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Post by Jean Jondrette on Jun 18, 2008 19:34:45 GMT -5
Jean helped his wife and daughter onto the carriage that would take them to the gardens. He took his place next to Colette with Marie by her side and Yua in her arms. Jean told the stagecoach they were ready to depart and with a click from the stagecoach, they were off.
The first moment was silent, but broken by Jean who started a conversation. "Marie, according to your mama's letters, you're taking vocal lessons from her?"
Marie nodded and held Yua close to her. "Well that's wonderful, you must be a wonderful singer." Jean noticed that people's heads turned to the carriage at the site of the Marquis de Jondrette. They had almost forgotten about him in his years long departure.
Colette had warned him about rumors that were spreading in her letters. Mainly around him, saying that he planned on staying there and never returning. There was another one that he was becoming a monk, but it was cleared up when Colette corrected them saying he met with monks. But this was nothing new. He was always the center of affairs. Even in his younger years when he was a bachelor.
After some other conversations around business that occurred during his absence, they arrived at the gardens. Jean noted the beautiful of it at this time was year. The trees were bursts of pinks and reds in full bloom, the ground was greener than emeralds, the fountains ran cool with clear, crystal-like water. It was a sanctuary for all who were visitors.
Jean had made frequent escapes here in childhood. He was lonely, his parents never had him associate with families of lower class than them, and the ones either on their level or above them were mainly girls and that was considered indecent if they weren't courting. He came there to escape to another world, he went there to play with the street urchins out of his parents' sights (he had rags that he wore so he would blend in.) Those were the days before he had to grow up.
Jean expected Marie to run ahead of her parents and tell them to hurry up, but she stuck close to Colette's skirts and didn't travel far ahead at all. Jean didn't like how Marie was becoming a woman at two. She should be running, picking flowers, playing in the grass and splashing through puddles after a freshly fallen rain. But he knew that with women of high status that simply wasn't done.
"Let me know if you need to sit down, my dear," he said to Colette with concern. She nodded with a smile and a reassuring word.
He again noticed other upper class families looking at him seemingly saying the same greeting to him. "Jondrette? Jean Jondrette, you sly old fox, you've returned from the heathen lands."
Every old and young bourgeoisies men came up with some kind of offensive and annoying greeting. Jean never like them and hoped that they weren't showing up to his party. He did like certain men and their wives that were smart enough to hold a conversation with without talking about how rich they were.
"You know Colette, we must go see an opera at the Opera Populaire. I haven't seen it since its remodeling," said Jean.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 19, 2008 3:07:05 GMT -5
Marie took her mother's gloved hand in her own little one daintily and allowed Colette to help her down the stairs, although she made a great show of being able to do it by herself for the benefit of her papa. The butler opened the door for them and bowed as they exited the house and down the steps toward the conveyance situated just a few feet from the last step. The family climbed in and with a command from Jean, they were off.
Colette turned her head and watched the people strolling along the streets. This was a quarter of fortune in Paris, and she knew almost every face that they passed. Those that she did not yet know she memorized for later, as well as who they had been with. She was famous for remembering everyone that she had ever met. She noticed their interested stares as the Jondrette coat of arms passed before them. Her attention was turned away from the onlookers when Jean asked Marie, "Marie, according to your mama's letters, you're taking vocal lessons from her?"
Colette smiled with pride as Marie nodded shyly, holding Yua closer to herself. "Well that's wonderful, you must be a wonderful singer." Complimented Jean, and his wife came him an assenting look, silently affirming that Marie was quite the little musical prodigy. Marie continued to play with her doll, chewing idly on the inside of her left cheek.
Colette watched her husband and then turned her bright blue gaze to where it seemed her was looking: the watching crowd. Society had had quite a bit of fun poking about and saying ridiculous things about Jean in his absence. It was no strange matter for a man of consequence to travel about Europe, but to far Japan was rare. She understood their interest, but could not commend their lack of logic in the conclusions that they came to. A monk, even! Goodness, imagine that! Why in the world would a man of good fortune and civilization run off to Japan to become a monk? It was positively ludicrous; even so, it had sent tongues wagging for weeks. She wondered who had invented that little tidbit.
Jean and Colette chatted about such things, as well as happenings on the estate in the country, things that would need to be done, political movements, marriages of friends, etc. Marie snuggled between them quite comfortably, warmed through by the presence of her parents and the soothing safety that it provided her. She was in that moment a child completely content with the world around her, listening to birds chirping and her beloved mama and papa talking about things of which she had no understanding. When the coach halted she perked up and looked out the window at the beautiful place. She had been here before, as a baby, but had been too young to remember it. It was beautiful. She and Colette smiled at the sight, Marie with awe and Colette with nostalgia.
