The Lady and the Unicorn by Tracy Chevalier Page A

thou exalt like the horn of an unicorn.” Do you know about the unicorn's horn?’ Nicolas winked at me as he said it.
Aliénor didn't seem to be listening to him, but was wrinkling her nose in disgust. Then I smelled it, and a moment later Nicolas did too. ‘ Bon Dieu , what is that?’ he cried. ‘It smells like a barrow full of piss!’
‘It's Jacques Le Bœuf,’ I said. ‘The woad dyer.’
‘Is that what woad smells like? I've never been near the stuff. In Paris they have to work outside the city walls in a place no one goes near.’
‘Here too, but he still comes into town. The smell clings to him but you can't ban a man from his business. Mind you, his dealings are always brief.’
‘Where's the girl?’ Jacques Le Bœuf's booming voice came from inside the house.
‘Georges is out, Jacques,’ we heard Christine say. ‘Come back another day.’
‘Not him. I want to see her, just for a moment. Is she in the shop?’ Jacques Le Bœuf poked his shaggy head around the door. His smell always makes my eyes water. ‘Hello there, Philippe, you rascal. Where's Georges' girl, then? Is she hiding from me?’
Aliénor had dropped to the floor and was crouching behind the loom.
‘She's gone out,’ Nicolas said, cocking his head to one side and crossing his arms over his chest. ‘She's gone to get me some oysters.’
‘Has she, now?’ Jacques pulled his whole body into view. He is a big man, like a barrel with a scraggly beard and hands stained blue from the woad. ‘And who are you to be telling her what to do?’
‘Nicolas des Innocents. I've designed the new tapestries for Georges.’
‘The Paris artist, are you?’ Jacques crossed his arms as well and leaned against the doorway. ‘We don't think much of Paris men, do we, Philippe?’
I made to answer, but Nicolas got in before me. ‘I wouldn't bother waiting for her. I told her to get the best oysters, you see — only what is fit for Parisians to eat. That may take her some time to find in this city, for I do not think much of your fish market.’
I stared at Nicolas, wondering why he would dare to provoke a man so much bigger than he. Didn't he want to keep his face pretty for the women? I heard Aliénor shift beside the loom and tried not to look at her. Perhaps she was thinking of coming out, to save Nicolas from his rash words.
Jacques Le Bœuf also seemed surprised. He didn't respond with his fists, but narrowed his eyes. ‘Is that your work, then?’ He came to stand next to us and look down at the paintings on the floor. I tried not to gag at the smell. ‘More red than blue in them. Maybe it's not worth my while for Georges to work on them.’ He grinned and made to step on the painting of the Lady with the unicorn in her lap.
‘Jacques, what are you doing?’
Christine's sharp words made Jacques Le Bœuf freeze, his foot dangling over the painting. He took a step back, the sheepish look on his big face comical.
Christine hurried up to him. ‘If this is your idea of a jest, it's not funny. I said Georges was out. He'll come to speak to you soon about the blue wool for these tapestries — if you don't ruin them first. Off you go, now — we're busy here.’ She opened the door onto the street and stood aside.
It was like watching a dog round up a cow. Jacques hung his head and shuffled to the door. Only when he was in the street did he pop his head back through a window and say, ‘Tell the girl I was asking for her.’
When we were sure he was gone, his rank smell fading, Nicolas leaned over and smiled at Aliénor by the loom. ‘You can come out now, beauty — the beast is gone.’ He held out a hand. After a moment she reached out and took it, then let him help her up. When she was standing she raised her face to his and said, ‘Thank you, Monsieur.’
It was the first time she had looked at him in the way that Aliénor looks — her eyes trying but not able to meet anyone's — and Nicolas' smile disappeared as he gazed into her face. He