Memoirs of a Courtesan in Nineteenth-Century Paris (27 page)

I pointed out to my new acquaintance that she was in very wretched company.

‘‘I know,’ she told me, ‘ but my husband can come back at any moment, and I do not know where to go.’

She was right. . . . A few days later her husband came to get her and beat her senseless. She came to tell me about her woes.

‘‘Have you no friends?’’

‘‘No,’ she told me in tears, ‘‘I am quite miserable. I have been leading this life now for six years. If I could go back to my parents’, I would leave right now.’

I asked her if she had written to them.

‘ No, I have not dared.’

I entreated her to do it so she could leave once and for all.

This woman had had her day in the sun. Then she could be seen every evening in a shop, on the corner near the Opéra-Comique. A passerby could think that she was happy. She was covered with jewelry, lace, and silk. That is what leads so many poor heads astray.

One morning she came to tell me that she had found a way to make

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Lise’s Return

a little money so she could return to her village where her brother was waiting for her. She wanted to organize a ball at the Frères-Provençaux and charge twenty francs a ticket.1

I mentioned the idea to Deligny who sold a few of them to his friends, Médème and others.

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One day a servant with stripes on every seam of his uniform looked in at my door.

‘ Is this where Mlle Céleste lives?’’

‘‘Yes.’’

He went out and motioned to a carriage, which pulled up in front of our house. It was a pretty surrey with two horses. An extremely elegant lady gently got out leaning against the servant. She motioned to the footman to wait for her outside, lifted her veil with one hand, and extended the other to me.

‘‘Lise!’’ I said drawing back, she was so pale.

‘ So, you think I have changed? . . .’

‘ Yes,’ I said, somewhat recovered. ‘ I am surprised to see you; you are so beautiful!’’

‘ Oh! If that is the case, good! You see, everyone thinks I am ill.’

I invited her to sit next to me. She could barely stand up.

‘ I have just arrived from Nice. I had caught a cold. . . . Ernest is so good that he took that very seriously, he loves me so much!’’

‘‘Ernest, that old wrinkled-up count?’’

‘‘Yes, I know you do not like him. For an excuse to visit me, his doctor convinced him that I was sick. Ernest would not let me go out, and I was bored. That is what he mistook for illness.’ She coughed and continued,

‘‘Ernest ordered a traveling coach and took me with him, passing me off as his wife. He forbade me to see you, but he is away for a few days.’

When she walked in she was pale, but as she spoke, her color came back and her eyes shone. Yet, there was something different about her.

‘ Oh,’ she said laughing, ‘‘I had all my upper teeth pulled, and these are the pretty ones that replace them!’’

I winced thinking about what she must have suffered.

She told me, ‘‘I have adopted a little girl from the foundling home.’

‘ What!’’ I said. ‘ I thought one had to have proof of a certain position.’

‘ That is why she was not given to me but to Ernest, who committed himself to provide an income for her, even if he were to send her back to the orphanage.’

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Lise’s Return

At that moment the Beautiful Baker came in to publicize her dance tickets.

Lise bought two, jingling gold coins in a pretty little net purse. She was wearing diamonds on her ears and fingers.

I asked her what she intended to do with her tickets since I did not think she would go.

‘‘What am I going to do with them? Well, go with Eulalie, and you, if you want to come also.’

‘ So Eulalie is still at your house?’’

‘‘Yes, I have taken her everywhere.’

‘And Camille?’’

‘‘He is still the same. Farewell. I shall come pick you up Saturday.’

That Saturday I was told that a lady was waiting for me downstairs and that she could not come up. When we arrived at the Frères-Provençaux, everyone let out a general Oh! . . . Under the lights she looked ashen. She was leaning against me to keep from falling. I made her sit down.

‘ You see, it has been a long time since people have seen me; they are surprised.’

Afraid is more like it. People would walk by whispering. She was wearing a pink domino, trimmed in broderie Anglaise, and a black hat with roses.

‘ Can you hear what they are saying?’’

‘ No,’ I replied. ‘ Probably they are saying how stylish you look.’

‘ Come, now,’ she said, ‘ tell me that I am nothing more than a shadow of myself.’

