CLAIR DE LUNE'S
Part 5's
He looked out the window. Like Monsieur Dupoint, he can also see the back of the theater performing ballet every night. Inside the building, on this day, almost the entire age of Clair-de-Lune, his daughter passed away.
The boy is okay, he thought again. He is also an ideal grandson. Taciturn. Submissive. Disciplined. And he has the talent of being a really reliable dancer. It should be. Well, at the very least, that's how it should be in this miserable world.
But, as he stood staring out the window, staring without really noticing, his mind turned again to that fateful day many years ago; the moment after the last night of staging, when his daughter died.
# # #
That night the room was dark, the illumination only seemed to radiate faintly from the fireplace and the candle, and the air was heavy with an unfamiliar scent. Clair-de-Lune's grandmother came carrying the baby across the wind and rain; the baby was wrapped tightly but her tiny face was cold and damp and she cried slowly (as if you knew!)
“The payment,” said the woman.
Grandma Clair-de-Lune surprised.
“The payment,” said the woman again. “If you have paid me, I will answer all your questions honestly. But before you pay, I can't say anything.”
Clair-de-Lune's grandmother took out a wallet full of coins and placed it on the table between them. This woman's wages are expensive—more than her ability to pay. But he did charge the most expensive price in the entire country!
What is the point of going to someone who
are we not sure of his ability?
The woman looked at the baby, and touched his cheek.
The baby immediately stopped crying, and stared fixedly at the fortuneteller. It was as if the baby was speaking without words.
“He is talented to be a great dancer,” said the woman.
“Like his mother!” sigh of Grandma Clair-de-Lune.
“Only one thing can prevent it..”.
“What? What?”
And the woman leaned her head and whispered in the ears of Grandma Clair-de-Lune.
Grandma Clair-de-Lune leaned back in her chair, stunned.
“Persis his mother,” his whisper.
“Ah, but you don't understand!” said the woman
mean business. He was afraid to see the expression on the face of Grandma Clair-de-Lune. “Yes, it can prevent him—but he can't dodge. If he tried to do one without the other, he would starve!”
But Clair-de-Lune's grandmother didn't want—and didn't
cana—listen.
“What should I do? How to
prevented?”
“Prevent it? But, you can't prevent it!”
“Harus—must—if I can. Can I?”
The woman's face was terrified. But, as
regulation in the world of fortune-telling, he must tell whatever his customers ask.
reluctant. “Enter in a cage. Here's the antidote.”
Grandma Clair-de-Lune knows what she means. For when a child sleeps, a little bird flies from the child's heart and perches nearby, sometimes on the bedpost, sometimes on the window ledge, sometimes where?—while breathing fast and muttering to yourself.
That night, while Clair-de-Lune was sleeping, her grandmother went into her room and coaxed the bird to his finger with a piece of sweets
fruity. Then he put it in a golden cage that he bought specifically for that purpose. The heart of the bird, which appeared behind its silvery feathers on its chest, glowed red and gold. The baby Clair-de-Lune laughed and clapped the next morning, when she saw the beautiful bird in the cage. But before long, somehow the door of the cage opened and
the bird escaped through the door and out the window.
They never saw the bird again.
Deep in his heart Clair-de-Lune's grandmother knew, which was why Clair-de-Lune could not speak; and he felt anxious thinking the bird was not where it should be.
When Clair-de-Lune's grandmother moved out of her room,
the fortune teller cried because he had been forced to come clean. But then he drew his crystal ball closer, whispered and defended his back-and-forth, and finally bowed to look at it attentively. A tear fell on the glass, and when the seer saw the scenes, he smiled with a satisfied heart.
“Everything will be fine,” murmured.
# # #
Anyone who really knows Clair-de-Lune
surely knowing that when he entered from the door, he kept a secret. But her grandmother did not realize it.
Grandma doesn't know when I'm happy, I thought
Clair-de-Lune's chat. I don't know when I'm sad. But, it seems he knows everything.
Clair-de-Lune didn't waste time thinking about how Bonaventure, a rat, could talk. He also did not waste time doubting that the mouse could dance. There is nothing surprising in this magical world. But, what he did earlier made him anxious—because, although it is not clear why, he is sure his grandmother would not agree he chatted with a mouse. And if his grandmother didn't agree that he was talking to a rat, that would be wrong.
“Ah, you're home, son. Quickly change clothes. Then
lunch!”
Clair-de-Lune immediately changed her dress to a gray-pigeon-striped white shirt with a wide belt in pink and white collar, and sat quietly at the table. Then (as usual) he ate, his civility might be while (as usual) his grandmother looked at him like a cat staring at a mouse.
“Sit upright, Son. How many times do I have to tell you? Your back should not be stuck on the back of the chair. And where are your legs?”
Clair-de-Lune untied her cross-legged legs and obediently placed them on the floor.
Of course, he didn't talk to the rat. Not even a word! Clair-de-Lune almost smiled. Almost. Because he knew, listening to the rat was already a crime—especially if you go with him to the monastery!
What monastery does he mean?
“Don't eat for so long, son. You will not be able to follow your lesson. Try not to be the Slow Eat!”
Clair-de-Lune used to be Slow to Eat. He did not intentionally do it—even realized was not—but there is a reason.
Eating slowly makes her feel like she is eating more than she really is. He always felt hungry, but now he was used to it so he hardly noticed it anymore.
They are not always poor. When La Lune was still a famous dancer, they were quite wealthy. They live in a lovely little house across the park, and employ a cook named Mrs Mobbs and a maid named Nellie, also having a little King Charles spaniel-type dog called Chouchou, who is also known as a, and have lots of food.
Seriate…