Chap. 54. Summer of 1858, 2nd part. My novel The Boutique Robillard, my fantic of Gone with the Wind

Saturday, July 17, Magnolias' Mansion, 5 East Battery, Charleston

The four friends pecked greedily at the diced peaches and the strawberries that were soaked in juice.

"Hmm... This reminds me of the fruit orgies we used to have at Soft South. When our rapines were uncovered by our gardener, we would put on a contrite face, only to do it all over again the next day."

"Your aptly chosen word, my dear Duncan, brings to mind others through our very particular way of exploring French literature in our den." With a wry chuckle, he poked his friend for a reaction, "During those four years, you had certainly been the most diligent student."

"The student?" Gladys almost choked up. "Duncan was our teacher, our stage director, and our music conductor all at once!"

"Not to mention his first paths as head costume designer," Rebecca added, giving him a charming smile.

The latter pretended to moderate his merits: "We were so young when it all started in '55. We were all three 16 years old, and Rebecca was 14.

"You are forgetting the other three. Bert was 19 and the youngest 12. Yet she was your most fervent pupil."

Duncan shook his head from side to side, "Twelve and a half. She was more than a pupil because, despite her young age, she had such a thirst for the culture that we moved forward together in learning the classic texts, researching the material, and developing the play. Fortunately, the Smiths' library was full of bilingual versions! But she was the one who translated the more complex terms for us."

Rebecca sighed in exasperation.

"Hats off to the respectable Mr. Vayton for having the idea of qualifying our past playful experiments into rebarbative teaching of French writers! Dare I suggest that, for the three young men, including you, it was an unexpected opportunity to do a little courting - as they used to say so elegantly in the Middle Ages - to the fresh and innocent young ladies who made up our group?" He made an inciting movement of the head: " After all this time, you can admit it, even in front of Gladys and Rebecca: your initiative, for the precocious seducer that you were at sixteen years old, had other ulterior motives, those to initiate the four very young girls of your audience to love!" Hilarious he concludes: "We will be forever grateful to you!" 

Uncomfortable with this unveiled truth, Duncan felt compelled to provide some context: "You are exaggerating! In the first year, it made sense to address the mastery of the refined codes of behavior reserved for the cultural elite of the Middle Ages. That elite whose descendants we are on another continent."

"What a delight we had singing the poems of the troubadours! Rebecca, do you remember how many times we rehearsed to work on our piano and flute playing as a duo?"

"Surprisingly, I confess, we agreed perfectly - allow me to rectify, Gladys: correctly is more accurate -, to harmonize our interpretations."

 "Every summer we turned the winter garden into a music conservatory. My parents were amazed when I made the request to move our grand piano there during the two-month vacation." Duncan paused, a wicked little smile on his face, "Actually, they were delighted that their son had the ambition to foster the musical talents of the children of the four Stono River plantations. My father in particular, felt that my initiative would bring even more magic to 'his dancing girl'" as he called his highly expensive botanic haven.’

"I seem to remember that you had a hard time borrowing the harp from the Smiths. How did you manage to convince them?"

Louis Léopold Boilly, d’après Marie Antoinette et le Comte Fersen

"Thanks to my charm, Becca!" He knew his teasing face would melt her. "More realistically, by insisting that our musical sessions would motivate Lorraine to play that precious instrument that had cost them a fortune. The poor thing could never get the strings to pluck properly. Not enough dexterity in her fingers," he concludes.

The opportunity was too good to pass up, "Um... If I remember correctly, her dexterity in using her hands for other purposes was... talented..."

For once, both young women agreed to express a pout of contempt.

Taken aback by his accomplice's saucy allusion, Duncan found it hard not to laugh, as he did. But that would have been in poor taste in front of the ladies present.

"That is how Lydwine's harp came to sit in the middle of the dome, under the cupola." He stopped abruptly. It was as if his zest for recalling the circumstances of the musical instruments' appearance had been struck with a "blank," cutting short his thought, the moment he had let the name slip.

Gladys took the opportunity to resume her train of thought: "If I had to choose a symbol to describe this heavenly place, I would choose the magical minutes of the summer of '55 when you, Duncan, sang with your velvet voice the 'fin'amor,' the pure love, as it was called in the twelfth century, accompanied on the harp by Lydwine. (*1) The enchanting harmony she managed to extract from the strings was only disturbed by the cooing of a pair of turtle doves that had taken up residence under the roof. It was... "

Tristan and Isolde - XVth century's illumination.

She turned to him so that he too might share her retrospective wonder, but he had lowered his head. In the silence of the music room, he could be heard swallowing hard.   

"You have become inexhaustible on the virtues of chivalrous love, so much so that it was a little too romantic for my taste. But I must admit that your strategy paid off - for I am still convinced, knowing you, that it was a strategy to introduce our four young and innocent damsels to the feelings of love. And, all things considered, Bert and I have benefited..." A naughty wink accompanied the heavy undertone. 

"As expected, by declaiming verses emphatically to them, they became blissfully in awe of your oratorical talent. In fact, let's be frank, they fell under the spell of your blue eyes. Already! And this was only the beginning of the web of seduction that you keep weaving on the female gender. It is hopeless! Even my little sister imagined you as a beautiful knight in shining armor with your blonde hair. I hope you included me in that fantasy, didn’t you Rebecca?"

This one generously conceded, "To put you in agreement, let us say you were three dashing knights."

Duncan nearly choked, "Bert a knight? How could he evoke the code of honor? A serf, at most and of the lowest essence."

"You are exaggerating! He was the one who was entitled to claim the title. More so than you two, since his family has belonged to the French nobility since the year 1100 according to his genealogical tree."

Stubbornly, Duncan stuck to his critique: "A title of nobility does not bequeath nobility of heart."

John decided to come to his sister's rescue: "In any case, your mutual dislike of each other was immediate, from the first hour he came in 55. So... Let us close the “Bert ”subject temporarily, if you do not mind. To return to our medieval epic, after three weeks - fortunately for me - you gave up your lessons on chaste love, "love from afar" and this crazy idea that the troubadours had of postponing and putting off the moment of carnal embrace. At least, with the first play you staged, the lovers go through with the act. This allowed us boys to tackle a more... exciting subject."  

"It was about Tristan and Isolde." Gladys plunged back into the story, even though the subject matter made her shudder: "A very young girl is promised to a notable, who instructs his nephew to fetch her to marry him. Tristan immediately falls in love with Isolde, and both succumb to their adulterous passion."

"I was insanely jealous of the ornament you sewed for Isolde. It looked like a real medieval princess dress!"

