Memoirs of a Courtesan in Nineteenth-Century Paris (5 page)

The two women who were at the table with the men said to the one who was near G

, ‘‘Hey! Louise, do you want some punch?’’

‘‘No,’ the one by that name replied, ‘ that mess of yours is only good for children. I prefer pure brandy.’

She finished drinking the glass that had been the cause of my disgrace. Then, addressing G

, she resumed the interrupted conversation. ‘ So you say that this kid is yours? You should have left her at home because the rules are very strict.’

G

slowly emptied his glass, and, most probably having thought of what to say, began thus: ‘ I got married eight years ago and I loved my wife. She deceived me, so we separated, but the laws are unfair; they give the daughters to the mother. My wife is living here in Lyon with her lover. I came from Paris to take my child away from her, and I intend to leave tomorrow. But I was afraid that they would look for me tonight and I figured I would not be found here. Therefore you must keep us here tonight.’

I sighed deeply. I did not dare say anything to the woman who held me in her arms, but I looked at her. She squeezed me gently and motioned for me to keep quiet.

!

‘ Oh,’ continued G

, ‘‘if she could run away, she would, so I have to keep an eye on her.’

‘As you wish,’ replied Louise, ‘ but I do not want her near me.’

Then my protector spoke up in a casual tone, ‘‘I shall keep her, if you

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My Stepfather

want. It is late now and it is almost certain that I shall be alone. I shall take good care of her. I know something about children.’

This proposal seemed to please Louise.

‘‘Is that all right with you?’’ she asked G

.

‘‘Yes, just so long as she does not let her go out.’

‘ Do not worry. She has a daughter she takes good care of ! Come on, little girl,’ she said, turning toward me, ‘‘you are going to stay with Marguerite and your father will come get you in the morning.’

Marguerite took me to a room nearby and said to me, ‘‘Now, talk, but softly, because your father is next door and there is only a wall separating us.’

I told her that I had just been kidnapped. I begged her to go tell my mother. She put me in her bed, turned the key twice to lock the door, and left.

After her departure I fell asleep. I did not hear Marguerite come back.

She was sleeping near me when I woke up. Everything came back to me, and I asked her news of my mother.

‘‘I saw her,’ she said to me. ‘‘I told her where you are. She is going to come over pretending that someone on the outside alerted her, because this man could beat me if he knew that I was the one who had gone to inform her.’

We heard loud voices coming from the room below. I let out a scream.

I had just recognized my mother’s voice.

I ran toward the door. Marguerite held me back and, knocking on the wall, said, ‘‘Do you hear the commotion downstairs? It is a woman asking about her child. This might concern you. Come get your daughter.’

At first there was no answer from the room next door. Marguerite pushed me toward the stairs, waited a few seconds to give me some time, and exclaimed in a loud voice so she could be heard by everyone,

‘ Oh, no! While I was talking, the little girl ran off.’ The poor woman was trying to reconcile the successful outcome of my escape and her fear of G

’s anger.

I had not reached the bottom of the stairs when I heard a door open and G

coming after me. But before he could reach me, I was at my mother’s side and in her arms.

G

rushed toward us, but using their bodies, the women formed a wall of defense around us. In a matter of a few words, my mother had explained her position to them. Just the sight of her had dispelled the effects of G

’s lies.



My Stepfather

‘‘I am going to kill them both!’’ he yelled.

‘ So I was right to send for the guards?’’ said Marguerite, who had come in last.

Those words had their effect. G

stopped, fists clenched, mouth

foaming. Marguerite took advantage of this moment of hesitation and led us out through the courtyard.



2

o TheHunterandtheHunted

At the Mathieus’—Flight Once More—Attempt to Escape from the Enemy

‘ ,’  . , ‘ now we need to find you a safe hideout. You would be too exposed here. I am going to send you to one of my friends, a wholesaler. I shall get word to him, and you will leave tonight. In the meantime, go up to my wife’s room and we shall fetch your belongings.’

We had barely started up the stairs when G

showed up. We saw

him pacing back and forth in front of the shop.