‘Are you mad, my poor dear Lise?’’

‘ I am so afraid of dying.’

And as she watched the dancers twirling, her eyes brightened. She was following them with her soul. She seemed to be inhaling the lives of others.

‘‘I want to waltz.’

I did not dare prevent her and asked Médème to invite her to dance.

I recommended that he hold her tight.

‘ Oh! I cannot do it,’ she said leaning against the wall.

After a dry cough, blood began to flow from her mouth.

‘‘How could you have allowed her to go out?’’ Deligny said to me.

‘ She is finished!’

‘ She is fainting,’ said Médème.

He picked her up in his arms and took her downstairs. No one noticed

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Lise’s Return

except Lagie who said when she saw her go by, ‘ There goes Pomaré putting on airs.’

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I took her home. She had a fever. She would not let us take her clothes off. She wanted to return to the ball, to dance.

We had to turn on all the lights. I stayed with her most of the night.

Finally fatigue took over and she fell asleep.

The next day I went to see her. She was up, paler than the day before.

‘ Oh! There you are,’ she said, her lips tight. ‘ So they think I am dead?

What treason!’’

I thought she was mad.

‘Are you not outraged?’’ she told me angrily.

‘‘You have not told me what is wrong with you.’

‘‘Well! Eulalie is Camille’s mistress. They were both deceiving me. In a few days he will be an adult. She ran off with him. She is pregnant and wants to marry him, but I know his uncle, his guardian. I shall write to him; I shall go there if I have to.’

She burst into tears. I tried to comfort her.

‘‘Now, am I not your friend? I shall not abandon you. . . . Your lover, this count, has he not amply proven his affection? Those ingrates, forget them.’

‘‘Forget! Yes, you are right. For one thing, I am seeing my mother again. She visits me on the sly. I give her things for my brothers and sisters. Eulalie was her favorite! She is going to defend her. I cannot talk to her about this. I wish Ernest would come back. I am expecting his doctor today. I shall not tell him that I went out yesterday.’

We went into her bedroom. This room was decorated in yellow, like the one on Rue Saint-Georges, but better furnished. There were two windows in the front with white and yellow curtains. Between the two windows stood a light wooden stand holding a plaster Virgin Mary covered with a lace veil. Through it, one could see pearls and flowers.

‘ The doctor!’ announced the chambermaid.

‘‘I shall leave you.’

When I returned, her mother was there. She would not let me in. I came back a few days later. She tried to send me away, but I insisted and went in.

Lise, who did not leave her bed anymore, scolded me for staying away so long. Her mother was looking at me; I did not dare say that I had been sent away.

‘‘I wish Ernest would return,’ she told me dejectedly.

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Lise’s Return

I made her repeat, because this Ernest she was still waiting for I had seen the night before.

‘‘Being sick is so expensive! I already have a lot of debts. It looks like everyone is afraid I am going to die; they are all bringing me their bills.’

I took leave of her. Her mother led me into the dining room and said to me, ‘‘You probably know that this M. Ernest is in Paris? Word has been sent to him several times, but he never replies. The doctor he had been sending does not come anymore. Day before yesterday, they came from the Mère de Famille shop to repossess some items. I asked for some time. It is a matter of three hundred francs for a pink domino.

They will be back in a few days.’

‘ This must be avoided. I shall go there.’

I went to the shop to say I was taking responsibility for the debt. I returned to see Lise a few days later.

‘‘You who love her, scold her,’ said her mother. ‘ She spent the whole night writing.’

‘ Yes,’ said Lise with a strange smile. ‘ Yes, that made me feel good.’

Her cheeks were hollow, her lips red. I could hear her breathing was hoarse. I wanted to cry. Her eyes never left me. I figured out that she had something to tell me, but we were never alone; her mother never left the room when I was there.

She picked up a little blue enameled watch from the night stand and handed it to her mother telling her, ‘‘Here, send this over there, it is my last piece of jewelry. How I wish Ernest would come back! Not a single letter from him!’’