Duncan stared straight ahead, looking as if he saw a ghostly figure evolve. "Lydwine had done some research on the iconography of her in the illuminations. As she did for the other roles. She did the same for all three of the other plays we did together. She suggested them to me, and I adapted them according to their feasibility. Because, needless to say, the raw materials at our disposal were rudimentary. Each of us was obliged to finesse to get meters of fabric and lace, thread and needles in the reserves of the family laundries." 

"On the other hand, your decorating skills were not put to use; to say the least. You made do with a few draperies laid against the glass walls of the rotunda, and the couch!"

Rebecca let out a critical cluck of her tongue: "It was not a simple sofa, but a broken duchess Louis XVI. How rustic you can be sometimes, dear Brother!"

This one teased her by smoothing some folds of her skirt: "To have a rustic side can be quite pleasant in certain situations..."

"I remember that there was a lot of discussion about the casting. Lydwine was a natural choice, but as for the two male roles... We four girls - and John too - thought it was only natural that you should play Tristan. But Bert did not think so at all.”

John took over from Gladys: "We had to witness again the usual argument between you and the Frenchman. To sum up your behavior, you were two rabid dogs. When Lydwine finally convinced him that it was logical for you to play the character, he said, "Then I am entitled to play the role of the one who has been promised his lady", or something similar. His "right" was of course out of nowhere, but we were getting used to the Smith's friend's pretension."   

"The atmosphere was hateful during rehearsals whenever you both had to be on stage!" Ever the pragmatist, Rebecca could only remember the brutality of the facts.

"What a tragic ending! As usual, you are going to think I am overly emotional, but that was the first time I cried in empathy with a character in a novel. Besides, Lorraine and you too, Rebecca, were moved, you cannot deny it. And you, John, the gray of your eyes was filled with fog..." She blushed as she met his gaze. "I see the scene again, as if it were yesterday: Tristan -you-, dying on the daybed. Isolde comes to say her last farewell to you. To save her from suicide, you embrace her passionately until her heart bursts so that she accompanies you in death. My God! How heartbreaking it was to watch you both!  You had invested so much in the souls of the two heroes, that you sobbed your hearts out. We had to force Bert to leave the conservatory with us on some false pretext so that you could console Lydwine. She was probably too young to bear such emotion..."

The death of Tristan and Isolde - 15th century illumination.

He made no comment, but reached for the champagne bucket he had thoughtfully placed on the floor. He tried to pour a glass for himself and John, but spilled half the liquid on the precious Oriental rug. His friend came to his rescue: "Let me do it, you are shaking..."

ooooOOoooo

Rebecca was caught up in the memory game, too: "In '56, new drama. If I think about it, you selected stories that ended badly three summers in a row. Good thing you were more optimistic the last year..."

"Yes,"-agreed Gladys-"it was Camille, The Lady with the Camellias. Lydwine had brought her copy back from France." (*2)

"Camille" or The Lady with the Camellias, from Alexandre Dumas fils, etching from Louis Icart, 1938 edition.

"What interested us boys much more was that the beautiful Marguerite was a courtesan who frequented the places of debauchery of the wild Parisian nights. Hmm... That opened up some... perspectives and a lot of fantasies, ha ha!" 

"Camille" or The Lady with the Camellias, from Alexandre Dumas fils, etching from Louis Icart

"To punish you for your saucy thoughts, Duncan has disguised you as an old bourgeois, Armand's wicked father. Armand - you, Duncan - Marguerite's only love, for whom she will sacrifice everything, her freedom, her wealth and her love, falling for the father's scheme. Ah, men..." Rebecca's conclusion seemed rather inadequate to the three friends, for she had not had any complaints about men, except for her former husband.

"Once again, your budding wardrobe master’s skills have worked wonders in dressing us in flirty gowns - except for you, Gladys, for whom Duncan had reserved an outfit more in keeping with your modesty..." Rebecca restrained herself from accompanying her petty comment with a snicker.

"But our director still showed a total lack of imagination for the stage set, which consisted of only one thing: the famously broken duchess. She was in turn the witness of the gallant love, and the less amusing one of the agony. I also remember another amusing anecdote: the essential accessory to the bustier of your courtesan was the camellia: she wore a white one when she was available to receive her lovers, a red one when... she could not. Anyway, in the thirty meters long jungle where we were, invaded by all kinds of tropical plants and multicolored flowers, we had to organize a real treasure hunt in order to find these famous flowers. I think you explained to us that your father did not like camellias because they are difficult to grow. Anyway, I do not remember the reason. Some of the seeds must have been mixed with other species, so when Lydwine discovered the one flowering plant, she burst in tears. How ridiculous..."

"Rebecca!" Duncan's reproach burst forth, as brutal as a whip.

Immediately, this one remained silent, impressed by the icy tone.

Only Gladys dared to take up the conversation: "What emotion seized us at the end of the play when Marguerite, ruined and abandoned by all, is dying of tuberculosis, lying on the daybed! Lydwine embodied her with such depth that she felt the pain in her flesh. Once again, she made us cry. I have never seen you so moved, Duncan, except for your 'joint death' the year before."

ooooOOoooo

"Camille" or The Lady with the Camellias, from Alexandre Dumas fils, etching from Louis Icart

"This Lady of the Camellias had made such an impression on both of you that Lydwine went out of her way to convince her father to chaperone us - well, 'you' chaperone - to go see the adaptation of the novel into an opera the following year. An unforgettable memory, even for me, so difficult to impress!”

"The Italian composer Guiseppe Verdi had changed the name of the characters, and called it La Traviata, the fallen woman. In 57, it was only the second time that the opera was performed on our continent! (*3) What an unforgettable memory! The songs, the emotion... " Gladys' eyes sparkled with joy.

La Traviata, from Guiseppe Verdi : first play on March 6th 1853, at the Fenice of Venezia.

Partition first edition William Hall & Son, New York 1857, William Vincent Wallace, Fantasie brillante sur l'opera de Verdi, La traviata (source International Music Score Library Project)

It took a crew of three carriages and six horses-two of them belonging to your Soft South, to carry us to Charleston, for there were quite a number of us! Mrs. Vayton, the mothers of the two cousins and ours, Lydwine's father..."

Gladys took the liberty of interrupting him: "The man in charge of protecting the ladies against all dangers. It is sad that my mother did not want to accompany us. She felt that the show would not be to her liking. I had to beg her to convince her that it was a very respectable classical opera. Thanks to Mrs. Vayton's insistence and reassuring presence, she agreed to let me join you."

"It was our pleasure, Glad. So, with the seven of us, and the three drivers, we went out with fifteen! What a noisy outing!"

