Memoirs of a Courtesan in Nineteenth-Century Paris by Celeste Mogador Page B

What did you see at her house?’’
    Thinking about this poor girl who had compromised herself out of the goodness of her heart, I had recovered and answered firmly.
    He looked at me with suspicion.
    ‘‘Were you in a state of vagrancy when she found you? Why did you not go home to your mother’s?’’
    He looked at me as if he wanted to read deep into my soul. Apparently this examination went in my favor because he then said, ‘‘I shall have to keep you until she comes. I shall send an aide.’
    He rang and someone came to get me. Thérèse was waiting for me impatiently.
    ‘ So,’ she said, ‘‘what happened?’’
    ‘‘I have to wait for my mother here.’
    Thérèse was called. I shook her hand.
    She came back all cheerful: she was going to leave! This thought woke me up. I looked at her with envy: she was free, and I had to stay.
    After roll call we went into the house of detention.
    When we walked through this cursed door and I heard it shut behind me, it seemed like its hinges had just crushed my heart.
      
    The door opened and someone called out, ‘ Céleste!’’ I thought they were coming to get me and I ran to the door. I was handed a package and a piece of paper. I read:
    

    Thérèse
    My dear Céleste, do not worry, I am going to see your mother. I am sending you a comb, some soap, a towel, a scarf. I am leaving but I shall not forget you. I am sorry I am what I am. You will soon hear from me.
    Thérèse
    Night was falling and we arranged the mattresses on the floor like cots. The singer was gone, and there were two new ones—two children—who began to quarrel. They were sisters.
    ‘‘It is your fault. I told you to be careful.’
    ‘‘No, it is not my fault. The lady had wrapped her purse strap twice around the chair rung and I thought it was loose. The chair moved and the old woman woke up. I brought you the purse. She let me do it and then she had us arrested.’
    ‘‘Be sure to say you found it on the floor, or you will see!’’
    And, saying this, she walked toward her. The little one backed up, and I let her hide behind me.
    ‘‘Why not leave this little girl alone. Are you planning to beat her now?’’
    She started to hurl insults at me and wanted to get through anyway.
    I have never had much endurance, but I have always been strong: with one shove, I sent her rolling to the other end of the room.
    Luckily for her, the mattresses were spread out, but she returned to the attack, furious, saying that she would stab me with a knife.
    ‘ Try it,’ said my beggar. ‘‘I am going to call, and I shall say why you want to beat us.’
    I stayed there six days and six nights, without news, without a word.
    Finally the four of us were sent for. We were told to take all our things, that we were leaving the house of detention.
    I saw a large car, like a bus, but with wire mesh all around it.
    Someone tugged at my skirt: it was Thérèse, who, huddled on the stairs, watched me leave.
    ‘ Oh,’ I said, ‘ have you not seen my mother?’’
    ‘‘No, she has not returned and I could not write you: there are no letters in correction. Be patient, I shall not forget you. This man knows where you are.1 I told him. He did not want to give me your mother’s address, but I am watching for her return.’
    The women were coming out so she ran off.
    ‘‘Well!’’ The warden told the municipal guard, ‘‘Why do you let the prisoners talk?’’
    ‘‘Really now! Do they look like state prisoners?’’
    

    Thérèse
    ‘‘You must be joking! I would rather have traitors than these women.
    Some are quite devilish! Come on, aboard. . . .’
    And he pushed me up.
    I was horrified to find myself in this sort of iron cage. I wanted to throw myself out of it.
    ‘ I do not want to stay in here!’ I shouted. . . .
    And I was struggling among five or six women.
    ‘‘If you do not sit still, I shall have you sent to solitary confinement,’
    said the