Memoirs of a Courtesan in Nineteenth-Century Paris (6 page)

‘ The child is at my house.’

G

pinched his lips. The police chief said, ‘ Sir, you heard, your wife has left. As for the child, she is not yours. I advise you to leave them both alone.’

M. Mathieu left feeling victorious, but he could detect a sinister smile on G

’s face. So he promised himself to be even more careful about keeping my mother’s refuge a secret.

When he went to see her that evening, he took a circuitous route because he had once again seen G

lurking about.

     

My mother could not get used to the thought of being without me.

She wanted to come for me. M. Mathieu had a devil of a time calming her down.

‘‘Now, my dear friend, give me three days and in three days, I promise, you will have your daughter back.’

I had a heavy heart that whole next day. My little Mathieu went for a walk with his father. They saw G

at a spirits shop almost across

the street from the house where we lived. As soon as G

saw them,

he paid his bill and followed them the whole way.

The next day, same routine. M. Mathieu and his son went into a house with two exits, stayed a half hour on the stairs, and took off again in front of G

.

The third day, after dinner, M. Mathieu told his wife, ‘‘We must get Céleste dressed. I am sure that her mother must be going insane. If we wait too long, she will do something rash.’



The Hunter and the Hunted

‘ Oh! In her situation I would feel the same way,’ said Mme Mathieu.

‘ The little boy is in bed. He must be asleep already. Come, Céleste.’

And, taking my hand, she led me to her room, opened the cabinet where her son was asleep,3 and came back with some of his clothing under her arm.

‘ Come here, I shall unfasten your dress!’’

I undressed so quickly that I was tearing everything. Dear little Mathieu’s clothes fit me perfectly. The father came to see if I was ready. I flew into his arms.

‘‘Woman, give her the little mackinaw coat. It is rather cool out. And bring her cap down over her eyes. Does she not look cute dressed like this. Pierre is going to come with us.’

Pierre, the servant, entered at that moment. He was coming to tell us that G

was at his post again.

‘‘Well,’ said M. Mathieu, ‘‘we must go.’

He grabbed his cardigan and the three of us left. My legs were shaking and I would have fallen down if M. Mathieu and Pierre had not held on to me.

G

was following us. One time, he came so near us that I thought he had recognized me. But he backed off and, when he saw that we were taking the same route that M. Mathieu and his son had taken the day before, he left us.

We reached the house where my mother was living.

M. Mathieu picked me up. We saw a light at the top of the stairs and heard my mother’s voice.

When she saw us arrive, she let out a yell, ‘ Oh! That is not my daughter. She was taken from you!’’

I ran toward her and frantically said, ‘‘Maman, you do not want to kiss me?’’

She recognized my voice, lifted me in her arms, and almost suffocated me with her caresses.

Kind M. Mathieu was laughing heartily.

‘‘Now, calm down. Our ruse worked. Do not worry, I shall come back as soon as possible and I shall give your address to Pomerais.’



3

o TheLyonInsurrection

M. Raoul’s Naïveté—Shadows over the City of Canuts—

A Villainous Plot—To Fire and Sword—Urchin at the Guillotière—

Two Bullets to the Head

  M. Mathieu found for us included a cabinet and a bedroom with two large windows looking out on the wharf. The view was splendid. We could see a great number of boats going up and down the Rhône. Across from our windows there was a long bridge, and at each end of the bridge were two towers that served as toll booths.

Two days later M. Mathieu had a cart full of walnut furniture brought to us: a bed, a dresser, chairs, a table, a mirror. We put our trestle bed in the cabinet, and that became my room. Dear Mme Mathieu sent us sheets and towels. We had never been that well-off.

That evening, we spent some time with our neighbor M. Raoul. As we entered his workplace, the regular sound of four Jacquard looms made us dizzy. M. and Mme Raoul were wonderful people, but so dull that as soon as evening had descended upon the room where we would gather, I went into a deep sleep.

. ’ 

We had been in our new abode two months without anything happening to disturb us. My mother worked like a dog almost every night.

The canuts employed children to tie the threads to their bobbins.