Duncan took over their memories: "It was July 5, ‘57.  A Friday. There had been a thunderstorm a few hours earlier, and the downpour had released the scents of the earth. All along the way, the aphrodisiacal scents of magnolias that lined the road, mixed with the smells of the soaked leaves of the bayous we were driving along, permeated our clothes so strongly."

"All the more aphrodisiac as Rebecca, me, you and your "pupil" had the chance to occupy a car by ourselves. On the way, there and on the way back. Those who were with our parents were less fortunate!" John burst out laughing.

Duncan continued to dream: "It was a long drive. Sometimes we stopped talking, just to enjoy the sounds around us, the cracking of branches, the flight of a night bird, or the cry of an owl in the distance. The storm had chased away the clouds, and the sky was sparkling with a cloud of stars so full that I have not seen any alike since. We even caught a glimpse of shooting stars." 

Duncan Vayton and Lydwine (French actor Michel le Royer, in TV film Le Chevalier de la Maison Rouge 1963

"Um... I do not remember that. Are you sure you had your eyes fixed on the sky at that moment?"  John was amused to see him show such candor at his age.

"Oh what a bucolic description!" Gladys was spellbound.

"When we arrived at the Charleston House of the Arts, I was more than impressed. All the chandeliers and gilding... It was like the Palace of Versailles as you described it to us. Those magnificent outfits made my head spin... Although my dress was particularly elaborate. Wasn't it, John?"

He found it hard not to laugh. His sister had such a thirst to be sure to shine more than the others! However, that was another reason for loving her. Therefore, he indulged her need for flattery: "The silver pearls decorating the bustier of your crinoline dress shone brighter than the assembled audience."

"Marietta Gazzanica, the singer who played Violetta performed with such truth that when she gradually died of phthisis, we cried our eyes out... For the third time in three years, to our great shame."

John rectified: "Let me point out, Gladys, that you girls had your handkerchiefs out. Then he gave a glance to his friend to tease him: "And you, as a gallant gentleman, you offered her yours to wipe her beautiful eyes..."

He remained stoic: "It was the most beautiful evening at the opera I have ever attended."

Opera La Traviata from Guiseppe Verdi, in Broadway, New York.

"That led to the most prestigious of your summer productions: the staging of La Traviata in our winter garden."

Duncan sighed, "Unfortunately, I had to scale back my ambitions. So we both worked to select the essential scenes so that the story would be intelligible but more concise."

"What an ingenious idea to have replaced Violetta's crowd of guests with silhouettes painted in grisaille on wooden panels."

"She was the one who suggested it to me. And to add to the perspective, she even thought of graduating the shades. How could she, so young, already have an innate artistic sense?"

John and Rebecca looked at each other with a sigh, disarmed by this "deja-seen" or "deja-heard".

"I am still amazed by the sumptuousness of the ceremonial clothes you created that year. The flame of the Haute Couture artist that you became was already smoldering - no! was already exploding inside you!"

"Everyone was put to work sewing the clothes. Mr. Vayton bought the most beautiful fabrics for us. And we, the four girls, sewed, assembled and embroidered the patterns, even at night after we got home. But we would not have been able to accomplish this mammoth task of sewing without the help of our four Mammies and the Soft South linen maid."

"Fortunately, you have been fair in the distribution of the roles, so that everyone can play in turn with the functions of actor, singer or musician. Thus you, John and Bert, alternated the role of Alfredo - in fact, the famous Armand of the novel - with that of his father. On the other hand, only two of us, Lydwine and I, had the vocal chords of a soprano to play Violetta. And both of us were allowed to wear the precious and rare camellia on our bodices."

"You were both enchanting," Duncan reassured generously. "As for you, my dear Gladys, what would we have done without your virtuosity as a pianist?"  

"Thank you, Duncan. Do not forget the harp and the violin, which also, depending on the availability of the actors, allowed our modest orchestra to accompany you."

"How proud we all were when the masters of the four estates came to Soft South's reception hall with great fanfare! The piano and harp had to be moved temporarily for the occasion. It was well worth it, as our only official performance of La Traviata was enthusiastically applauded."

ooooOOoooo

John chuckled: "We did not dare suggest that they attend the staging of the literary work that closed 1858. Its title alone, 'Les Liaisons Dangereuses,' Dangerous Liaisons, was an appetizing program. Written by a Frenchman with an unpronounceable name."

Dangerous Liaisons, from Choderlos de Laclos, illustrated by George Barbier

"Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, a novel from the end of the last century," Duncan recalled with impeccable pronunciation. 

"Yes, it consisted of a series of letters exchanged between two nobles. But our play did not lead to a result. A few readings of the text, and that was it, in favor of other activities. As I recall, our meetings in '58 were rare. I do not remember why, but we only saw each other once a week."

Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice the complicit look exchanged between her friends.

Finally, John cleared his throat and spoke: "Actually, we did perform the Dangerous Liaisons, and as often as we could. I might as well tell you now, Gladys. There were two versions of the script: the draft you witnessed... and another."

As she stared at him in disbelief, he was even more embarrassed. He glanced at Duncan for help. The latter nodded. Then he mustered up the courage to say, "Some afternoons during the week, we would announce that one or the other of us had been held up by an obligation, so our regular daily appointment had to be rescheduled. In fact, to our shame, it was to get you away on those days. In your absence, the six of us got together and our special performances of Dangerous Liaisons began."

Gladys felt as if her heart was breaking. Had they all lied to her? Had John lied to her? Her certainties crumbled at her feet.

"Before jumping to conclusions, let me explain the context, my Glad. The script you read had been redacted beforehand, because Dangerous Liaisons is set in a world that is, admittedly, unethical. You knew the five main characters, and you knew that the story was going to end tragically with the despair and the entry into the convent of Madame de Tourvel, the young woman, dignified and pious, the death of the Vicomte de Valmont, followed immediately by her own death. You know the character of Cécile Volanges, a young 15-year-old cousin straight out of the convent.

Dangerous Liaisons, from Choderlos de Laclos, illustrated by George Barbier

But, without going into details, let us say that the real plot - the one on the second script hidden from your eyes - was based on the perverse links between Valmont and the Marquise. A cruel game whose objective was to debauch the two poor victims, steal the virginity of one, and pervert the other, with the ultimate reward for Valmont, that the Marquise ends up in his bed. We knew very well that you would have been terribly embarrassed to participate in such a spectacle."