Tired of not seeing anything, he entered and asked for the address of a woman who, according to what he had been told, worked in this house.

M. Pomerais was on his guard. ‘‘What is this person’s name?’’

‘ Sir, I am looking for my wife. After ruining me and deceiving me, she stole my daughter. I would abandon this miserable woman if I had my child. I cannot tell you under what name she came to live in Lyon because she conceals the one I gave her to dodge the law and my pursuit.’

M. Pomerais answered calmly, ‘All that does not amount to a name.

I have fifty women working for me, and as long as they are punctual, I do not ask for details about their private lives.’

G

was very disappointed, especially since M. Pomerais was about to turn heel. ‘ Oh! Sir, how unfortunate I am! You must have been warned about me. I am sure that she deceived you too.’

‘‘You are mistaken. I have not been warned about you. I do not have the honor of knowing you.’

‘‘I told you my name is G

, and I want to find my wife. In case she changed her name, this is what she looks like: she is five feet tall, has a nice figure, an oval face, a high forehead, and fine shiny dark hair.

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The Hunter and the Hunted

She has nicely arched dark eyebrows, bluish-gray eyes that have a harsh expression, an aquiline but broad nose, a large mouth, thin lips, and wonderful teeth. Her daughter, I mean my daughter, is seven. She is a precocious child. She will be strong-willed like her mother.’ Then, afraid of letting his hatred for me show, he added, ‘ She is ill-mannered!

All that will change!’’

M. Pomerais bit his lips to avoid replying with all the disdain this act inspired in him. ‘‘It is true, I know the person you just described. She is a hardworking woman who seemed quite honest to us. She told us yesterday that she was leaving Lyon for a few days.’

So saying, M. Pomerais took leave of G

and turned his back

on him.

G

remained stunned for a few moments, and then, realizing that he would get nothing from this man, became furious and left.

  ’

At ten o’clock that night, an apprentice came to tell us that G

was

no longer at the shop entrance near which he had been prowling all day.

At half past midnight we left accompanied by M. Pomerais, two workmen, and the concierge. We were going to the Guillotière.1

When we got there it was past one in the morning. We were expected. The person who let us in was a healthy-looking man approximately forty years old, short and fat, with a nice complexion. His frizzy, grayish-brown hair framed his face. He was bundled up in a large frock coat.

‘ You are quite late, my children, I was about to go to bed.’

‘‘Excuse us, dear Mathieu,’ said M. Pomerais, ‘ but this poor woman did not want to go out earlier for fear that she would be followed. She cannot leave your house for some time.’

‘‘Do not worry,’ replied M. Mathieu. ‘‘We shall be vigilant, and my son will keep the little one from becoming bored.’

‘‘Well, take heart, dear Jeanne,’ said M. Pomerais to my mother. ‘‘You are with good people.’

The door closed behind him. We went across the courtyard. M. Mathieu led us up two flights of stairs.

‘ Here is your room,’ he told us.

My mother thanked him profusely.

When I woke up the next morning my mother was up and walking softly so as not to make any noise. She was combing her hair. I have never seen anyone with hair that beautiful. Our room was nice and

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The Hunter and the Hunted

clean. The sun shone through flowers clinging to a window that looked out on the courtyard. I felt quite cheerful.

‘ Oh, what a lovely garden, Maman. I am the one who will take care of it.’

My mother kissed me.

‘ Someone is going to come for us. Come here and let me dress you.’

At that moment someone knocked softly on the door. We looked at each other without moving.

‘‘Yes,’ replied my mother.

The door opened, and a woman of about thirty looked in.

‘‘I hope I am not disturbing you,’ she said, ‘ but I go to the workroom early. Do you want to have breakfast downstairs or in your room?’’

Maman told her that of course she was ready to follow her and she did not know how to express her gratitude.

‘ Oh!’’ said Mme Mathieu. ‘‘If I can be frank with you, I am coming to get you not so much to take you to the workroom but rather to please my son.’

We went down to the dining room where I found a boy my age, cute as a button. His brown and naturally curly hair was shoulder length. He seemed to look down on me, which embarrassed me greatly, but during lunch he was sweet.

