermanns was

helpful to them? Could she not rather come here
right away and settle their affairs? Sonia was not
a rational person and why did she need to travel
the world? All the women were like that, trying to
make things right when it was not the right time.
"Really, you are unkind to your fiance,"

Sraphine said, looking at the girl, but Charlotte
very pale, remained absorbed in her constant
concern, and with difficulty she held back from
shouting that Henri was right, that she could no
longer wait. He looked at her, became worried
again, and went close to her:
"Forgive me my darling, the only kind one in this
world."
Then she smiled, she let herself be kissed, and led

to the piano; she would have loved him to play
forever and forget about everything, but Henri
only played two or three pieces, as he preferred
chatting: he owned quantities of photographs and
albums brought from everywhere. They would
look at those sitting in the rocking chair which
they shared. She questioned him passionately, she
believed that she was able to live his enchanted
days. He explained he had seen everything in
great haste, and finding these things in his
memory, it was as if he understood them for the
first time, as if Charlotte lent him her beautiful
eyes to see them again; similarly, when he
recalled the heydays of his happy youth. He had
never cherished his family as much as today now
that Charlotte had given him her sweet loving
heart. He was only angry at Sonia because he
could see that Charlotte was really too tired, with
a poor tormented face, and a diminishing waist.
Henri did not want this, if Charlotte listened to

reason, she would sleep in the morning instead of
going to the workshop. It would not be for much
longer, Sonia would arrive in a few days, and both
of them would nurse Charlotte back to health,
they would love her, she should be certain of that.
It felt so good to love her, she was so sensitive,
and touched by the slightest attention.
They kissed. It seemed to Charlotte that

everything about Henri came from the light, and
she too could be like him if only she could find
the courage to unburden herself. Maybe he would
make it go away. He rocked her in his arms,
anxious, without saying anything she was
suddenly so silent; he promised to bring her back
home early in the evening. They were always
going home late; it was not only because he found
it too difficult to say goodnight but he dreaded
leaving her alone in that room, where she had
been through such bad times. Once Sonia arrived,
pending the settlement of this marriage, she
would ask Charlotte at stay at theirs.
The day before his departure, they agreed that

Charlotte would not go to work. Henri picked her
up at around six o'clock. For the second time, he
visited her home. He arranged her recalcitrant
curls and placed this masterpiece of a hat on the
head of his fiance. He looked out of the window
then he locked the door and carried Charlotte
downstairs. He liked to show her that he was very

strong. She did not want that, as she afraid of
falling, so she escaped, but he quickly caught up
with her, cheating, jumping six steps at a time. He
kissed her through her veil, everywhere on her
face.
"Oh, Ric, you are going to tear it"
She agreed to remove it and so they continued

kissing, their laughter brought out the concierge.
Henri bravely greeted:
"Hello Madam",
Then he led Charlotte outside. She was redder
than a poppy.
They lunched very far away at Saint-Cloud, in a

large park. Charlotte was cheerful, all the time she
kept on asking for things. He loved to please and
get paid:
"Please, kiss me."
She offered her lips to him, her little face had an

ardent and serious expression, and looked striking
and pale, confused, he kissed her and felt his heart
beating.
Then Charlotte wanted to go for a walk. All the

time she spoke about Clary. Henri feared that
Sonia may not agree to leave her Sraphine
behind whom she loved so much. They were
alone in a park alley, he stealthily kissed her

cheek and they began to talk about their journey.
They would go wherever Charlotte decided, they
would stop where she wanted, as long as she
wanted. Since she did not know the mountains,
maybe they could visit the Vosges on the way. He
wanted was that none no longer had any rights
over her, she should be free from all fears, at
peace.
" But I am. "