Dangerous Liaisons, from Choderlos de Laclos, illustrated by George Barbier

Duncan came to his rescue and took responsibility for their joint decision: "So I came up with the idea of presenting two texts, the one where I had censored the explicit scenes for you. And the other version, the one that occupied us all summer when you were not there, would have shocked you unnecessarily. But, paradoxically, the respect of the story and its dramaturgy were quickly abandoned, to keep only the sulfurous characters. We did not even bother to learn our dialogues. We preferred to let our imaginations run wild and... experiment with some of the liberties of the mores described by the author."

Dangerous Liaisons, from Choderlos de Laclos, illustrated by George Barbier

Reassured by the "director's" credible explanation, John concluded: "That's why it was not possible to impose such a... moral release on you. We did not want to shock your respectable modesty, which is an integral part of your personality. The one we loved, and continue to love. Rebecca, Duncan and I humbly beg your forgiveness for the secrecy. Don't we, Rebecca?"

She gave a vague, "It was for your own good, Gladys.” Duncan, as embarrassed as his friend, apologized flatly.

"Please, my Glad, forgive us."

She was silent. She should have felt betrayed for being left out by her friends and because they had lied to her. But she knew for a fact that they had done the right thing. Her upbringing and deep moral standards would have been repulsed to participate in a licentious subject. Her friends of the same age had the urge to romp around freely. That was fine. They had accepted her without restriction into their cocoon since early childhood. Duncan and John had been her most attentive protectors. Even Rebecca had been, for a short time, a pleasant playmate.

In this moment, the look of the two men on her was not that of two 37 years old males, full of assurance and sure of their power. They were back to the young boys just out of adolescence, still beset by doubt, with the touching awkwardness of their twenty years. In their eyes burned the candor of their youth. Their smile, the one they reserved for her, she knew it, was full of brotherly sweetness. 

Bravely, she decided to end the awkward silence of both men. "No, I understand. I am touched that you wanted to protect me. But it was unnecessary. We have known each other since childhood, and I had seen you grow up faster than I had. I understand that you were old enough to explore different paths of love. Even if I was not ready for it. You are my friends for eternity. Whatever may have happened."  

Their sigh of relief was not feigned. At last they could speak frankly!

"It all started with Bert who was very helpful with this 'literary study'..."

Bert..." Duncan nearly choked. “He could barely read in a drone the title of a book, so ignorant was he. His only qualification was that he found the hiding place where the proscribed book was concealed in the English version, on the last shelf of the Smith library."

"Yet, it seems to me that you and your "student" have well exploited the inexhaustible mine of random books on their shelves, during your "literary research".

When Duncan did not pick up on the implication, he continued, "Ah, the days of chaste and chivalrous love were long gone! This novel, of which you knew the brimstone that surrounded it, was for us, let us confess it, the one of all initiations."

 "John, do not go into details! Gladys is not supposed to hear..."

Rebecca snarled, "Oh, your hypocrisy in the face of your protégé infuriates me!"  She turned to her and called her out abruptly: "Petyr certainly did not spare your 'excessive modesty' as a great Southern Lady. Be honest for once: you knew something was up in the summer of '58. We had all the trouble in the world to pretend to be strictly friendly with each other. If you had not been so puritanical, we would not have had to think up such a scheme."

Gladys had turned scarlet. She did not even blame Rebecca, because she was right. "John and Duncan, speak freely, and tell me what happened. I promise I will not be offended - and I will not faint.” She added the last sentence with a soft laugh, to show them that they could trust her.

"We can finally tell you that the staging of the Dangerous Liaisons was not as theatrical as the previous year. No sets to be made and installed..."

"Yes, I had procured, in our foreman's lean-to, a whole supply of candles. They were of the most beautiful effect under the dome."

"How disturbing it was for the three of us to admire your pearly skin - Duncan having incidentally cleared the cleavage of your bodices, - in the trembling flame of the candles..."

Dangerous Liaisons, from Choderlos de Laclos, illustrated by George Barbier

"The conservatory was the wildest setting one could have dreamed of. The few streaks of light piercing through the broken slats of the clerestory shutters created gigantic and menacing shadow effects behind the curved bays around the rotunda. We imagined ourselves in the middle of a wild jungle from which dangerous beasts would emerge..."

"It is rare that you let such romantic lyricism shine through, Becca!"

She laughed heartily, "Because I was interested in the 'subject'."

"Once again, the broken duchess played a leading role, surrounded by the rattan seats. But this time it was not just reserved for the 'master' and his 'student'. We took turns enjoying it!"

Gladys had to force herself to keep a neutral air. She had told them that she could hear everything about that period of their youth, but still... what was said in the privacy of the music room was shocking, even more so when it was John who revealed the secrets that had been kept from her...

"On the other hand, the costumes required a lot of work because I wanted to get as close as possible to 1750’s French fashion."

"As usual, you called in your favorite documentarian for this..."

Duncan's smile blossomed. "Yes, she was perfect."

We faced extra work since you were not there and we could no longer ask for help from our Mammies who would have been slightly scandalized by the plunging necklines of the corsages."

"This explains why, even Bert and I, following Duncan's lead, threaded the needle and assembled the fabric patterns cut by our budding tailor. What a phenomenal job we did, both for the men's and women's costumes. I have to tell you, Glad, that the seams were rough, to say the least. But it did not matter to us. We made even more illusion, thanks to the wigs made with hemp wool stolen from one or the other of the workshops of the domains. Sprinkled with perfumed talcum powder, embellished with Rebecca's and the cousins' ribbons, they gave the final touch to the aesthetic re-enactment of the last century's libertine nobility and royal gallant parties."

Duncan (Michel Le Royer 1961, La Fayette movie from Jean Dréville)

Duncan closed his eyes, "The rounded bodices were adorned with a selection of the most blooming flowers in the greenhouse. The petals, upon contact with the girls' tender, warm skin, exhaled a heady aroma. Not as heady, however, as the taste of their skin..."

"I remember it. Bert and John were competing to give Lorraine and I the most aromatic flower of the day. You had the extravagance to judge that only the camellia was worthy to adorn Lydwine's bustier. The one you were picking for her, of course... I hope you will not take offense, you had become a bit obsessive about it."

He replied in a low voice, as if to himself: "My anguish was that we would not find one on the day of our performances. It was frustrating to see the greenhouse invaded by every imaginable plant species, except the one from China that symbolizes desire, elegance and perfection. The whole portrait of... So, the day Lydwine cried when she discovered this miserable plant, I promised myself that later this flower would become the queen of the dome of the Winter Garden...."

Gladys listened attentively to what they were saying, but she was aware that this reenactment of Dangerous Liaisons that she had missed was not really meant for her. Her three friends were intensely reliving the summer of '58, amazed by the beauty of their visions.

