Honeymoon in Paris: A Novella

studio, lighting the acetylene lamps, the candles that were wedged in empty wine bottles, wedging his cigarette into the corner of his mouth as he adjusted the drapes. And then he walked up to me and wrapped his arms around me, squinting in the half-light better to see my face.
    ‘It is only five o’clock. I was not expecting you yet,’ I felt as if I had woken from a dream.
    ‘So soon after we are married? I couldn’t leave you for long. Besides, I missed you. Jules Gagnaire is no substitute for your charms.’ He pulled my face gently to his and tenderly kissed my ear. He smelt of cigarette smoke and
pastis
. ‘I cannot bear to be away from you, my little shop girl.’
    ‘Don’t call me that.’
    I stood up and walked away from him, through to the kitchen area. I felt his gaze, faintly bemused, after me. In truth I didn’t know what I was doing. The bottle of sweet wine was long empty. ‘You must be hungry.’
    ‘I’m always hungry.’
    He is a man of great appetites.
    ‘I … left my bag at the market.’
    ‘Hah! ’Tis of little importance. I, too, was barely conscious for most of the morning. It was a fine night, last night, wasn’t it?’ He chuckled, lost in reminiscence.
    I didn’t answer. I fetched two plates and two knives, and the remnants of that morning’s bread. Then I stared at the jar of
foie gras
. I had nothing much else to give him.
    ‘I had the most excellent meeting with Gagnaire. He says the Galerie Berthoud in the sixteenth wishes to exhibit those early landscapes. The work I did in Cazouls? He says he has a buyer for the two larger ones already.’ I heard him uncork a bottle of wine, the clink of two glasses as he placed them on the table.
    ‘I also told him of our new system for collecting my money. He was most impressed when I told him of last night’s efforts. Now I have both him and you working alongside me,
chérie
, I’m sure we will live in the grand style.’
    ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ I said, and placed the bread basket in front of him.
    I don’t know what had happened to me. I couldn’t look at him. I sat down opposite and proffered the
foie gras
and some butter. I cut an orange into quarters and put two pieces on his plate.
    ‘
Foie gras
!’ he unscrewed the lid. ‘How you do spoil me, my love.’ He broke off a piece of bread and smeared it with a slice of the pale pink pâté. I watched him eat it, his eyes on mine, and just for a moment I wished desperately that he had never liked
foie gras
, that he hated it. But he blew me a kiss and smacked his lips with delighted relish. ‘What a life we lead, you and I, eh?’
    ‘I did not choose the
foie gras
, Édouard. Mimi Einsbacher selected it for you.’
    ‘Mimi, eh?’ His eyes rested on mine for a moment. ‘Well … she’s a good judge of food.’
    ‘And other things?’
    ‘Mmm?’
    ‘What else is Mimi good at?’
    My food lay untouched on my plate. I could not eat. I had never liked
foie gras
, anyway, the bitter knowledge of that forced feeding, those geese gorged until their very organs were swollen. The pain that could be caused by too much of what you loved.
    Édouard put his knife on his plate. He looked at me. ‘What is the matter, Sophie?’
    I could not answer him.
    ‘You seem out of sorts.’
    ‘Out of sorts.’
    ‘Is this because of what I told you before? I told you, my darling, it was before I met you. I have never lied to you.’
    ‘And will you lie with her again?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘When you are bored with the novelty of your marriage? Will you revert to your old ways?’
    ‘What is this?’
    ‘Oh, eat your food, Édouard. Devour your beloved
foie gras
.’
    He stared at me for the longest time. When he spoke, his voice was soft. ‘What have I done to deserve this? Have I ever given you the slightest reason to doubt me? Have I ever shown you anything but utter devotion?’
    ‘That is not the point.’
    ‘Well, what is the point?’
    ‘How did you get them to look at you like that?’ My voice lifted.
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Those women. The Mimis and the Laures. The bar girls and the street girls and every wretched girl who seems to pass by our door. How did you get them to pose for you like that? ‘
    Édouard was dumbstruck. When he spoke, his mouth set in an unfamiliar line. ‘The same way I got you to pose for me. I asked them.’
    ‘And afterwards? Did you do to them what you did to me?’
    Édouard looked down at his plate before he answered. ‘If I remember