“Yes, I didn’t say you weren’t.”
“I decided to read on my break. I did everything I was supposed to. I very much like working here. I like it so much better than the house where I worked when I was younger. If you don’t want me to read, then I will not.”
“We are having two different conversations. I don’t care that you were reading. I want to know the title of the book.”
The girl’s cheeks turned a bright red. She looked down at her feet and then at Marie and then at the floor again.
“It’s Justine and Juliette, ma’am,” she answered with her eyes cast downward. “I was curious. I didn’t know how many inappropriate things were in it until I read it. I had no idea.”
“I’ve never heard of the book. Who is it by?”
“Sadie Arnett, ma’am.”
Marie felt her eyes grow three sizes bigger. She always had that sensation when she was taken off guard. She never knew whether other people were able to notice. How could she not have known Sadie had written a book? How could she have missed the most important thing going on in Sadie’s life? This was almost unbearably exciting news. She was feeling so many vulnerable and surprising feelings, she wanted to be alone. Even though she was quite good at keeping her emotions to herself, she might not be able to in this case.
And anyway, she wanted to feel these emotions to their fullest. She wanted to let her body shake and quake. She didn’t want to make it hold back.
“Will you go to the bookstore at once and get me a copy?”
Marie reached into her pocket and took out a bill. It was enough to buy ten books. But naturally, it didn’t matter to her. She would have given up her entire fortune, her house, to have a copy of that book in her hands.
“No, ma’am, you can’t get it at a bookstore. It’s a dirty book. It’s illegal.”
“Well, keep the money for yourself and give me your copy.”
The maid had trouble suppressing her smile, knowing it was a tiny fortune she had just come by.
“I’ll go get it from Lucy. She borrowed it from Rachel. I gave it to Sally to read and she was supposed to give it right back the instant she was done with it. But she gave it to Rachel. Never mind. You don’t need to know this. I’m going to go find you the book!”
The maid turned and darted out of the room. Marie sat doing absolutely nothing, waiting for the maid to return. She could almost hear the girls scuffling about, as though she were listening to mice moving about in the walls. She tried to visualize where the maid might be. She was imagining her quite on the other side of the house. And she was startled when the maid appeared in the doorway with the book in hand.
The maid placed it gently on the table with an odd amount of ceremony.
Then as she was about to leave, she hesitated one more moment and said, “I don’t think the character of Justine is much like you at all.” She made a quick curtsy and rushed out the door.
Marie had no idea what to make of this statement. She opened the book and started reading. And suffice it to say, it was the rare afternoon during which Marie did not think of the factory at all.
* * *
Marie’s first impulse upon reading the book was to reach out to Sadie. For her, the book was a declaration of love. Sadie had been so disappointed in her when she had returned from England. How could she not be! Marie hadn’t been bold enough then to forge a path on her own.
She wanted to rush down to the brothel and see Sadie. But she had made such a point on the phone about never speaking to her again, she felt she could not just show up. Perhaps Sadie would think she was star-struck and wanted to associate with her now that she was a famous author. And yes, of course this was true. But there was so, so, so much more to it!
They were both living out their dream now. And weren’t both their dreams a shared one?
* * *
After the publication of Justine and Juliette, the Golden Mile began gossiping about Marie Antoine all over again. It was very clear to them who the Justine figure was meant to be. She was almost glad to give them something to talk about other than her being a megalomaniacal business tycoon. It made her feel something akin to pride. Marie felt she was meant to be the hero of a book. This was why she was lonely and couldn’t relate to anybody. Her emotional life was meant to take place inside of a book. How could she ever have a true passionate love life in this stifling society? Instead, Sadie had created one for her in fiction.
Marie read the book three times. Funnily enough, even though everyone else thought of the book as pornographic, or at least transgressive, or at the very, very least adventurous, Marie found it to be a thing of great beauty. While Marie was busy rereading the book, there were so many people who began to object to its existence, declaring it obscene. The book was condemned by the morality police. This, of course, had the effect of making the book even more wildly popular. Marie kept abreast of the developments in the newspapers.
Naturally, the Arnetts had no intention of letting Sadie destroy their name without a fight. Sadie’s father and brother began campaigning ruthlessly for the suppression of the book and the arrest of Sadie Arnett. They leveraged all the political power they had accumulated over the years into this cause. And Sadie Arnett found herself being dragged from the brothel while a huge crowd quickly converged to watch the arrest of this beautiful, notorious whore.
Per her request, Marie was notified immediately the morning Sadie was arrested for infringing on morality laws. Marie burst into action. Marie shifted an incredible amount of money around, and quickly.
The forces of corruption and anti-corruption were always at odds in the city. They were never won by any moral factor but instead by whoever could pay the most. Morality had been coopted by capitalism. Montreal was forever susceptible to bribery and corruption and fraud.
Marie bribed the official to drop the charges against Sadie. And also to make sure she was never held accountable for indecency again. Her books would be allowed to be published and sold in bookstores. Those who were shocked by the indecency in the book would be told they were ignorant, that the book was an allegory for struggle and strength. It was like a Roman statue of a nude. Its beauty transcended vulgarity.