"No, you arent my darling, but well ask Sonia.
Shell seek your parents consent, believe me,
they won't stand in our way, why should they?"
Two men walked on by, turned their heads at the

young girl, so dark in her pale dress and lace and
looking so in love. She did not see them, she was
all his, clutching his strong arm, he was dazzled
by her beloved face looking up to him with
beautiful soft eyes, he turned his face a little to
resist the desire of kissing her again:
"My little goddess, before today, I didn't know
how to exist. Now I want to jump, run, dance,
invent extravagant things. Your eyes on me are
like two stars watching me. Will I ever love you
enough for all this sweetness theyre giving me?
Oh, tell me so."
"Yes, Ric, once, when I was unhappy, very
unhappy, I believed in something great that was
fair, afterwards I thought there was nothing. Now
I know: it was you. All thats been good, and

beautiful for me in the world it's you. And you
must always believe that, and I would so too, I
would like, Ive nothing but ... my life, my friend,
Ric. I love you."
"My love!"
Her admission of love confused him. She opened

her eyes and stared at him, her lips quivered. It
was stupid and irrevocable, she was like Henriette
Pageol, who so many years ago wanted to hide her
monstrous sores, even if it meant that she had to
die. She had hers, it was monstrous, a terrible
injustice and nothing could ever redeem her.
They kissed again, for a long time, gently and they

heard their hearts beat as if those wanted to
escape.
They only returned at seven in the evening. A

telegram from Sonia had been delivered earlier in
the day and announced her arrival in Berlin, she
kissed her little sister, and apologized from taking
her brother away.
Charlotte was very tired, she reclined in the

rocking chair; the windows were wide open, and
it was delightful. Henri only wanted to watch her
tonight. For four, five days, he would not see her.
Sitting in front of her, he was rocking the chair,
stopping it again, he would take her in his arms
and kiss her. Without any resistance from her, he

unbuttoned her sleeves, and rolled them up to her
elbows. Why did Sraphine not make her a short
sleeved dress? He wanted her new dress to have
short sleeves, he said that he was so much in love,
he laughed like a child at her round, matt, smooth
arms which he had just discovered.
He stopped a little surprised that she seemed to

think of something else, since she was showing no
emotion, and he painfully moved to see her overly
pale with a fixed gaze.
"My Charlotte."
She was far, very far behind, at the bottom of a

well. Who could draw her out of it, if not her
friend?
"My Charlotte?!"
She snatched his hands, threw herself on his knees

and put her arms around his neck while kissing
him frantically, calling and shouting, Ric! Ric!
Deeply distressed, he reciprocated her caresses,
while gently trying to free himself. Suddenly, her
body felt limp on his shoulder, she had fainted.
chapter 15
Charlotte woke up in a small brass bed similar to

the one that was in Henri's room; she realized that
she was in Sonia's room. It must have been late, a
tall lamp with a pink silk shade, lit up the room.
The Liberty curtains were moving; the window
was probably ajar. There was a small table with
books in the middle of the room. A large
wardrobe of light wood, with three mirrored
doors, reflected a small group of alabaster dancers
placed in front of the fireplace. There were also a
recliner with cushions, and two lounge
chairs. Charlotte saw her clothes neatly folded on
one of those. She rose, and saw that she was
wearing a large nightgown, its sleeves, trimmed
with lace reached her fingertips. A pink ribbon
tied the collar. A blue band was securing her
plaited hair.
On the side, a door opened and Sraphine entered

and called:
"Ric, she's awake."
She heard him pushing his chair which almost fell

down. Immediately he was by her side:
"Are you feeling better, my darling?"
"Oh yes, I am."
"Sraphine, could you ask Eulalie to bring my tea
in here?"
He sat on the bed and he kissed the girl:

"Charlotte, tonight you expressed such despair
and I hope Ill never see you like that again! It's
true, that I wish all the joys that can come of you
to be mine, and I love you with my heart, with my
mind. Be sure of that, because if you have doubts,
how can you consent to be mine? "
She turned purple, he turned his head and kissed

her hand, then he leaned next to her on the pillow.
"My darling, I don't understand you but I won't

torment you. Sonia was a young girl once, maybe
she'll understand you better. Just tell me what you
want, I would oblige, even if it's crazy, I want to
see you so happy. Would you prefer if I didn't
leave for Berlin?"
When she had fainted, he had called Sraphine,

both had put her to bed, and let her sleep for a
while. Then he had immediately telegraphed to
Sonia and told that Charlotte was ill, and that he
could not leave, instead he was asking his sister to
come at once, if she did not receive any new

message the next morning.
Charlotte said softly:

"Ric, you need you to leave. Sonia would have a
bad opinion of me if I kept you. You see it's
nothing, I'm very tired, crazy, yes, crazy, so
happy, it's too much for me I feel dizzy when I
lean over the balcony. You're laughing, it's not
very high, but I feel that I'm falling ... "
"... Into my arms, my little fairy."
The doorbell rang. It was the doctor whom Henri

had called; he had just returned. He found
Charlotte overworked and diagnosed a transient
weakness that would disappear with some
bedrest. He knew Miss Lethor and advised the
family to wait for her; he said that the young man
could leave without worry. At the urging of
Sraphine, Henry decided that he would do so and
they would send a telegram to Sonia, if Charlotte
was feeling better. In any case, she needed to stay
at here until his return; the old lady was very
happy:
"My child, you made her sick with your calculus

and your science, you'll hear what Sonia says, and
that upon returning youll find the girl well, for
not touching your nasty books. "
She tucked the girl in and she arranged her

pillows. Then it was Eulalie's turn to say good

night, she had brought some sugar, some water,
and a bell. She much preferred Charlotte to Miss
Vera:
"Mr Henri, this tea, are you drinking it, or are you
not drinking it?"
"No, thanks, it's cold."
"It's cold, it's not ..."
"Take it, Eulalie," said Sraphine, "and don't
make any noise."
The two women left. Henri sat back on the bed,

stroking Charlotte's hair; he gave her the little
ring. The housekeeper was calling:
"My child, you must let your fiance rest."

He shouted back:
"Yes, one moment!" and he turned towards
Charlotte:
"See you tomorrow, darling. Get a good rest, be
happy."
She leaned against him:

"My friend - beloved, beloved."
Sraphine called:
"My child, my child come on now!"
Henri stood up; at the door, he paused again and

blew a kiss again for his little soul.
She had asked for the lights not be extinguished.

For some time, she touched the ring on her finger.
Then she got out of bed for a better look under the
lamp. She kissed the two little snake heads, they
seemed to rely on one another with confidence,
like us, Henri had said, our life.
Life! What has life given her since she was born
into this world, without asking for it, same as the
Armandines children? Her family, her school,
the world what had they all ever done for her?
Nothing, less than nothing. Three months before,
she had been wondering about the meaning of her
existence and struggled to cope with her huge
distress. Now she had a fortune, a home, a family
and her misfortune was deeper, yet she was calm,
she no longer resented anybody, she no longer
wished never to have been born, because in her
life there was Henri. She thought, no human
creature had never suffered as much as she, and
yet never known such happiness. There was only
Henri and how much he loved her! Why could not
she be the way she would have liked to be?
Dont think about it!
Tomorrow, she would live a few hours with him.

She needed to be calm, and have loving and happy
memories of her. He would suffer, but she saw
that what she had wanted tonight was sheer
madness. Nothing could change that she had lied

to him, that whatever happiness they gave him
was theft. She would write all this down for Sonia
and Henri would weep without cursing her.
She was standing in front of the mirror. She
looked at her own reflection: She was very pale,
her eyes were sunken and had dark circles. Sonia
probably had stood on this very spot looking at
herself. Charlotte wanted to evoke her image, not
that from the portrait, but the one whom she had
become very kind and slow, always balanced.
Henri would suffer, but he would have Sonia.
This Sonia who had written so tenderly to the
stranger who took away the heart of his brother.
Sonia, everyone said about her: When we see her,
we hope, when we hear her, were healed. Yet
there were sores that even she could not heal:
those we do not admit.
Sonia loved little children. Why was Charlotte not