"We had fun dividing up the roles of the libertines - or executioners - and their victims. Only the age of Cecile, with her virginal innocence, was in line with that of Lydwine, 15 years old. My God! How young she was!" He interrupted himself abruptly, plunged in his thoughts, but at once recovered. "I also asked her to play the 22-year-old Madame de Tourvel, the one Valmont had fallen in love with without admitting it, alternating with Lorraine. Whatever she played, she was sublime. As for the male characters, all three of us could legitimately claim the role of Valmont, so hypnotic as a debauchee. We had to agree, after much discussion, to take turns playing him. But..." Duncan looked into the gray eyes, "Becca, you were the one and only Marquise de Merteuil.

Duncan Vayton (Michel Le Royer and Rosanna Schiaffino 1961 from movie of Jean Dréville, La Fayette)

Rebecca laughed heartily: "I could take offense at that, since it says she is a woman with a virtuous reputation, but this real pervert is up the worst Machiavellian lewdness with her lover's connivance. But...” - staring at Duncan and her brother in turn, and fluttering her eyelashes with the confidence of a great seductress – “there was something exhilarating about this novelistic portrait that seduced me."

She was pleased with their reactions: Duncan gave her that smirk that gave her the chills. And John's "Oh, Rebecca!" said it all.

“I had warned the gardener to stay away from the conservatory all summer afternoons. But I dare not imagine the scandal if my father or his foreman had happened to pass by and caught us..."

"If I dared, I would say that putting on our disguises of the libertine nobility was the perfect alibi to disinhibit us and allow us all the audacities. Since we were magically transported to another place and another time, we no longer felt subject to the same rules, especially not to the moralizing contingencies of our social class! What an exhilaration it was to find the most shaded corners of our heavenly landmark! Two by two… With only one idea in mind, the initiation to pleasures of all kinds. Hum... The looks were longing, the hands were wandering, the fingers were roaming... Sometimes, I wonder. Did we dream? We were so lucky to enjoy such freedom hidden from everyone!"  

Gladys did not know how to hide her confusion. Hearing John talk about such things.... The beating of her heart went wild. Lurking in the back of her mind, padlocked by thirty-seven years of Puritan upbringing, the shadow of a subversive thought sprang up: What if I had actually participated in the "performances" of these dangerous liaisons, would John have dragged me into these shady corners? My goodness! I should be ashamed of myself! She took a big sip of tea that had gone lukewarm to try to lower the temperature of her boiling blood. So many regrets...

Duncan was no longer at Magnolias Mansion. His mind was on the banks of the Stono River: "It is strange... but I never again felt, after our last summer, such an exaltation of the senses, visual, olfactory, gustatory, or tactile..."

"Ha ha! Especially tactile," John cut him off with a laugh.

"Yes. I must admit that this last sense was particularly sharp." He heaved a melancholy-laden sigh: “I can hear the chirping of the birds who were revolted that their refuge was invaded by young people as wild as themselves... Our whispered words, your soft moans, our bursts of laughter... I remember the chromatic round of colors of yellow jasmine, wild indigo, rain lily, Charleston hazel rose, crested iris, or coral honeysuckle... It was a spectacle far more dazzling than the fireworks of the 4th of July. Oh to breathe in once more - one last time - the fruity, spicy, peppery fragrances mingling with the aphrodisiac scent of this blooming maiden..."

Soft South Plantation's Winter garden. (inspired -after transformations- by a XIXth century project of French conservatory in Nantes)

"What a romantic poet, Duncan! Instead of the Prince of Fashion, you should simply be inducted as the Prince of Arts!"

But the latter did not hear Rebecca's compliment.

"Probably you had noticed that we often slip away from the glass palace. Not to go far, but to the oasis of Soft South.  In the shade of the Carolina palm forest, planted by my father in an arc so that their broad, fan-shaped leaves intertwined... Quite a symbol... It was magical! One day, she had an irrepressible laugh - which carried me away too, comparing the heavy, endless clusters of white petals covering the treetops to our extravagant powdered wigs. They were our celebratory garlands of summer, of our carefreeness, our happiness, our..." He paused, clearly too moved to continue.

Dangerous Liaisons, from Choderlos de Laclos, illustrated by George Barbier

Carolina Sabal Palmetto

"What a romantic poet, Duncan! Instead of the Prince of Fashion, you should simply be inducted as the Prince of Arts!"

But the latter did not hear Rebecca's compliment.

"Probably you had noticed that we often slip away from the glass palace. Not to go far, but to the oasis of Soft South.  In the shade of the Carolina palm forest, planted by my father in an arc so that their broad, fan-shaped leaves intertwined... Quite a symbol... It was magical! One day, she had an irrepressible laugh - which carried me away too, comparing the heavy, endless clusters of white petals covering the treetops to our extravagant powdered wigs. They were our celebratory garlands of summer, of our carefreeness, our happiness, our..." He paused, clearly too moved to continue.

Then John, carried away by the same spell of memory, took over: “Ah, this famous winter garden, a damn good invention of your father! With the wild atmosphere of its tropical vegetation, in contrast with the preciousness of our costumes and our wigs, it was enough to make us lose our heads! To protect ourselves from the sun - and incidentally to protect our... intimacy - we left the high shutters closed. Logically, the ambient temperature was softened, but we were consumed by another fire... Only the pipe system invented by your father to project fine particles of water intermittently was able to cool the vapors of all kinds that assailed us."

His sister agreed: "That cloud of droplets on our burning skin was the height of luxury in the middle of that hot summer. We had goosebumps, but it was a delight.” The physical pleasure felt had become so vivid again that Rebecca stretched languidly on the meridian.

"They had an effect on us, the men, um...titillating, because, you know it well, Rebecca, that they accentuated the transparency of the three of your chiffon bustiers and petticoats. I particularly remember Lydwine's organdy bodice. The cloud of rain pearls on the diaphanous satin that draped the gorgeous girl had the effect of a magic wand absorbing the fine drapery... Her little rosebuds were showing through under the fine lace... Oh... I still get chills!"

Dangerous Liaisons, Les Liaisons Dangerous, film de Stepen Frears 1988, avec John Malkovich, Michelle Pfeiffer, Glenn Close,

Duncan stood up sharply and cut him off, "John! Don’t you dare do that again!"

The latter carelessly swept away the reproach: "You still get offended after all this time? However, water has flowed under the bridge..."

The master of the house clenched his fists, "I forbid you to talk about her in that trivial way, or it will end worse than the last time!"

The two women looked at each other, amazed by the aggressiveness that had appeared from nowhere in their host who, the moment before, was poetically describing the flowers.