As they came down from the coach and began their stroll, Marie firmly lodged between her mother and father, Colette could not help but cough. She suppressed it as best as she could, for she did not want anyone to see her and suspect her illness. The fresh air of the park soothed her aching lungs, however, and it was very nice. The coolness of the evening air brushed against their burning and she inhaled, and she felt great relief. Replacing her handkerchief in her pocket after her coughing fit, she caught Jean watching her with concern. She smiled encouragingly, as if to say that she was fine.
"Let me know if you need to sit down, my dear, he offered. She felt warmed by his regard and smiled a bit brighter at him.
It wasn't long before acquaintances (some very distant) began to approach and greet them, some in very overly familiar and offensive ways. Jean and Colette had their closer friends in society, but they were often of the highly educated and philosophical caliber. While in Paris as a blooming girl before her marriage, Colette had been known for her circle of friends that were nothing but the greatest minds of France, and of Europe. She discussed physics with scientists and classical works with poets, debated with politicians and businessmen on economic issues. Many had been impressed just as several more had been scandalized. If she had been a man, she surely would have been revered. Her marriage to one such revered man of intellect had somehow pardoned her for her 'manly' pursuits of knowledge.
Most of the people approaching them now were of the reproachful sort, the foppish kind of society how-to-dos that dominated the ballrooms with their raucous laughter and idle gossip. She could tell that Jean was quite bothered by them, despite the social requirement to answer politely in kind. Leaning close to his ear for one moment, she whispered, "It shall be a relief to have an assemblage of our better friends at our ball, non?"
She smiled at him and they walked a little further before he spoke: "You know Colette, we must go see an opera at the Opera Populaire. I haven't seen it since its remodeling."
Marie suddenly got excited. "I was there!" She cried, grinning up at him. Colette chuckled, and then coughing a little. "Indeed; this morning Marie and I ventured to the building and it was quite beautiful. We met the acclaimed leading man, M. Rousseau. I should be happy to see a performance there. They are rehearsing for Roméo et Juliette, currently."
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Post by Jean Jondrette on Jun 19, 2008 16:23:52 GMT -5
Jean smiled at Colette when he heard this. "That's sounds wonderful, I believe that was one of the last operas I saw before I left. Actually one of the last operas I did see," Colette seemed confused. "In Japan, they didn't have many opera houses, they mainly have plays and such where the actors are more physical in acting and less talkative."
Colette seemed surprised. She loved opera and would be hurt if she never saw another one. Jean, though, was never one for plays. He preferred operas because of the flow of music in the background, it made it seem more real. He had thought it more real because he believed that, even if you didn't notice it, music was playing all around you.
"Actually, I think it was Christine Daaé who performed as Juliette in a charity concert before that masquerade. Is she still at the theater?"
Colette replied negatively, saying that she was performing as the leading lady in an opera called Don Juan Triumphant, and she was kidnapped on stage by a masked mad man. Christine was saved though and she soon married her secret fiancee, the Vicomte de Chagny afterwards. She gave up the opera and now her and husband were one of the richer couples at parties nowadays.
"I never thought something like that would happen. It's sounds right out of a storybook. But anyway, tell me more about M. Rousseau, the leading man. But wait, what happened to Piangi?"
Colette replied that he was murdered the night of Christine's kidnapping. Jean was shocked and a little disappointed because nothing strange ever happened when he was around, it all happened during his absence. But Colette went on talking about M. Rousseau and the opera house.
It sounded like the Opera had gotten more beautiful since his departure. Marie had strolled a little ahead of Colette, but to sniff the roses that grew along the path. Jean spoke up to her when Colette was finished speaking.
"Marie, do you want to hear a story?" Jean asked. Marie nodded an the three of them sat down on a bench near a fountain. "Well, it's about a beautiful girl and a horrible beast," Marie seemed a little afraid at these words, but Jean reassured her. "But he wasn't really horrible, just misunderstood. Now, this girl's name was Beauty and she lived with her father and three sister and her three brothers..." Jean went on with the story talking about how the father traveled and encountered a beast. Marie was captivated by the story and she loved the ending. "The Beast came back to life as a handsome prince and they were married. They danced at their wedding and they lived happily ever after. But also know this, mon ange, every rose that grew after that, was a sign of love between two people." At that moment he picked a rose from the bush behind them, careful of the thorns, actually picking them out as he spoke and handed it to Marie.
