We changed trains and then came up into daylight again at Pigalle. Ellie suggested that she wander around and look at things while I fed the baby. I was relieved to find Liam playing happily. He had already had some good soup, Madeleine told me. I went into her bedroom and nursed him, but he didn’t seem too interested, making me wonder if she had done this too before I arrived. But the good thing was that he was safe and he was happy. Ellie was bubbling over with enthusiasm when I met her again on the corner of the Rue des Martyrs. “Do you know that they have a market for artist’s models in the square every Monday? It’s too bad that Peter arrives next Monday or I’d be tempted to try my luck. Although I suspect I look too pure for most of their paintings. And I’ve found somewhere good to eat. Come on. I’m starving.”
She led me to a little bistro on the far side of Pigalle. The place was redolent with the scent of herbs and garlic and several tables were full of young men who might have been artists or poets. Some of them looked up as we passed, and one or two called out to Ellie. We sat in a corner and Ellie ordered us two bowls of the rabbit fricassee. “I was told it’s their specialty” she said. “I’ve only been eating things that I know would appall them at home. I’ve tried frog legs and snails too. I’m going the whole hog since this is my one chance of freedom.”
“Ellie,” I said hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing by getting married right away? You clearly want to experience life first.”
She gave me a bleak stare. “What choice do I have? I simply can’t live at home any longer. My mother is completely under the dreaded stepfather’s thumb now and I’m ordered around like a little girl. And I can’t touch my trust fund until I turn twenty-five or I marry … so it’s the only option really.”
“But do you love Peter?”
“Of course not. I hardly know him. But he’s good-looking and he treats me as if I was made of porcelain and might break, so I’m sure he’ll take good care of me.”
“Do you want to be taken care of?”
“Not really.”
“Then don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“You mean stay on in Paris and make my living as an artist’s model?”
“Not quite as extreme as that.” I had to laugh. “I don’t think artists’ models make enough money to keep them in the style you’re accustomed to. And it seems to me as if most of them become the mistress of the artist who paints them, which I certainly wouldn’t want for you. But you could put off marriage and go to a ladies’ college for more education. My friends went to Vassar and loved every moment of it.”
“I’m afraid I’m not the best student,” she said. “I’d feel stupid in a college of brilliant bluestockings.”
“Then what would you like to do?”
“Live life. Be free. Travel. Make friends. Go dancing.”
The waiter put down two bowls of rabbit fricassee and a basket of bread. “You like to dance?” he asked in broken English. “In Montmartre are many dancing places. You must come to the Moulin de la Galette on Sunday. Dancing en plein air—how you say?”
“Outside?” she asked.
He nodded. “Oui. Very nice. Beside the old windmill. I go there with my friends. You have good time with us. You will come?”
“I don’t know…” she turned to me for approval. “Should I go? Will you come with me?”
“Ellie, I’m a married woman with a baby. I can’t go out dancing.”
“You will be quite safe with us,” he said. “Many many people at the Moulin. All dancing and having good time.”
“It does sound lovely,” she smiled wistfully. “But I don’t know about coming up here alone at night. Is it safe?”
He laughed then. “Mademoiselle, the dancing begins in the afternoon. Of course it continues under the stars but you can depart when you wish. Many families bring picnic. You will have good time, I think.”
She looked at me again. “In the afternoon, Molly. You could bring your baby. It would be fun.”
“Yes, it does sound like fun,” I said. “But I have a lot of things on my mind at the moment. I’ll join you if I can.”
She beamed at him again. “I’ll try to come, even if Molly is an old stick-in-the-mud.”
“I will await you, mademoiselle. My name is Jean. My friends and I we study at the école des Beaux-Arts to be painters.” He paused then added, “And pay for our existence by being waiters.”
Ellie held out her hand to him. “I’m Ellie,” she said and gave him a radiant smile.
Twenty