  

I was so happy that a month felt like a day.

One morning a shaken M. Mathieu came into the workroom. He was holding a letter in his hand.

‘‘I am summoned before the police chief to face M. G

.’

My mother looked at the letter and turned pale.

‘‘My God!’’ she said breaking into tears. ‘‘Is there no way I can avoid bringing torment to those who come to my aid? I do not want to be the cause of unpleasantness in this household. We shall leave tonight.’

‘ Oh,’ said M. Mathieu, ‘‘you are getting carried away! Nothing can happen to us because we welcomed you into our home. Your work is enough to pay for what we are giving you. I shall go see the police chief, and if you must leave us, we shall find you another hideout. As for Céleste, she is not his daughter, she is yours. So we shall keep her. My boy likes her so much he could become ill if she went away. And so, I am on my way to find you a little room.’

I had heard this whole conversation and my heart was divided between two sorrows, the choice between which seemed inevitable. Either



The Hunter and the Hunted

I would have to leave the house of young Mathieu or be separated from my mother. I went down to the office where my friend was studying, and I told him everything. He began to stamp his feet and scream at the top of his voice, ‘‘I do not want you to go. If you leave, I shall stop learning how to read!’’

M. Mathieu returned at four o’clock and told us he had found a room in the house of one of his friends, M. Raoul, a canut.2

The next day my mother got up very early.

‘ Take me right away to your friend’s house,’ she told M. Mathieu.

‘‘I am leaving you my daughter. Bring her to me as soon as possible, because I would not have the strength to go on without her near me.’

M. Mathieu took her to his friend’s house and I impatiently waited for his return. When I saw him come in, I ran toward him. He took me in his arms and, going toward the window, he lifted a corner of the curtain and asked me, ‘ Céleste, is that man over there not your stepfather?’’

I was so agitated that I could not answer right away. I was looking without seeing.

‘‘Where is Maman? Has he seen Maman?’’

‘‘No, thank goodness he has not seen her, but her premonition was right. I am glad she asked me to take her away this morning because I had intended to wait until tonight. The doorman told me when I returned that a man had come asking all sorts of questions. He pointed him out to me. Look, he is the one who is still in front of the house.’

I looked and I recognized G

. My mother was in a secure place,

so for now we did not have to worry about his presence; however, I did not sleep well. I thought I could see G

emerging from each piece

of furniture, from every corner of the room.

M. Mathieu left at ten o’clock to go see the police chief. G

was

already in his office. Walking in front of him without looking at him, M. Mathieu addressed the chief: ‘‘Would you please tell me, sir, what is requested of me? I am a merchant and I have sixty persons in my employ, men and women.’

‘‘I understand. This is the complaint brought against you: M. G

,

here before you, accuses you of hiding his wife and his daughter in your house. Supposedly his wife has a bad reputation, so she is not the one he misses, but he wants his daughter back. What do you have to say?’’

M. Mathieu looked G

up and down, then turning toward the police chief said, ‘‘I give you my word as an honest man that this gentleman is a scoundrel who beats this poor woman and this poor child. He is profligate and lazy, and the only reason he wants to find his wife is

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The Hunter and the Hunted

so he can take from her what she has earned since she left him. Yesterday, when she learned that you had written to me and guessing that it concerned her, she ran away leaving me her daughter’s birth certifi-cate. Here it is. You can see that he is deceiving you and that this child is not his. His wife, on the other hand, is respectful and thrifty, and Mme Mathieu says that she does not know of a more gifted worker.’

‘‘Well, sir,’ said the chief looking at G

, ‘‘what do you answer to

that?’’

G

was not disconcerted. ‘‘My answer is that this man is my wife’s lover; that is why he speaks so well of her.’

The police chief frowned. ‘‘Be careful; when such accusations are made, they must be proven.’ Then turning toward M. Mathieu, he said,

‘ So you say this woman is no longer at your house. What about her child? Did she take her with her?’’

M. Mathieu hesitated, but he did not know how to lie.