These children, who are approximately ten or twelve years old, earned ten sous a day. After some observation, I learned how to do it. M. Raoul noticed and told my mother, ‘‘If you wish, I can hire Céleste, and if she earns some money, that can help you a little. I shall put her at my frame.

She will not get tired.’

My mother hesitated, but I pleaded so much with her that she relented. She would settle near me to do her work.

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The Lyon Insurrection

After two weeks a new dress was purchased with my money, and we went to see M. Mathieu. You cannot imagine how proud I was. I was earning my keep; that meant I was a grown woman! I was the one who had bought this dress. I spent so much time prancing around in front of my poor little friend that we did not get to play all day.

Early the next day I was at my post. My mother worked near me and M. Raoul. I can still see him raise his eyeglasses over his forehead and say, ‘‘My dear friend, do you realize what a sad life you are leading? Living alone at your age, always working, no holidays, no Sundays off. . . . Perhaps you should have tried once more to see your husband.’

‘‘If you knew my husband,’ my mother replied, ‘‘you would understand that there is no recourse with him.’

My mother did not like saying anything bad about her husband, so it was only when pressed that she talked about her suffering. She did not provide many details; therefore, kind M. Raoul did not perceive motives serious enough for separation in her vague complaints.

‘‘Now,’ he told my mother, ‘‘I do not want to scare you but I must tell you what happened yesterday. You had just gone out, when a nice-looking, well-dressed man asked to speak to me alone. ‘Sir,’ said this man, ‘I hope that my name will not scare you. I was in the wrong, but every sin can be forgiven. My name is G

. My wife lives here, in

lodgings you are renting to her. Because you are an honest man, I come to you for help in obtaining forgiveness. I was unfair and violent. I regret it, and I swear I shall not do it again. Tell my wife to try once more to live with me. We shall reside in this house, and you will be able to judge my conduct. Sir, believe me, I am sincere.’ And as he spoke, his eyes filled with tears.

‘‘I asked him how he got your address. He replied, ‘I sent the wife of a friend of mine to M. Mathieu’s and she said that I had left, and she wanted to know Jeanne’s address to tell her the good news. Pierre, the domestic, gave out your address. I have earned eight hundred francs in six weeks doing mechanical repairs. I can entrust you with the money.

It is for my wife.’

‘‘I told him that I could not take his money but that I would pass on the message.’

My mother listened to Raoul without breathing. ‘‘Well,’ she said, ‘‘I am doomed. Where will I escape to now?’’

M. Raoul was alarmed. ‘‘My dear, what are you talking about, escaping? You cannot abandon all your things. What do you have to lose in trying? With the money he is offering you, you will be able to pay



The Lyon Insurrection

off what you still owe on your furniture, and you can keep part of it in case a need or a problem arises.’

My mother let out a cry rather than a sigh. ‘ The thought of seeing this man again drives me mad and if he comes into my room, I shall throw myself out of a window!’’

‘‘Now, what a fine way to solve everything! And your daughter, madame, do you plan to throw her out of the window also?’’

My mother slumped into her chair, twisting her arms. I ran to her and, as I kissed her, I told her, ‘ Since he promises not to harm us any more, try it, Maman. Here, we have nothing to fear.’

She sorrowfully shook her head. ‘ What time is he supposed to come?’’

‘‘Soon.’’

The clock struck twelve.

She got up, went out for a few minutes, and came back with a roll of paper in her hand.

‘‘Here,’ she told M. Raoul, ‘ read this and you will know the man who was deceiving you yesterday and who is going to lie to you again.’

It was a copy of the request she had made in Paris to try to get a separation.

After reading it, Raoul lowered his head, returned the paper to my mother, and apologized to her.

Someone came to let him know he was expected in the next room. He motioned for my mother to accompany him. She followed him, leaning on each piece of furniture.

     

G

was holding his hat in his hand. His back was to the window. He made a move as if he was going to grab me, but my mother positioned herself between the two of us and asked him, ‘‘What do you want?’’

‘‘But,’ he said slightly taken aback, ‘‘I want to make peace with you.

