Paris, which, when I looked close, was a vast opéra-bouffe-féerie—and you did not know your role, I think, until it was too late, and the crowd was laughing at the joke you had uttered in all innocence. Which is to say there was another part of the evening I remembered for a very long time, and it began like this.
We will go to pay a visit to her after, the tenor said, as we stood. She is receiving friends.
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She threw open her own door and kissed me twice as I entered, smirking as if I had told her a joke. Even without her diamond suit, she dazzled. She wore an evening gown of a loose pink silk toile and her golden stage curls were gone—a shocking red mass of hair had replaced them. Up close, I could see she had the pale eyebrows of a blond, painted over to match her hair.
Eau de Lubin, I bathe in it! she shouted past my shoulder, as she drew her head back and looked me over. She had a loud Cockney accent and spoke English and French mixed together. Un plaisir! She took my hand and began to pull me up her grand staircase, littered as it was with celebrants. Our mutual friend dragged along behind. Chérie, she said to me then, dropping her voice, tell me, how much do you charge? You can tell me, whisper it here, and she pointed to her delicate ear.
Our audience on the stairs smiled drunkenly from below. You can’t afford her! she shouted down at one as he reached up. You still owe me! Look down! Look away from us. He looked down.
Again she asked, How much?
I lied to her, and said, Two thousand francs.
Chérie, it’s good that you are that price. Because then he can afford us both, and we can be friends! With that, she pulled me into her dining room.
I turned to see my friend behind me following along, a somewhat hurt expression on his face. Cora turned back with a grin. You see? You bring her here to flaunt her to me and now she’s more expensive, just like that. I do believe it’s all your fault. Cora pulled me back to her side. You’re so pretty, not in the ordinary way at all. You must allow nothing, and I mean nothing, to happen with our friend here until he can bring you to the opera with better than an enamel locket. He can afford it. Come with me. You! There! Give this petit ange something; are we still in champagne?
She did this constantly, turning to people you weren’t sure were there or in her sight, and she would yell to them directly as if she’d been speaking to them all along.
A cool glass of champagne came into my hand.
This way! she shouted, I understood, at me.
So, we will be like sisters, or first wife and second wife, or who knows? Who knows how many he has? she said airily, as she continued our procession. Three, five, a thousand.
Her dressing room was sumptuous with gowns thrown this way and that, as if it had been the scene of a fight. I dressed quickly, I always do, she said. She reached down to the floor. Here! This is what I wanted. Something for you, she shouted as she raised a small bag from Boucheron into the air. The gentleman who gave me this was unworthy, she said. I threw it at him and it landed here, but my maid still has not picked up. I must beat her. But you are a jeune fille still, you can wear this, it will look beautiful and it will be a sign of our good friendship, yes?
I pulled the velvet back until the box came into view and opened it.
Inside was a small emerald pendant, perfectly beautiful, but something of a pebble, it was easy to see, a poor companion to the dazzling collar, bracelets, and earrings she wore. I held my hand to my mouth and laughed. You didn’t give this to someone who had diamonds on the soles of her boots. You gave it to a woman who said her prayers before bed.
This was meant for his wife, I said finally.
Good eye, she said. Never trust a man who gives you something he was going to give his wife, she said. And with that, she pulled the necklace from the box and draped it around my neck and turned us to look into her mirrors.
The sight of her against my neck, like some terrifying devil come to tempt me, the beautiful small matrimonial emerald glinting in the candlelight. I knew it was more than I’d ever had. She smiled. He’s very handsome, isn’t he? she said. I nodded.
I will warn you of two things, she said then. He will try to make you a singer. Do you have a good voice?
I do, I said.
Good, she said. I didn’t, and I never will. See where I am now! If I had a voice, I could conquer. Now. Do you love him?
No, I said. I wasn’t sure, so it was easier to say no. Too easy, and I saw her catch it.
Never love, she said. Do you understand? Not him, not any of them. That is the secret to all of this around me.
Outside in her halls, the party in celebration of her debut raged. I waited silently, finally reaching up to touch the little gem at my throat.
Never love, she said. For if you do, that is all you’ll get, if you’re lucky. And nothing else.
I returned to the party in my necklace, Cora now behind me. My tenor friend smiled up at me and I knew instantly from his expression as he looked to my throat, while Cora’s laughter caroled against my neck, that he had given it to her.
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