Whatever it was that held him back before, it no longer
exists.’
Minette nodded. ‘It was Eugénie’s disgust that
“held him back” as you put it. But do not fear for me. He has told me that he
will not come to me until I— I—signify that I
am—willing.’
‘Are you trying to tell me that you are not? Fool,
you are in love with him.’
‘Am I? I am sure you are right, Grandmère. You
always are.’
The Marquise pursed her lips. ‘Tell him.’
‘What?’
‘Tell him that you are willing.’
‘But—but—I—we are not—married.’
‘He does not know that. Do you not see how this
will serve your sister’s turn? A man of his experience would know instantly
that she is no virgin. Especially after she has had a child. But you—’
Minette was staring at her in utter dismay. ‘You
tell me to do this? To make things easier for Eugénie?’
‘Why not?’
‘Do you not even consider the pain I shall suffer?
To lie in the arms of the man I love and then relinquish him to my sister as
though it had meant nothing?’ She clasped her hands together in a passionate
gesture. ‘I tell you, I love him. For me, it would not be the duty it would be
to Eugénie. I—I—want him!’
The Marquise studied her granddaughter’s face, and
her mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘So, you have found your metier at last. I
should have known you were born to be a putaine .’
‘Grandmère! I am here at your command. I follow your orders in this as in every
other way. Why do you hate me? Why is it always Eugénie with you? Why do you not
care for me?’
The Marquise shrugged her thin shoulders
expressively. ‘Eugénie, c’est moi. You, you are my
sister over again. A weak fool without pride or discretion.’
‘I do not understand you. You have no sister.’
‘Listen, child. In every second generation of our
family, there have been born twin girls. I was a twin.’ Her gnarled hand
clutched the ivory handle of her walking stick until the knuckles were white. ‘My twin, Antoinette! I loved her more than life. When we had
to leave France, I begged her to come with me, but she would not. Her husband,
the great Viscomte de Montreuil, Le Défenseur
des Canaille , was already in the Concierge prison, and she on her knees pleading
for his life from their erstwhile friends, Robespierre, Danton, Marat.’ She
spat out the names as though they polluted her mouth. ‘Much
good it did her! Within six months, she was with him in the Concierge,
and she went to the guillotine with her hand in his. I am told she looked like
a bride.’ The old eyes were bright but not with tears. ‘My husband was
butchered the same day, but I did not weep for him.’
‘But if I am like her, should you not love me too?’
‘You are a reminder, every day, a reminder, that
she loved him more. Like you, she found her metier in what she called love. It
was not love but lust! Once she had tasted that, nothing, no one else mattered
to her.’
‘You mean she loved her husband.’
‘I mean she loved the way he used her body.
Sickening! Sinful! Perverse! Nothing more.’
‘She told you this?’
‘Told me? She had no need to tell me. The
Viscomte’s talents were famed throughout the bedchambers of Versailles.’
Enlightenment suddenly dawned upon Minette. ‘And in yours?’
The Marquise laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
‘Not such a fool as I thought. Yes, I sampled his wares. The more fool me.’
‘And you hate me because I remind you that you
betrayed your sister. That is the truth, is it not?’
‘You become tedious,’ announced the Marquise. But
her voice trembled a little. ‘I shall sleep now until dinner.’
The habits of a lifetime could not be overborne by
one instant of repugnance. Minette assisted her grandmother to take off her
outer garments, settled her, wrapped in her dressing gown, on the chaise
longue, bathed her temples with vinegar, and left her to sleep — all without
the reward of one smile or one word of
exists.’
Minette nodded. ‘It was Eugénie’s disgust that
“held him back” as you put it. But do not fear for me. He has told me that he
will not come to me until I— I—signify that I
am—willing.’
‘Are you trying to tell me that you are not? Fool,
you are in love with him.’
‘Am I? I am sure you are right, Grandmère. You
always are.’
The Marquise pursed her lips. ‘Tell him.’
‘What?’
‘Tell him that you are willing.’
‘But—but—I—we are not—married.’
‘He does not know that. Do you not see how this
will serve your sister’s turn? A man of his experience would know instantly
that she is no virgin. Especially after she has had a child. But you—’
Minette was staring at her in utter dismay. ‘You
tell me to do this? To make things easier for Eugénie?’
‘Why not?’
‘Do you not even consider the pain I shall suffer?
To lie in the arms of the man I love and then relinquish him to my sister as
though it had meant nothing?’ She clasped her hands together in a passionate
gesture. ‘I tell you, I love him. For me, it would not be the duty it would be
to Eugénie. I—I—want him!’
The Marquise studied her granddaughter’s face, and
her mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘So, you have found your metier at last. I
should have known you were born to be a putaine .’
‘Grandmère! I am here at your command. I follow your orders in this as in every
other way. Why do you hate me? Why is it always Eugénie with you? Why do you not
care for me?’
The Marquise shrugged her thin shoulders
expressively. ‘Eugénie, c’est moi. You, you are my
sister over again. A weak fool without pride or discretion.’
‘I do not understand you. You have no sister.’
‘Listen, child. In every second generation of our
family, there have been born twin girls. I was a twin.’ Her gnarled hand
clutched the ivory handle of her walking stick until the knuckles were white. ‘My twin, Antoinette! I loved her more than life. When we had
to leave France, I begged her to come with me, but she would not. Her husband,
the great Viscomte de Montreuil, Le Défenseur
des Canaille , was already in the Concierge prison, and she on her knees pleading
for his life from their erstwhile friends, Robespierre, Danton, Marat.’ She
spat out the names as though they polluted her mouth. ‘Much
good it did her! Within six months, she was with him in the Concierge,
and she went to the guillotine with her hand in his. I am told she looked like
a bride.’ The old eyes were bright but not with tears. ‘My husband was
butchered the same day, but I did not weep for him.’
‘But if I am like her, should you not love me too?’
‘You are a reminder, every day, a reminder, that
she loved him more. Like you, she found her metier in what she called love. It
was not love but lust! Once she had tasted that, nothing, no one else mattered
to her.’
‘You mean she loved her husband.’
‘I mean she loved the way he used her body.
Sickening! Sinful! Perverse! Nothing more.’
‘She told you this?’
‘Told me? She had no need to tell me. The
Viscomte’s talents were famed throughout the bedchambers of Versailles.’
Enlightenment suddenly dawned upon Minette. ‘And in yours?’
The Marquise laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
‘Not such a fool as I thought. Yes, I sampled his wares. The more fool me.’
‘And you hate me because I remind you that you
betrayed your sister. That is the truth, is it not?’
‘You become tedious,’ announced the Marquise. But
her voice trembled a little. ‘I shall sleep now until dinner.’
The habits of a lifetime could not be overborne by
one instant of repugnance. Minette assisted her grandmother to take off her
outer garments, settled her, wrapped in her dressing gown, on the chaise
longue, bathed her temples with vinegar, and left her to sleep — all without
the reward of one smile or one word of
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