Luce

----- LUCE -----

“Cerise? Is that you, child?”

The girl's shoulders fall as she exhales in defeat. “I am certain her deafness is only a ruse, for convenience when a conversation is one she doesn't want to bother with.”

“A useful tactic. Though it would be difficult to keep the façade intact in perpetuity.”

“That's probably where the feigned senility comes in.”

“Ah. Naturally. I presume it would be best if she were unaware of my presence?”

“Yes, I'm afraid so. She'd keep us up all night with accusatory questions, instead of just half the night if I'm alone.”

“Then adieu, Mon Cherie. I shall call again soon?”

“The sooner you call, the lighter my heart shall be. Good night, dear Luce.”

“Sleep well, sweet child.”

She slips through the door at the end of the hall, where she must pass the landlady's chamber before reaching her own, poor dear.  I remain in the hall, where only the faintest light spills in from the window at the door. I should not need any extraordinary level of hearing to be privy to conversation between these thin pasteboard walls - and while our conference at the doorstep was hushed, the landlady feels no need to restrain her aging voice.

“Now, I ain’t your mum, and I ain’t kin. You keep your end of our arrangement up right well, and never give me no complaint about what help I ask of you or what food I feed you. But even in a city big’s this’un, folks is nosy, and folks will talk.  You may not be kin but as long as you’re associated with me an’ my roof, your reputation reflects back on mine, young lady.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“How you can look so pure and sound so sweet, when I hear some of the strange folks you been keeping company with - old Missus Champers! Really! And I see you come back at all hours with strange men, who don’t never wait around so’s a body can put a question to them.”

“Ma’am.”  I smile - the tone in Cerise’s voice makes it clear in a single word that she hardly needs my help with this silly busybody. “My reputation is as clear as it was the day you welcomed me into your establishment.  I gave you no false pretenses - though, I should hardly be the first if I had. Your investigations might be more fruitfully made about Mr. Barrows on the fourth floor.”

“Harumph. Ain't none of your business, and he's made it clear ain't worthwhile for me to make it mine.”

“While my associates may not be ones with whom you are well acquainted enough to judge fairly, that does not mean they should be categorically judged poorly.  Mrs. Champers was quite well positioned in society before her husband passed, and her eclectic interests brought only amusement to her peers.  Growing old and being neglected by one’s family are hardly crimes, nor is visiting a lonely widow whom you’ve found to be a distant relative.”

“Well. I don’t profess to be expert on society types, who never were kindly to me. But I do wonder what your parents would think if---”

“My parents took no part in my arrangements with you, my business is my own.  And the men of whom you speak are gentlemen of quality, ma’am.  They are prominent in their own circles, where persons do tend toward showing more discretion than in yours, I think. Should you wish to be introduced, I would gladly do so - I fear only boring my companions.”

“Well! Your pretty words hide ugly thoughts. Your true nature comes out to be different indeed than what you first seemed.  You'd best keep that tongue wrapped up tight if you want to keep your place here, little miss. Or perhaps your fancy associates plan to supply bed and board for a sassy little---”

“I shall remain here for the time, I do not like to break an agreement, nor do I wish to impose upon friends as new as these are to me.  But, please,” and here her voice slips from confident woman to winsome child, the guise she wears for most she meets. I can hear the shy and sweet smile, the warmth in the wide violet eyes.  “Can we let my private life remain private? I do promise you, there’s nothing unseemly in it, and should there be at some time in future, I will publicly agree that you warned me against such an ill-advised path.”

“Now, now,” and the ploy has worked, the older woman is mere clay in Cerise’s deft hands. “You are right, I am sure you’re not involved in anything unladylike.  At least not of your own doing, that’s all I’m worried, you see?  But there, I had an awful day with Miss Coraline and her heathen children, it’s left me in a mood to set on anyone.  Go on to bed with you, and don’t come in so late of an evening if you don’t want an old lady to set to scolding.”