one of Sonias little children? Those poor children
for whom they had sewed clothes? But would she
have preferred to meet Sonia rather than her
brother? No, not really: to be loved by him was
such sweet joy. One day he would have small
children of his own, Sonia would like that. He
would rock the chair with another creature sitting
in, to which he would say similar words with the
same voice. Would she be like his poor little
Charlotte?
She lifted the curtain, opened the window. Like

the study room, it also overlooked the
Luxembourg gardens. When she leaned, Charlotte
saw those windows. The windows were open and
there was light. Now it was windy. Big black
clouds in the sky, in between them some stars,
Henri had taught her the name of the
constellations, she knew about their color, and
that all of them were worlds that were singing the
glory of eternal life.
Life! How Henri loved life! He did not separate it

from his Science, so maybe he would live only for
this Science. Others had done he had told her the
story, the great Newton. This idea calmed her
down a bit.
A noise startled her. She leaned back. Henri was

on the balcony and he was not moving. Would he
come? She heard him close his shutters. She
remained motionless for a few seconds, with her
hands on her heart beating so fast that she was
almost choking, then she thought that she might
be too tired the tired and needed to get some sleep.
She lied down in the small bed and closed her

eyes.
How many other beings such as Fifi were without

a bed? Who knows, maybe she would become
like Fifine if she had not met Henri? A door
opened, then another. He was coming, she was
sure about that. He stopped at her door, she knew
she would lose herself if he came inside and she
would throw herself to his knees and tell him
everything. Then she heard him walk and sobbed.
The crisis lasted for a while, exhausted, she

finally fell asleep at four o'clock, and woke up six
oclock. She spent an hour washing her poor face
in the en-suite bathroom, and she was unable to
completely erase the traces of her tears.
She opened the window and went out on the

balcony.
It was still windy, and the sky was all grey,

certainly it was going to rain. Charlotte began to
walk slowly. The shutters of the study room were
still closed, but she saw that the living room
windows were wide open. She went there. As she
entered, she screamed silently. Henri, sitting in
Sraphines chair, he looked surprised as he saw
her.
He stood up, kissed her and made her sit in his

seat:
"Why are you up so early, my little soul?"
"But its because youre leaving."
"I'm leaving, indeed, but not now, and only if
youre feeling better, it doesnt seem to be the
case"
He had been sitting her since daybreak. He had

not slept at all.
Usually when he came back from his fiances, he

would sit in his chair, which was not very suitable
for getting any sleep; so he ended up doing
calculations often until the morning. After which,
he slept until very late. Sraphine would let him
do as he pleased, as. she felt that he was too tired.
The previous evening, he was reflecting while

looking at the portrait of his sister. It looked like
this mother that he had never known and whom
he loved, he identifying the one with the other. He
was thinking about how his maternal grandfather
was quite harsh; yet, he had moved heaven and
earth to find her daughter, and he did so for many
years. How come Charlotte's parents were so
uninterested in their daughter? They might have
been depraved, or maybe because they were so
depraved?
At that moment, a horrible idea, like a flash of

lightning had crossed his mind: If Charlotte had
not admitted the true reasons for running away?

Her reticence, her sadness, her fear, her strange
way of giving, her reticence.
Would he have loved Charlotte if he had realized

she was not pure? Probably yes, perhaps
differently. Love depends on how someone feels
the about the object of their devotion a variable
crystallization variable, but once its fixed made
and if the parameters are changed, then the
disappointment can be terrible. Now Charlotte
became false, an infernal comedienne, a scary
monster, and Henri could not forgive himself that
such a thought occurred to him.
Nonetheless, he was left with a feeling of doubt.
He tried not to think about it, and to convince
himself that he was only suffering from anxiety.
Then he went the door of his sisters apartment of
his sister to hear if Charlotte was sleeping, he
wanted to come inside and tell her everything. He
had felt obnoxious. She loved him, he was sure of
that, why should he trouble her, had he not done
too much today? She was exhausted and
overworked, and she had suffered greatly from
her former deprivation, so bravely borne, and the
past was still so close. In these past few months,
Henri had held her whole world in his hands.
Sonia would certainly consent to visit the
countryside. Really, they both needed Sonia to
restore order in their crazy brains.
Charlotte loved him; she spoke so softly in the