Rebecca's brother finally realized that the atmosphere could really get bad; because there was no doubt that the subject was still sensitive. He knew of the violent outbursts the Vayton heir had indulged in the past. He had even been a victim once. He looked like a child caught in the act and sought his gaze: "I have had too much to drink tonight, and I am talking nonsense. Please excuse me, my friend."

Duncan pursed his lips, then, with an evasive hand gesture, signaled that the unfortunate phrase was over.

Then John resumed his train of thought, ignoring the fact that they had come within a hair's breadth of fighting a duel. "After our wanderings in the greenhouse, we would then find ourselves under the dome, by candlelight alone, lying on the marble at the foot of the girls." To accentuate his words, he leaned his head back a little more to caress the silk of her skirt.

“Unfortunately for Lorraine and me, the rattan chairs were horribly uncomfortable. Because you had overstepped your power as director to reserve the broken duchess for Lydwine. Just like the previous three years, by the way.”

"It was natural since she was the youngest...."

Louis XVI style armchair broken Duchess

"Fine…" Rebecca's lack of conviction was glaring. "Hmm... The fruit we raved about in the plantation kitchens left me with a lasting memory, so pure a treat was it. I must admit that their flavor was amplified by the fact that your fingers were feeding our lips with strawberries and raspberries."

"It was only natural to feed you this way because you were our three birds of paradise. However, you are forgetting the main thing. It was on this occasion that Bert actually had a use. For it was he who stole a few bottles from the special reserve stored in the Smith cellar."

"Certainly, but I have been very careful that you, young ladies, limit your tasting to dipping your pretty lips into the glass. With what boastfulness of young roosters we taught you to swirl it with your tongue to line your taste buds, in order to fully enjoy the pleasures of the wine god Bacchus! But never! Oh never! I would have accepted that the three of you could drink more than half a glass of this divine beverage, because you were so young! The little zinc-walled cooler wisely kept your lemonade and pressed apple juice cool. While the three of us... Um..."

"Bert let himself get drunk more than once. Duncan and I were cautious to stay simply perky. For, as responsible gentlemen as we both were," said Duncan, "we had an obligation to control our behavior toward you young ladies - Up to a point, if I am honest." He burst out laughing, quickly calmed by a reproachful pat on the head. "The two cousins are not here to testify to that. Fortunately, neither is Bert. As for his behavior... I do not expect you to reveal it to us, Rebecca... Though I have a vague idea..." There was a sudden hint of sourness, but he immediately masked it.

"Let’s admit it: during the summer of '58, we lived life to the fullest. You and I were like two wild puppies, eager to run to the adventure and to strip the innocence. All the better to corrupt it - tenderly. Let us be indebted to Dangerous Liaisons, because they allowed us to put into practice our etymological study of the terms "libertinage" and "dévergondage".

“Our secret lair offered us providential freedom, a true and unhoped-for initiatory passage! I am convinced that it forged our independence of spirit in the face of the codified life that awaited us, and to which we give the appearance today of conforming."

"This was our last French summer. Anyway, you left for France the following year. To return two years later, by the first boat in April '61, at the first hostilities at Fort Sumter, fighting brilliantly at the head of your battalion. How handsome you were, Duncan, in your beautiful gray suit with those gold buttons that glistened with the same brilliance as your hair!"

"And your brother, wasn't he attractive too?"

"Yes - she conceded frankly. - Besides, you know I had kept near me the pastel our mother had done of you in your dashing Confederate soldier's uniform."

"The one that hangs right across from your bed."

Duncan was amused, as always, by the innuendos between the brother and his sister, "Sometimes, at nightfall, don't you long for our golden summers, saturated with laughter, sunshine, and freedom?"

"You forgot: " and sensuality."

"Of sensuality especially."

ooooOOoooo

Duncan stood up abruptly. He excused himself to leave them alone for a few minutes and walked through the archway to the stairs.

He came back up three minutes later, proudly displaying a bottle.

"Our meeting is a chance to drink it in. It is the second to last. After that, there will be no more. The end of tasting this special reserve. The end of an era."

Like an old conspirator, he placed it under his friend's nose.

John swept the dust that covered it with his index finger. Incredulous, he widened his eyes as he read the label, "Did you bring it back from there?"

"Yes. Along with other vintages repatriated when I returned from France in January of last year. In particular, there is an excellent 1870 Chateau Lafite Rothschild that my dear neighbor, Rhett Butler, found very much to his liking." There was a break in intonation as he uttered the cursed name, as if the hatred he felt for it was driving out the good vibes of the evening.

Gladys surprised them by announcing, "Just so happens, I am a guest of the Butlers tomorrow afternoon."

Duncan felt as if his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets with shock. Gladys, his faithful Gladys, going to his worst enemy?

"I only have one piece of advice for you. Watch yourself. That man is as poisonous as a snake."

It was her turn to be surprised and to wrinkle her forehead: "I am confused... He seemed charming to me at the party at Rebecca and John's. And so cultured! His initiative to open a museum in Charleston will revolutionize the cultural life of our city. Over dinner, I talked with him about my very modest lectures on South Carolina architecture. He expressed interest in the subject, planning to eventually include it in a temporary exhibit. Wouldn't that be fantastic?"

Duncan pressed his lips together. How did this usurper charm every woman he met? It is a good thing Scarlett is not under his grip...

"If he insisted on having an interview with you - even if the architecture alibi is plausible – it is because he is hiding some other agenda. I have gotten to know him. I know that with your natural goodness, you endow everyone with the purest of qualities. But believe me, Rhett Butler does not deserve your kindness. He is only acting out of self-interest - his own. Which is, as you must know, to fight me in order to get closer to Scarlett, whom he has hurt so badly. I know what an upright young woman you are, faithful to our unbreakable friendship. So do not blame me if I dare to warn you: he will try to get to me through you, scheming to get your information that could possibly harm my deep friendship with his former wife. Be careful, because the smallest detail will be exploited by this scheming expert without you realizing its impact."

Gladys was stunned. Could Duncan be right? Yet she remembered the man who had been a perfect gentleman, whose erudition and kindness had charmed her. Could his soul be as black as Duncan described? Even if he was wrong, she would stand by his warning, for the bond between the three friends - she unabashedly excluded Rebecca from the core - superseded any other consideration, and any other person. 

"Have no fear of the sort, Dear Duncan. I thank you for your advice of caution, which I shall follow to the letter."

Duncan took a breath. Whatever Rhett is plotting, Gladys will remain silent, I am sure.