Her mother left. She pulled me closer to her bed and said, ‘‘I wrote Camille’s uncle. He wanted the boy to marry his daughter, so he will prevent this wedding. I am avenged. You will tell her, tell Eulalie, if you run into her, that it was I. . . .’

Someone was coming. She put her finger to her lips. Her mother entered.

I told her how unhappy I was that I did not have any money to give her so she could avoid these transactions at the pawnshop.

A few days later her living room, dining room, and boudoir furniture were repossessed. I was able to keep everyone out of her bedroom.

What had been taken was ample enough to cover the five hundred francs requested.

She asked who was walking next door. I replied that people were looking at her apartment. Every day she was saying that she wanted to move; she was not surprised.

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Lise’s Return

‘‘Yes, I am going to leave this place, and I shall go live in the country.’

Then her eyes would fill with tears and she would continue, ‘‘Yes, in the country, at the Montmartre Cemetery.’

When she would tell me about her hopes, I was sadder than when she would talk about her approaching end. I advised her to write to a few friends. No one came.

M. Ernest had stopped taking care of her. No efforts could change his mind. He sent a reply that he did not want to make new sacrifices for a woman who had only a month left to live.

Each time I left this poor girl, I would tell myself, ‘‘Let us hope she dies before they come for her bed!’’

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She had asked me to get her some good wine, some grapes, asparagus, and those were not in season. Even though I had very little money, I bought what she wanted.

I arrived with my arms full. Eulalie was the one who opened the door for me. I almost dropped everything on the floor! She took me into the dining room to tell me, ‘‘Do you know what she did to me? Yesterday, Camille’s uncle had him come over, presumably to talk business, and he whisked him away in his carriage, almost by force. She is the cause of all this. This morning I received a letter at the hotel. Camille is bidding me farewell. He declares that he will send me some money and he repeats that he wanted to marry me. I want her to wake up, and I shall tell her what is on my mind.’

I begged her not to do anything of the kind, but to be considerate of her sister’s last moments.

‘‘What do I care? I wish she had died a month earlier.’

Her mother, who seemed to have a marked preference for Eulalie, appeared to have taken her side.

Lise rang.

Her sister opened the door, leaned against the door frame and, with her arms crossed, said, ‘‘Well, it is I. Are you surprised?’’

I saw Lise, barely awake, rise on her elbows, smile, and fall back down, saying, ‘‘Finally! . . .’

Eulalie came closer.

‘‘You are pleased with your work, you devil’s daughter. Instead of repenting, you are evil to the last moment. Look at yourself. You are half dead, so you will not be able to enjoy your triumph for very long. I have been abandoned and so have you. Your Ernest, he is in town and

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Lise’s Return

he does not want to see you. You thought you were loved by everyone!

Where are all your lovers?’’

Lise closed her eyes without replying. I saw tears slip out from under her eyelids. Her mother was tugging on Eulalie and motioning for her to be quiet. She was probably going to continue.

‘ Oh! If you are the mother of both of them,’ I yelled, ‘ take her away!

And you, Eulalie, leave!’’

I pushed her into the next room and locked the door.

Lise pressed my hand and said, ‘‘If only you could stay near me! Of course she is right, why would he come back?’’

She showed me her emaciated arms and hands.

‘ The life I have led, it is a business. I was bought for a kiss. I have nothing left to sell, so no one comes anymore. The honest woman is taken care of by her companion from her younger days until the end.

For us, nothing but mockery and insults during and after. Hand me the rosary that is at the feet of the Virgin Mary. Remove the veil covering her and put her near me, on this table. Send me a priest or ask my mother to.’

She rested her head on the corner of the nightstand. The glow from the night light and the reflection on the white Virgin Mary lit up her face. I asked her mother to go get a confessor.

The next day, I went back to see Lise. I had dreamed about her all night. I saw her dressed up for a ball. Her flowers were black.

When I went in, I questioned her concierge with my eyes. He nodded in a way that meant, ‘‘It is not over, but it will not be long.’

I went up the three flights of stairs breathless. I was going to ring, when I heard laughter and talk. I knocked. Her sister opened, a napkin in her hand. I entered the dining room. I saw oysters and white wine.

They were having a cheerful lunch.