park! He tried to think about that and nothing else,
and he was deeply moved. Now that he saw her
looking so tormented, his doubts came back with
the same burning sensation as before. They were
all coordinated, and they were terrible and
relentless, like truth. He almost surrounded to it,
but resisted and he was annoyed. He put his hands
on the shoulders of the girl.
Very tired, quite distraught, she was sitting with

lowered eyelids, red and swollen, her face looked
as pale as wax.
"My sweet darling, have your dark butterflies

flown away? Have you slept with the thought of
Sonia? If we take a little heed to the things around
us, you must feel appeased. During the night, I
came to your door to see if you needed anything,
but I thought you were dreaming of her and
maybe I should not disturb you. How are you
feeling, Charlotte?"
"Very well."
"Is this true? What do I need to do, my little soul?"
She shook his hand:

"But you need to go, yes really, go. Yesterday I
was crazy."
She spoke quickly in a jerky voice, she was

holding back her tears, making a tremendous

effort to keep her eyes fixed on her beloved,
trying to smile; but she saw only through a fog,
otherwise his pallor might have terrified her.
Henri explained that he was going to send a

telegram to Sonia, and he asked Eulalie to prepare
a cup of milk, but in the meantime, Charlotte
needed to return to her room and go back to bed .
"But I want to go with you to the station and be

with you."
"Well, my little soul, well lunch together, and I'll
ask Eulalie to go back with you."
"Eulalie will come with us? We wont be alone?"
"Letting you come back here on your own in that
state? Do you want me to die of worry, my
darling?"
This idea of Eulalie coming between them broke
Charlottes heart. She would not be with Henri on
her own when he left. Perhaps forever. The train
was only at one oclock, but she was thinking not
thinking straight. She had planned to take the
omnibus back to her home, there she would write
to Sonia, put the letter and enclose the ring in a
small box, address it to miss Lethor, personally
so that Sonia before no one opened it, and give it
to the concierge. After what would she do? Die.
The water always terrified her; the memory of
Mathilde Porcher and Notre-Dame towers
haunted her. You were dead before you reached
the ground, you felt nothing, Mother and Mr.

Porcher had often talked about it together.
Dying was excruciating, maybe she would lock

herself in her home, and wait, maybe Henri would
come and look for her.
Charlotte had neither reason nor strength, only

one single fixed idea: to finish, remained as a
small flickering flame in her brain. Now that she
realized that she would not be alone for a minute
until Henri came back, everything died inside her.
"Youre so pale, my darling, youre very ill."
She stood up, threw herself at him and kissed him

while, sobbing. Henri kissed her, then pulled
away and put his hands to her shoulders:
"Charlotte, I beg your pardon, yesterday, we both
behaved inappropriately. Its because youre
hiding something from me, and you make me
suffer horribly oh! Sit down, my little soul, lets
talk about it."
"No, yes, yes, Ric, I lied to you, I am not worthy,
I dont deserve to be loved, I ... I ..."
"You're crazy, Charlotte, tell me you're crazy."
She pulled back, he held her by the wrists. She fell

on her knees, she was struggling, pulling, she
threw herself back, while stammering
incoherently: my father, Mother, and others
things that he could not hear properly. He did not

know himself what he was doing, he only
understood that she wanted to run away with no
explanation, he tried to help her up, to reassure
her, to speak to her, to call her, his voice was
hoarse:
"My darling, my darling."
His foot caught in the chair. He was thrown

forward against the front of the French window.
The unexpected pain was so intense that he let her
go. As soon as he got up, he saw her on the railing
of the balcony, and he uttered a frightful cry:
Charlotte! Other cries echoed on the street.
Her legs were broken when they picked her up.