Marie smiled at the rose and petted the petals delicately with her little hands. Jean saw Colette smiling at them and they all got up. Marie went ahead of her parents and she seemed more like a child. Jean was happy that she was acting like this and hoped that she loved him, for he hoped she knew he loved her.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 19, 2008 17:32:22 GMT -5
Jean and Colette discussed Opera for a while, exchanging opinions and preferences. Jean told her about the plays in Japan, and although the idea was fascinating, she much preferred the operatic tale. She was a lover of music; to her, it was the thing beyond science, the liquid state of emotion. Music was the piece of her soul that was not cold.
The subject of Christine Daaé arose, and it was quite a tale to be told about her. All of Paris had been in a great fuss after that great tragedy, and many had died when the chandelier fell. Colette had not been to that fateful performance, for she had been home in the country with her babe. News of the disaster had traveled to her quickly, and she had even harbored some artist friends who had been employed and injured there for a time until they could get back up on their feet. It was a strange tale, to be sure.
She did not know what really had become of Christine Daaé in regards to the newly renovated Opera Populaire, but gathered that she would soon find out. It was rumored that she was indeed rising again as prima donna, but then again, it was also rumored that she was with child with quintuplets. The latter being doubtful, perhaps the former should be viewed with doubt as well. She spoke to Jean of the tragic death of Signor Piangi, the fleeing of La Carlotta, and then of the many new beautiful additions that had been made to the house's original design. She spoke last about M. Rousseau, affirming that he was handsome and well-mannered and quite popular with the ladies.
As they walked they watched Marie, wandering a little ahead of them so that she could stroke and smell the roses. Marie quite loved roses, partly because they reminded her of her mother. There was a portrait of her mother that hung in the foyer of their country estate, where she had grown up, in which her mother smiled benevolently down and held in her delicate hands a thorny rose with a ribbon wrapped around its stem. Moreover, Colette had a rose garden that she insisted on tending herself, but like how she had reared her daughter. Colette forever smelled like those roses, and Marie could not help but feel her loving comfort whenever she was near them.
"Marie, do you want to hear a story?" Jean asked. Marie turned to stare at her papa. Her blue eyes sparkled lovingly as she gazed at her parents, and Colette's blue eyes sparkled lovingly back. Marie nodded quickly, excited. She loved hearing stories. Colette sat down upon a pretty stone bench beside a comparatively small fontaine, and then lifted Marie to perch delicately upon her lap. Jean sat down beside them, and Colette was taken aback by the great affection in his eyes.
Throughout the tale, Marie sat stock still, her eyes glazed and staring into the water of the fountain as its spray rose to cool them. She leaned her head into her mother's chest and let herself be soothed by her mother's hands stroking her back, rhythmic and slow. When the story ended Jean reached back and plucked a rose, removing the thorns before handing it to Marie.
The little girl's face broke out into a smile and she slid down from her mother's lap, Yua tucked beneath her arm gently as she stroked the petals of the beautiful flower. She swore to herself that she would be as brave as la belle in that story, when she grew up. Her parents were up and walking again, and Marie was on a little aways playing with a little more abandon. She wandered: smelling the roses and plucking little flowers from among the grass, making wishes on dandelions, sending leaves afloat in fountains.
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Post by Jean Jondrette on Jun 19, 2008 18:30:30 GMT -5
Jean walked down the path slowly with Colette as they chatted some more. Marie was up ahead still picking flowers and handing them to her mother. Jean was happy to be back in paris, but he missed Hana and felt bad that he was out and about while she was stuck in the stuffy apartment. He wasn't cheap, in fact it was a fine apartment, but it wasn't completely furnished yet, only having a bed and a table with a few chairs, but Hana said that's all she needed at that moment. He also left food in the cupboards and a coffee table set up for her to eat at. She wasn't used to sitting at a table with chairs.
He tried not to look distant, in fact once he heard singing and music playing, it kept him at attention. "Colette, my dearest, I do believe there is a street performer." Colette noticed it to and spotted a dancer and a violinist.
They took Marie and headed over to the gazebo where they were performing. The two were street people by the looks of it. The dancer, a young teenaged girl, wore rags that looked like they were from an earlier century. The violinist was a man, maybe a few years older than her, who played a slow and enchanting song. There was another, a little girl who stood by the man singing sweetly in rags that were big for her. She sang a song of sunny days and hoping for a brighter day to come. After the song, she received an applause and the three ran when they saw the police running towards them.
