Dance on the Volcano by Marie Vieux-Chauvet

Author:Marie Vieux-Chauvet
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2017-01-10T05:00:00+00:00

I seem young,

But I’m more than a hundred years old.

I remember that in my youth

A particular fairy, to whom I was too precious,

Gave me a gift – it was the gift of pleasing

Grace, talent, beauty, the art of seducing,

That was my fate…

You see me in my original form

I see myself again at fifteen years old.

“What a voice you have!” said Lapointe, looking at her admiringly.

Roseline and Fleurette came to offer them dinner. Two place settings had been laid in the front room. They sat down and four young male slaves immediately began to flutter around them, anticipating their slightest gestures.

It was a veritable pageant of delicious courses and Minette, remembering Jasmine’s meager meals, enthusiastically consumed the chicken and many desserts. Lapointe poured her a drink and raised his glass to her health. At the end of the meal, the two of them had managed to empty a good bottle of Bordeaux. When Minette wanted to rise from her seat, she stumbled a bit and, laughing, leaned against the table. He put his arm around her and led her outdoors beneath the trees, where the slaves had set up hammocks. She refused to lie down, claiming she had eaten too much.

“You’re not a true Creole, then,” he said to her.

“Yes,” she responded, “but no one’s ever gotten me accustomed to such luxury.”

The young man’s face darkened. He got into a hammock and was immediately joined by Roseline and Fleurette. Kneeling next to him, one began scratching his head, while the other, squatting, hummed and played a mandolin. She sang a lascivious and melancholy song while staring at her master with eyes filled with devotion.

“Minette,” said Jean-Baptiste Lapointe all of a sudden, “allow me not to make any changes to my lifestyle during your time here.”

He rose from the hammock and whistled for his enormous dogs, who immediately ran over.

He turned to his servants:

“Watch over your mistress.”

Before they could even respond, Minette protested.

“Oh, no – you aren’t going to impose these two girls on me. I, for one, do not need slaves.”

“Will you feel safe without your ‘bodyguards’?”

“What do I have to fear?” responded Minette. “Only your dogs scare me.”

“You don’t recognize your fiercest protectors, then.”

“Perhaps, but I prefer to be alone.”

“You should feel perfectly at home here.”

He clapped his hands twice and the two girls left them.

He had changed yet again. Why? said Minette to herself. Now what’s going on inside him? Might as well try to resolve an enigma. He looked at her in silence, in the half-light of the moon. A delightful feeling of trust spread over her, however, and relieved her of all worry. She had not thought for a moment about the Comédie or about Mesplès and her disappointment. A sweet lassitude spread through her limbs. Oh, to spend my life here, she thought. To lounge in a hammock myself – to hear myself called Mistress and deliver myself into the hands of adoring servants I would reign over with kindness! She raised her eyes to Lapointe. He was looking at her silently:

“You are very beautiful,” he simply said.

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