The doctor asked people to leave them alone,
adding that it wouldnt be long. Charlotte, lying
in Sonias bed, opened her eyes and looked at
Henry. Sitting next to her, he was pale and quiet.
What did he think of her? What did he
understand? He was speaking to her, promising
her that Sonia was coming soon, and that the
cure would always love whatever may be the truth
that she would tell him it would vanish at the sight
of her tenderness like a phantom of the night.
When someone came, he asked: Sonia? and
realizing that it was not her, he looked as
Charlotte saying "My darling, she's coming."
People came asking questions and they did not get
any answer. Sraphine and Eulalie were in tears
and begged them to wait. Henri only left

Charlottes side to get her a drink. She was
terribly thirsty. He kissed her lips and said:
"My darling, dont go away, dont worry, I love

you, youre my life."
Then she seemed happy and tried to smile her

although she suffered horribly. A continual
buzzing filled her ears; it sounded like ringing
bells pealing, but it was only the Mmaines song
and Henri who spoke about living endless days in
Clary.
She and died about five oclock in the afternoon,

and Henri stayed by her bedside for the entire
evening and the night, until Sonias arrival:
"Sonia, I want to know, I want to understand why

she died."
...................
...................
...................
Sonia had sought answers without knowing where
her enquiries would lead and only to occupy the
mind of her poor child. Thanks to Armandines
kindness, she had met Martha, and Martha had
replied:
"No, ma'am, Charlotte has never had another

lover apart your brother, he knows something, I

guess. She didnt have much luck with him the
poor little mite. If youre asking me to speak
otherwise, forget about it!"
"No, Miss, we seek the truth, because we dont
know anything, and we need it because we do not
believe in evil for the sake of evil. If we were to
learn that the misfortune of the one I already
called my sister was larger than we presumed, our
memory of her will still be dear, but our pain
would be increased. Thank you for your frank
honesty. My brother is downstairs. I'll get him.
Could you tell him what youve just told me?
Here still very poorly, In the name of who you
love I beg you: have mercy on him. "
Sonia was not mistaken. Martha was good and she

was very kind, but she did not know anything, and
understood nothing. Armandine also said that
Charlotte has never had any other male friend
except for Mr Henri, who had been very nice:
"Yes, ma'am, you can count on what I say,

Charlotte wasnt a lying little girl, but she had her
pride. Your brother was too good, too learned, I
could tell, when he explained things to my boy.
She never felt worthy of him. Come on, therere
many things in this world which we cant explain.
Why did my Lili suffer from heart trouble, when
nobody in my family was? Dont look: you wont
find youre together with your brother, stay

together."
"Ric, you know this young woman, Lucie, used to
know Charlotte when she was a child. I found her
thanks to Armandine. We need to look at your
poor Charlottes family. I realised that when I saw
the mother."
"Who hounded us, insulted us, Sonia, who wanted
to get us arrested despite your letters, mine and all
the evidence. Oh I pity those people who dont
know how to love, suffer nothing, and who are so
full of hate."
"The poor woman, she would like to think of us

as murderers, but I saw that she was upset when I
told her that Charlotte didnt want to marry you.
She became pale and she forbid us to talk to the
father."
"Yes, Charlotte feared her father: he drank. Watch
out for him, my dear poor Sonia. Ask him why
they abandoned her, left her all alone, alone, a
little soul Maybe she had a lover...? Did her
mother not tell you say that?"
"No dear, you know that I dont believe that, its

possible because Charlotte never lived elsewhere
except rue Flocon. The concierge recognized you
and said that she had never seen anyone else. "
"That night when she was ill, I had thought about
that but when I saw her, with her eyes that never
left me as if I were their last light, then I realized
that she loved me. I thought maybe before me she

had another relationship, and had a bad
experience so she was afraid to commit again.
And when I loved her, she didnt dare to confide
in me. Do you think the same?"
"Calm down my dear boy, something like this is
possible, but ..."
"If you had loved me less if I had been like the
others, she would still be alive, and I would suffer
less at the thought that another ..."
"Calm down. She would have become like
Martha and you like .... this fool who lost her
without realizing. You dont want that."
"I'm very calm."
"Listen to me, my boy, if I had not been in love it,