Jean saw how they seemed like a professional group, but they were just street urchins that needed money. Before they ran, Jean placed a Louis in the hat they based on the step. The police were catching up to them and Jean knew their struggle. He'd seen so many of his friends being carted away because they were poor. Jean left his wife and daughter to go to the police and the urchins.
The police had held down the man, the teenaged girl tried threatening them and the younger girl shed tears as they held her captive. Jean walked up to the chief policemen, hoping to save them from prison.
"Monsieur le Inspector, what seems to be the problem?"
"These urchins were soliciting in the park. It is forbidden and punishable by time in prison," replied the police chief.
"How much would you take to release them?"
"50 francs, monsieur, a waste of money on your part."
Jean took out his wallet and pulled out 50 francs to give to the policeman. "Release them Inspector."
The policeman looked astonished and commanded them to release the three. Colette walked up with Marie and Marie looked at her father's act of kindness. The police left the site and the teenaged girl walked up to him.
"Why did you do that monsieur?" she asked.
"Because if everyone helped others, there would be no need for Heaven, for life on Earth would be perfect enough."
The man walked up to him and thanked him. He told the girls to come with him, that they had to get back to the slums before the charities left with food they were offering. The little girl hugged Jean and ran off with them.
Jean looked at Marie who was smiling at her father, for she knew what he had done. She also hugged him and kissed him. Colette was looking at him with kind eyes. She knew he was kind, but this was out of the ordinary for him.
"I know why you do all that charity work now, my dear," and Colette nodded positively.
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Jun 22, 2008 3:26:11 GMT -5
Colette found herself glancing constantly between her daughter, her husband, and the flowery green of the lawn beneath her feet. She watched adoringly as her daughter picked flowers and hurried back with her to deposit them in her hand. The bunch was growing to be quite a formidable bouquet in her hand. Then her eyes would flick to Jean, who conversed readily with her, and she would feel a pang of uncertainty. He was in love. She'd seen it, even felt it, quite enough. How could he be in love with her? Was it the long time spent apart? Had he felt this way from the beginning, and was only now expressing it?
Strains of beautiful music interrupted her thoughts. Jean said something that she didn't catch, but her eyes were already on the people that he seemed to be indicating. She watched the people there, so inspired and so desolate. A song that no child should sing lifted from the lips of a girl so small that it made Colette want to cry. If she were a painter she would have taken those three faces and etched them on a wall for all to see, and named them 'tragedy'. It was not the intense need and poverty that she saw there that struck her most. It was the happiness and the expression that was in their eyes, too. She knew it. She had hardly ever been without material needs, but every human should be able to understand what it was to suffer and thus appreciate the light.
Marie tucked herself safely into her mother's side, her dirty little glove sliding up to grip her mother's, making it dirty too. Colette and Jean moved with one will toward the group, where it was easy due to their status to move through to the front. Marie watched with wide, fascinated eyes. The song ended and the audience was generous with their praise.
No one seemed quite surprised when the police came barreling through the crowd, chasing down and then seizing the troupe of performers. Colette bristled, horrified, and started to move forward. Before she could even take a step, Jean was racing ahead of her. She stopped in her tracks, pulling Marie close to her. Marie looked shocked and panicked. She was crying out for the police to stop, but her voice was tiny, as if it were too scared to leave her throat.
Jean arrived on the scene and quickly spoke to the officer. Colette watched as he deposited a large sum of money into the hand of the offending official, and as that official ordered the release of the people. She took in a deep breath, and then broke into a fit of coughing. Her lungs ached horribly, strained by so much walking, talking, and then worrying. Marie looked up at her mother, scared She had not seen her cough so terribly before. Colette finally was able to gasp in some air, and looked down at Marie. She beamed down at her and said, "I think that I swallowed a bug! Eck!" This made Marie laugh. Her mother then gestured to Jean, who was returning to them. "Your father has done a great thing." She said. Marie smiled, and said softly, "I know!"
Both stared lovingly at the man in question as he came beside them. Marie reached up her arms so that he could lift her for a hug and a kiss. "I know why you do all that charity work now, my dear," He said, and Colette's smile widened. She swallowed the blood in her mouth down with difficulty and then felt a bit sick to her stomach. Placing her hand on Jean's sleeve, she said, "It is grown quite dark. Shall we retire for supper?"
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