Ironhead, or, Once a Young Lady by Jean-Claude van Rijckeghem

Ironhead, or, Once a Young Lady by Jean-Claude van Rijckeghem

Author:Jean-Claude van Rijckeghem
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Levine Querido


* * *

When we get to Paris, we turn down a dead-end alley with horse stables at the end. We’re greeted by a woman who’s barely five feet tall. She watches us suspiciously from under her hood, smoking a pipe.

“Where’s the old stable master?” asks Mr. Dupin.

“I am the stable master,” the woman says, “Josée is the name.”

He nods.

“Two horses,” he says. “We’re staying over at Widow Delasalle’s.”

He hands her some money. I stand there, staring at the tiny woman. She notices.

“Men die in the war, young man,” Josée says to me. “Which is why I’m the stable master now.”

“Of course,” I mutter.

We leave the horses with her and walk on until we come to a tall, narrow house on Rue des Rosiers. A chair maker works on the ground floor. He displays his creations on the sidewalk every morning to attract buyers. His workshop and the entire stairwell smell of wood, glue, reeds, and rushes. The second floor—the most beautiful floor in the house—is home to a notary, his wife, and their three daughters.

The war widow, Madame Delasalle, lives on the third floor. She is a large woman with black hair piled high on her head. Her face is sharp and angular, but her eyes sparkle with light. A rosary hangs around her neck. When she sees the customs officer, she throws herself into his arms and holds his embrace for at least a minute. Two children peek out from behind her long black skirt. The girl’s name is Dédée and her older brother is Germain. That night, I learn that the widow was married to a captain who was hit on the head by a Russian cannonball at the Battle of Austerlitz. She then married a lieutenant who succumbed to diarrhea on the Prussian campaign before he ever saw an enemy uniform. From her captain and her lieutenant, the widow received two children and two military pensions. Now it appears she has her eye on the customs officer from the north, who’s sitting comfortably at her side.



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