The Reinvention of Love

when I go out in the evenings now. No one gives Antoine a second glance. I can walk the frozen streets with such liberty.
    I know that you are going to Bellevue House on Spring Garden Road for a dance this Saturday night with your regiment. I know this because I heard the soldiers talking outside the garrison. Have no fear, Adèle will not show up to bother you. But Antoine will be there. He can hide in plain sight, simply by being a man. Antoine can wait for you on the steps. Antoine can saunter about outside, wandering from lighted window to lighted window to catch a glimpse of youdancing. Antoine can even venture indoors and ask one of the fine young ladies of Halifax for a dance himself.
    I have never known such liberty!
    I feel such happiness!
    Your beloved (Adèle) Antoine
    Dear François-Victor,
    I am disappointed in you, dear brother. A letter has arrived without a money order. Did you forget to slip it inside?
    Your loving sister, Adèle
    My dear Maman,
    Tonight there is a dance for Albert’s regiment at Bellevue House, one of the fancy houses in Halifax. It is very exciting! We will dine early and take a carriage to the house, even though it is close enough to walk. The streets here are unfit for walking in a ball gown, or for my husband to walk in his polished boots. Sometimes the streets are so muddy and torn up that boards have to placed down over the mess, and even then there are times when the boards are actually afloat in the puddles.
    Nothing will make me happier than to arrive at the dance on my husband’s arm. He is so handsome in his uniform. And his manners are so good. He has such confidence in all he says! I am sure he will be given an officer ranking soon. It is not right that so fine a man be only an ensign. I know this was one of the reasons Papa was opposed to the match, but does Papa not remember the days when he was simply an unpublished poet? Why does Papa take no account of anyone’s ambition but his own?
    You will be pleased to know that I have found a piano to practise on. I intend to keep up with my musical studies.There is a woman who lives nearby, a Mrs Saunders, and she has a decent piano in her parlour that she allows me to use every afternoon, if I wish. I want to get back to my compositions. But one needs a quiet life in order to do any serious composing, and I fear that my life has been too busy of late. I would also like to write a novel. Remember when Papa said he thought I was as strong a writer as he was? Do you think he really meant it?
    Your Dédé
    My darling Albert,
    You did not see me last night, did you? That man who touched the brim of his hat to you as you were crossing the street, that was me.
    I will be at all your dances, my beloved. And now that I am Antoine, I can also go to the taverns where you like to drink with your fellow soldiers when you are off duty. There is no finer calling card to the world’s pleasures than the dress of a man.
    Your beloved Adèle
    Dear François-Victor,
    It is simply not true! I do not know what lies Mrs Saunders is telling you, but you must not believe them. I am married to Albert. It is true that we are not living together at the moment, and that I am living in Mrs Saunders’ boarding house, but I did not want Maman to worry about me. She would worry if she knew that I was in a boarding house and not living in a house of my own. So, I suppose I did lie about that. But the other, greater lies, you must not believe those. I am Albert’s wife, and I do not go about at night dressed as a man. Why would I do that? Ask yourself, brother, why Iwould do something like that when you have never known me to be other than I am?
    Your loving sister, Adèle
    My dear Papa,
    I have not been lying to you. Why do you never believe me?
    Adèle
    Dear François-Victor,
    I am sorry, but if you are not going to believe me, and if you are telling Papa and Maman that I am not being truthful about what my life is like here in Halifax, then I will have to stop writing to you. Consider this your last letter from me until all the fuss dies down. I do not want Maman to come out here in the spring and bring me home. I am a married woman. Maman and Papa no longer have any claim on my liberty.
    Thank you for all you have done for me. It sorrows me to think that you do not trust me to tell you the truth. But I have faced harder things than that, and I will close my heart to you for the time being, brother, just so I can continue without too much suffering.