I would have suffered less, but would I
understand how you feel now and cry with you? I
dont regret anything Here's the truth and I'm sure
youll see that she died for nothing. There are lies,
hypocrisy, false modesty, our conventions, our
prejudices. They are deaf, blind, stupid and
dangerous and we wont demolish them in one
day.
"Sonia, you know!"
"Yes maybe, calm down, I didnt want to say it
too fast, calm down I saw her father .... Listen to
me, you will remember that beautiful face that
your sweet Charlotte had when she was dying and
when you kissed her and you could see that she
was happy. she loved you, she loved you, dont
doubt, my boy, and she was happy. You need to

know only Truth can give us affordable joys; no
matter how long they last, eternity holds within
the fleeting moments. You believed in her, you
went to her with a light heart, you were surprised
that so many unfortunate souls turned her away.
You were young, my boy, you will never turn
away, you wont lose anything from your soul.
Believe me, like Truth, your Charlotte was
simple, naive and pure. She was distraught
because she didnt want you to doubt her, and she
left this world thinking of you. You were the only
one, the delight of her poor life. You will work,
Ric, you'll always be good. you owe it to her.
From the pain that you feel, youll find the desire
to find the right path."
The End

Petite Lotte (Traduction en Anglais Du Roman de Simone Bodève)

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Simone Bodve

A 19C Parisian flower-maker

Petite Lotte by Simone Bodve

All rights reserved. This book or any portion

La Petite Lotte by Simone Bodve

Originally published in 1907 by Bonvallot-

Translated into English by Dominique

Simone Bodve (Paris 1876-1921)

Charles Bugeot and Lise Valbour married for love.

The innocent grace of her sixteen years had beguiled

The Valbour family lived in a modest flat, in Avenue

du Maine, behind the Montparnasse train station.

Charles was disappointed in the way they received

The old folks were pondering. They felt quite

intimidated by this tall, well-dressed man, articulate

And the mother said as she was escorting

They waited five years. A long time. Charles only

In March 1880 they were married at the Saint

From the beginning, their business performed

"We are far too happy - what is going to happen to

Charles had dreamed of a nice, cosy flat, of a clean

In the evening the same thing happened. After

"Go - go to sleep. I need to get ready."

He went into the bedroom, lay down sullenly in the

At first, he did not blame her. Indeed, he was

Lise did not like vaudeville. Indeed, it cost a lot of

Before he met Lise, Charles had loved many women.

In the cramped Valbour flat, boys and girls slept in

who was fourteen at the time, one evening. So, Lise

Nevertheless, Lise thought that she loved Charles

He objected. She did not understand why. She did

Gradually Charles habits became worse, he always

" Look at this! Just like you! " he said.

Lise wept over this injustice. Her mother said:

Then Charles came home drunk. In the morning he

On due dates, Charles collected the payments. Soon

all the money. Back home, the suppliers needed to

Lise thought how easily she might not have met

One night - now married for fifteen months- Charles,

The little girl was fostered in a village in the Morvan

This happened at the end of the winter season. Many

Lise took an evening train, she arrived at night; half

The parents decided to entrust the little girl to her

'Petite Lotte', as she was called, became in the course

Nobody paid much attention to Lotte. They just

Therefore, all day long, the little girl huddled

Lotte reflected and wondered. She remembered an

There was also grandfather, and grandmother was

Oh yes, grandfather! Lotte always needed to pass

One day - it was before the time when grandmother

Not without bitterness, Lotte also thought about her

hummed it, when he came home late in the evening

" He's the sweetheart of A -A,

" Stop it - you 're killing me with your Amanda! " .

And mother threw Martha on the floor. When Lotte

"Silly girl, why are you crying? Is there

Mother was like that. She was very strange.

And then, there was Father.

Father was not at home very often. This was

Father and Mother argued very loudly, and smashed

Lucie Parent, the young apprentice, was Lotte's

No one was allowed to enter the kitchen. Outside the

He sat in front of the child, half closed his eyelids,