Reassured, he turned back to John, "I will let you taste the Chateau Lafite sometime. But I want to mark this evening with a white stone by giving all three of us the benefit of this elixir."

He did not take the time to decant the wine into a carafe. Primary reflexes were what mattered on this memorable night.

"Gladys and Rebecca, would you do me the immense pleasure of joining us? All you have to do is dip your lips in this carmine red liquid and you will be won over."

"Let us drink!" The four friends stood to reinforce the solemn moment, and were about to toast, when John stopped them with a gesture.

"It is time to sing along to our favorite aria from La Traviata, the "Drinking Song." (*5)

"Great idea!" With an impeccable accent, Duncan translates without hesitation, "Libiamo, ne' lieti calici!"

La Traviata: “Libiamo, ne’ lieti calici”, Drinking Song, Metropolitan Opera.

 In the middle of the living room, the four inseparable clinked their glasses and joyfully sang the famous tune, while wiggling in rhythm:

"Let's drink from the joyous chalice

Where beauty flowers (...)

Let the fleeting hour

To pleasure's intoxication yield.

 Let's take our pleasure

Of wine and

Singing and mirth

Till the new day

Dawns on us in paradise."

"Bravo!" Happy with their performance, they congratulated each other with a round of applause.

"Rebecca, you kept singing Violetta’s famous song. One would think Verdi had written it for you. We cannot wait for you to share your mesmerizing soprano voice with us once again."

Rebecca was only waiting for this invitation. The beautiful, high-pitched, melodious tessitura flew into the boudoir of Gardenias Mansion, as the blonde figure performed graceful dance steps, aware that her outstretched arms were stretching the cleavage of her ample bosom a little further:

La Traviata: Follie! Sempre libera - Diana Damrau - Metropolitan Opera - 2018

"Folly! Folly! Ah yes! From joy to joy,

forever free, I must pass

madly from joy to joy.

My life's course shall be

forever in the paths of pleasure.

Whether it be dawn or dusk,

I must always live. Ah!

Gaily in the world's gay places,

ever seeking newer joys." (*6)

More than the "bravos", the darkened eyes of desire over her were her most beautiful reward.

ooooOOoooo

To recover from the emotion of having spent so much energy expressing the pleasure of being together, they returned to their original positions, with Duncan and John on the floor, as if this usually incongruous release was a matter of course that night.

Fatigue had taken hold of them, and the two men's intoxication was becoming apparent. There was silence as they tasted the rich texture of the special reserve.

Rebecca was the first to break the general silence: "All evening we have been talking about an essential element of our past festivities, the famously broken duchess. It would fit in beautifully in my boudoir. But I presume your family got rid of it because it had to fall into disrepair, didn't they?"

"No. It is still in the conservatory. My carpenter stripped the frame to put it back together, but I insisted to keep the original silk tapestry. Which is unfortunately horribly faded today. No matter. This is how I like it. You will see it soon, as I want the three of you to come to Soft South this summer." He added with his smile that he knew was irresistible, "Unfortunately, we will not be able to play Dangerous Liaisons anymore."

His three friends laughed heartily and agreed enthusiastically.

"You must not have returned to Soft South very often with your multiple activities!"

"Whenever my business allows me to be in Charleston, no matter how overwhelmed I am with my collections, not a fortnight goes by that I do not go to the Winter Garden to rejuvenate, come wind or snow."

"During your long years in France, did you check up on Lydwine? She had such a predisposition for opera singing! Perhaps she is now a famous professional singer?  Do you know what has become of the three French? Did you ever see her again?"

Duncan rubbed his face vigorously with his hand, as if trying to shake off the fumes of alcohol. In response, he tilted his head from side to side with the frenzy of a drunken man who had lost control of his movements.

Then he muttered, "Never... Never... Never any more... Vanished from the face of the earth!" as he swept one hand exaggeratedly across the space to mimic wisps of smoke. He chuckled. A chuckle that made their blood run cold.

Out of nowhere, Gladys' clear voice rose to the tune of their favorite song from the last two years at the Winter Garden.

The songs of the night birds that had taken up residence in the grounds of the Gardenias Mansion tried to compete with her. But inside the music room, a sweet melancholy embraced the four childhood friends, all moved by Lorena's words, loaded with love, war, and their buried youth.

The last lines signaled the end of an era: "Tis dust to dust beneath the sod; But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart." (*7)

Lorena | Red Dead Redemption 2

The conversation did not resume. The euphoria expressed to the tune of La Traviata had evaporated. And a heavy silence settled.

Only the pragmatic Rebecca was irritated by the ambient nonchalance.

After her "swan song," Gladys had sunk again into a silent melancholy, and it did no't matter to "her friend" if she ever came out of it.  Poor girl! If I were charitable, I would pity her for being in love without hope of return. Meanwhile… John's gray eyes were seeking hers, as they had faithfully done for thirty-five years, but this time their metallic gray was clouded with the haze of alcohol. As for Duncan, his beautiful features, usually so expressive, were empty, as if his soul had vanished.

Her good mood disappeared, and she decided she had to get them to react. "All those memories are in the past. Anyway, the end of the summer of '58 was very dramatic, wasn't it, Duncan?  On the last day of vacation-the images were so traumatic that I remember them like it was yesterday-there were just the two of us under the dome, waiting for you, Bert, and the cousins. You appeared alone out of nowhere, your face disheveled and stained, your lips swollen, and two huge wounds on your arm and chest. What a horror! I am sure you still have scars from that" His silence was an acquiescence. "We had to ask Boyd, your gardener, to get the first aid kit. Blood was spurting everywhere. I wonder what excuse you could have given your parents while they were rushing your doctor.  In the meantime, from one day to the next, we did not see any of the three French again, without them bothering to say goodbye. Our mother learned that the Smiths had moved soon after. All of this signaled the end of our French episode. And of the summer of '58."

If the widow Mansfield's chilling summary managed to shake up her brother and Gladys, Duncan did not.

Obviously sunk in an alcoholic torpor, he began to hum a tune whose notes stretched dramatically.

Gladys, feeling that Rebecca had destroyed their party, made one last attempt to rekindle the game: "It does not seem to me that we were singing this song in the summer of '58."

With a drunken drawl, he interrupted his melody to reply, "We could not. The music was composed the following year."

Then Duncan resumed his solo singing, but the French words became less and less intelligible as his speech became slurred. The throbbing rhythm of the romance was more like a wail, so painful that it made his three friends' hearts ache. He interrupted himself only to swallow a swig from the neck of the bottle because his glass had been spilled on the carpet. The fine oenologist had disappeared. Only a drunken joker remained, rolling the nectar under his tongue with sensuality.