I shall make you happy. I swear it before this man. Come and give us a little kiss, Céleste!’’

Needless to say, I did not move an inch. My mother was thoughtful for a while, then she leaned toward me. ‘ Go, Céleste,’ she whispered,

‘ go kiss your stepfather.’

Pushing me toward him, she said to me, ‘ Go on, he will not harm you. You see, M. Raoul, my daughter cannot overcome her fear; that is because, under the pretext of kissing her, he used to kick her legs and leave marks as black as ink. Or else he would pull her pigtails so hard that when I combed her hair big clumps would fall out.’



The Lyon Insurrection

‘‘You exaggerate, Jeanne,’ said G

to my mother, ‘ but I shall

make you forget all that.’

The next day he was settled in our room. He pretended to be happy.

Since he had brought trunks, which were in our way, M. Raoul let us have an attic whose door faced ours on the landing and formed the slant in the roof. The house was only three stories tall, and we were on the third floor.

G

did not stay home much. He always had plenty money even though he gave some to my mother, who would hide it for future needs.

Many men would come see him. My mother begged him to entertain his friends elsewhere because their visits interfered with her work.

Each day he went out more frequently. My mother thought it best to let M. Raoul know.

‘ G

is not working. He has money. Sinister looking individuals come to visit him. I am afraid that he is about to do something evil.’

It is possible that in very different circumstances M. Raoul would have paid less attention to my mother’s premonitions, but we were, un-beknownst to us, on the eve of a terrible tragedy. The rebellion in Lyon was beginning to loom menacingly. For some time now M. Raoul had been noticing early signs. He found out that G

was keeping com-

pany with all the men who were suspected by the police, that he was going to reunions where very violent passions were being stirred up.

Revolutions have a quite horrible side, and I have kept a dreadful impression of all that I saw then. All trade stopped; groups were forming in the streets; workers were in revolt; hideous men, who looked like they had escaped from prison, would participate in those gatherings.

Shaking like a leaf, I could hear around the neighborhood where we lived all sorts of death threats and arson plans being uttered.

  

One day G

came home with a menacing look in his eyes. He told us that he had friends he needed to see and ordered us to vacate the apartment. My mother answered that she did not want to be compromised, that he would have to go somewhere else. G

angrily tight-

ened his fists.

‘‘I am going to come at noon and you had better be gone from here or I shall squash you both.’

Then, noisily opening the windows, he added, ‘‘Look, Jeanne, all these people on the wharves. A revolution is starting. Three days from now, I could kill you, and no one would ask me what happened to you.



The Lyon Insurrection

Your friend Raoul, no doubt your lover, will be hanged from this window and bled dry like a pig. The rich are in for it! Those idiots who give us money to serve them! We shall demolish their houses and find their safes.’

I ran to my mother. He pounced on me, furious, took me by the arm, and threw me across the room. I landed dazed against the door of the cabinet where I slept. My poor mother stood up like a wounded lioness.

‘ Coward! Wretch!’’ she screamed.

He simply grabbed the poor woman’s body, brutally forced her to go down on her knees, and left, repeating, ‘‘I want this room at noon.’

As soon as the door was closed, my mother crawled over to me. I was softly crying. She looked at my arm. The internal bleeding had left a bluish mark.

‘ The monster! The monster!’’ she was yelling. ‘‘Who will rid me of this murderer?’’

She took me in her arms to lift me off the floor where I had remained.

I showed her my hip and my knee. Both those parts had hit the tiles and were bruised.

‘ I am going to put you to bed.’

Once I was in bed, she applied water and salt compresses to the bruises and went down to the druggist to buy some poultice. Muffled sounds were coming from the wharf.

I was feverish. I asked for something to drink. My mother did not have any sugar, so she went back downstairs. She saw G

talking to

a group of men just a few feet from the house.

She came back upstairs, frightened.

‘‘What am I going to do?’’ she said to herself. ‘ Going to Raoul’s would be exposing him to danger. And my daughter, in her condition, I cannot take her with me. Oh, God! what am I going to do? If he finds us. . . .