“That was my own silly fault tonight, I was determined to have a look at that new fountain, under such a bright lovely moon tonight, though it was terribly out of my way home!  I shall try to worry you less in future, it was quite silly, and probably stupid, of me.”

“Well, now, young things should get what beauty they can in this world while they’s young enough to have it.  Get you to bed now, child.”

I remain in place until I hear two doors close in turn - it wouldn’t do to have the proprietess hear her house’s door open and shut again now, though I can likely pass through without any sound she could hear.  I consider for a moment passing on through to follow Cerise to her chambers, from sheer curiousity as to what she would do on finding me there.  But for all she has learned of late, I doubt it would be anything interesting yet, merely innocent bewilderment.  There is plenty of time, I shall leave her to a chaste and contemplative solitude this night. I have seduced so many in these long years, and I think she will lead a far more interesting game than that.

Passing through the dim city streets, I breathe in deeply, letting the dank indigo air suffuse my being.  It is smoky, dingy, the scent of ash and mold on old brick, coal and gas and refuse mingling in the discard of these strange days of change, where animal and machine both play servant to mankind. I suspect this transition will soon pass, and the efficiency of the machine replace so many things… and while growth brings so many fascinating novelties into our hands, there are always things we shall mourn the loss of. Well! Or pretend to mourn, while indulging in the newest luxuries.  I certainly could never live in a peasant village again, not having once been in a city where I can pay a few coins to have a boy bring me any imaginable thing to eat or wear in an hour’s time.  One could always do so, of course, but the amount of coin needed is so little now, and the choices so vast - there was a time when cinnamon could hardly be found for even a king’s table in this country, and now I have grown tired of it, I have consumed its warm spice so often!

I sense an intangible warmth to my left, one of us approaching; it takes only a moment before I recognize the pattern of the footfalls as Mephisto’s. I slow my pace that he might match mine, and nod a greeting as he falls into step beside me.

“You have just seen Cerise home?”

“I have.  This is an unusual corner of the city for you to be in.”

“A new theater group debut,” he replies, waving a hand in airy dismissal.  “I knew of a promising one in their number, but the rest fall far short of his lead.  They shall not last a month, amounting to nothing.”

“We all appreciate your efforts in seeking out new entertainment, but I fear you must suffer quite a number of inept fools in your search.”

He sighs wearily. “I do.  There was a time when I would take it upon myself to lend them some aid, some advice or inspiration, or at the very least a scathing enough review that they would abandon their folly and go pursue their actual talents.  But I do grow weary, Luce, now I merely sigh and walk away from them.”

“They will learn or they will not. Their lives are so short it hardly matters either way. You cannot possibly tax yourself over every misguided youth, most are not worth even the time you’ve already given them.”

“True, true.  And yet… Luce, I know there is greatness somewhere in this world, or at least its potential. And with all I have learned and seen and known over these long years, I could create something of true beauty. If only I could find the right vessel for my care and attention.”

“Or you could simply take the stage yourself. Why bother training another, when you possess all that is needed and more, within yourself?”

Mephisto narrows his eyes, peering intently at me, then laughs long and loud as my smile peeks through.  “Ah, Luce… the light of your eyes sees through me again. I suppose I could do so again, one of these years, these centuries. It would be good to feel that power again, catch so many souls up in the tapestry my voice creates. But I think that time is not yet.”

“I suppose you have that boy in mind?”

“And I suppose you mean David? Of course. The irony of his name wounds me every time it passes my lips, but it will make for a lovely mythos in the advertising, don’t you think?”

“Certainly. The copy writes itself, really.”

“And so much is in the advertising these days. I have half a mind to make a sensation of a talentless mess such as I just left, merely to make a point.  But then I should be expected to patronize the latest darlings of the stage, and I haven’t the energy to suffer mediocrity.”

“Ah, the burden of the true artist.  He is forced to create, that he might have something in the world that satisfies his own standards.”

Our laughter hangs heavy in the smoky fog around us, the air too thick for an echo, our breath and mirth becoming a scarf close about our throats.