Rebecca decided it was way past her bedtime. Fortunately, Duncan had planned everything from the moment they arrived at the Magnolias' Mansion. James, their driver, would be ready to drive them home at the first sign.

She sounded the starting signal by pushing John's head to free her legs. Get up," she told him. It is time to go home.” Her authoritative voice took him out of his sweet intoxication.

Gladys stood up, a little ashamed now that she had made a spectacle of herself by being too emotional. She was feeling guilty. It was not in keeping with the demeanor of a respected lady of the Charleston community. However, she had no regrets. The evening had been a pure delight. At least, it would have been completely without Rebecca's presence. It was a sweet dream. As soon as she pushed open the door of the Matisson mansion, it would fade away, and she would return to the monotony of her life. She would return to her hypocritical, unfaithful, cruel husband, and her facade as an unflappable Southern lady, gentle and smooth of all temptations.

John had been exhilarated by this evening, so happy to find the complicity which united them all four. For him, the enchantment was not finished. Because they were going to return both, in their house. Protecting their happiness under the closed shutters. Their present and their future were certainly bright. He took her hand.

They did not disturb their host to thank him for his welcome, for he had become a stranger to their presence. He had gone far back in time...

So stunned by alcohol that he was stroking the bottle of red wine clutched to his heart with a dazed air, as if hypnotized by the label, while mumbling a few lines from the French song of 1859.

Before leaving, his three friends pretended not to see the tears running down his cheeks.

ooooOOoooo

Author : Arlette Dambron

#gone with the wind fanfiction, #french litterature, 18th century libertine, #Camille from Alexandre Dumas, #Louis Icart,  #Choderlos de Laclos, #Giuseppe Verdi, #La Traviatta, #Drinking song, #Follie, #Dangerous Liaisons, #erotica etching, #Tristan and Isolde, #La Traviatta 1857 New York, #Lorena, #french writer

"Camille" or The Lady with the Camellias, from Alexandre Dumas fils,  Edition from 1938 With 25 acid-etched watercolors from the French painter and illustrator Louis Justin Laurent Icart (1888-1950). 

"Camille" or The Lady with the Camellias, from Alexandre Dumas fils, etching from Louis Icard, 1938 edition.

Notes on Chapter 54 :

(*1) The "fin amor" - The literary genre that expresses that sung by the Troubadours of the Middle Ages, is "courtly love". But this word was not used until 1883 by Gaston Paris.  So, for historical rigor, Duncan does not use it.

(*2) The Lady of the Camellias, La Dame aux Camélias, is a novel by Alexandre Dumas fils published in 1848, with Marguerite Gautier the courtesan, and Armand Duval her lover.

The book by Alexandre Dumas with illustrations by Louis Icart, consists of 25 copperplate etchings The book was published in 1938.

(*3) La Traviata, Opera by Giuseppe Verdi, 1853, inspired by The Lady of the Camellias: with Violetta Valery, the courtesan and Alfredo Germont her lover.

April 13, 1857, date of the second performance of La Traviata in America, in New York with the debut of Marietta Gazzanica (I changed the date to July 1857, because the French were in America only for the summer vacations. - and the place: there was no opera in Charleston at that date, but it was implausible that the very young people made the trip to New York to go to the concert).

This opera was first performed in America on December 3, 1856 at the Academy of Music, New York, with Madame de la Grange, Brignoli and Amodio (page 46) Source: Annals of Music in America, a chronological record of significant musical events, from 1640 to the present day

https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Annals_of_music_in_America;_a_chronological_record_of_significant_musical_events,_from_1640_to_the_present_day,_with_comments_on_the_various_periods_into_which_the_work_is_divided_(IA_cu31924022439263).pdf&page=63

Lyrics in English of La Traviata : DM's opera site http://www.murashev.com/opera/La_traviata_libretto_English_Italian

(*4) Dangerous Liaisons, Les Liaisons dangereuses, is an epistolary novel of 175 letters, written from 1779 by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos and published in 1782. Source wikipedia https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Les_Liaisons_dangereuses

The book Les Liaisons Volume 1 et Volume 2 / Pierre-Ambroise-François Choderlos de Laclos (1741-1803) ; with illustrations from George Barbier  (1882-1932) painter, and illustrator 

(source gllica.bnf. The two volumes can be read in french (with Barbier illustrations) : https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k1524785p et https://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k1524787h/f264.item

(*5) "Libiamo, ne' lieti calici", La Traviata, with English subtitles: youtube "Drinking Song": Metropolitan Opera https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afhAqMeeQJk&list=LL&index=3

(*6) "Follie! Sempre libera", La Traviata, with English subtitles: youtube "Folly!" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKRvMmEen5k&list=LL&index=2

(*7) Lorena, 1857, music Joseph Philbrick Webster: Gladys sang it a capela as in this video. The 170+ year old song was featured in a 2018 youtube Red Dead Redemption 2, Lorena, Kalmanf Music Channel, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JayLL-Ju-rI&list=LL&index=16 open-world action-adventure and cross-platform western video game.

Or with the guitar, youtube Red Dead Redemption 2 campfire song) - cover by CamillasChoice , https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vz_eKPkt3-o

Chapt.55. Any leads? My novel The Boutique Robillard, my Gone with The Wind fanfiction - Raconteuse d'histoires, Historical Romance

Tuesday, July 13, 1876, Butler residence, 7 East Battery, Charleston No sooner had the car stopped in front of 7 East Battery than he leaped to the ground like a wildcat, generously paid the driver

https://alarecherchedutempsperdu.over-blog.com/2023/06/chapt.55.any-leads-my-novel-the-boutique-robillard-my-gone-with-the-wind-fanfiction.html

Reviews from readers of fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org, on chapter 54 of The Boutique Robillard:

Guest chapter 54 . May 18: Thank you for the update!

***

Aet. chapter 54 . May 18: I hope you give Gladys a happy ending. Look up Alphonse Mucha and there is a work he did with women wearing either red or white Camillas.

 ***

Mis. chapter 54 . May 18: Ohhhhh such a quick update! I will admit I missed hearing from the other characters but it was interesting nonetheless.

Chapter 1. The Divorce, The Boutique Robillard, my Gone with The Wind fanfiction - Raconteuse d'histoires, Historical Romance

Rhett Butler to Scarlett 0'Hara : "Franky, my dear, I don't give a damn!" (picture from the movie Gone with the Wind) Atlanta, September 1873 "I don't give a damn." This harsh sentence, pronounced ...

https://alarecherchedutempsperdu.over-blog.com/2021/04/chapter-2.divorce.html