La Tragédie

Act 2

      Louis recalled a simpler time when they could afford to spend money. That was when his father was in the Corporation des Menuisiers-Ébénistes, the woodworking guild. Henri Cartier made cabinets and was a fine craftsman at that. Louis was supposed to follow in his footsteps. That was before the revolution ripped the guild system away taking Louis' father along with it. When the revolution was in full swing, Henri died fighting for a better future for his family. Now all that remains is the shattered glass of a store belonging to a guild that no longer exists. Louis' heart ached just as it did five years ago. 

      As the two passed by what was left of the store, even Marie fell into a sullen silence. A flier was posted on the old door. "For the Glory of France!" It said, "Join the Effort Today!" Louis resisted the urge to spit on it. He was, after all, in the presence of a young lady. Those filthy rebels have no place advertising their conquest on Father's door. Louis settled for ripping the flier off the door and throwing it ceremoniously into the trash can. Louis then turned around, almost running right into Monsieur Monet.

      "Ah Monsieur Cartier there you are, I've been meaning to speak with you." Louis winced, he hated being called his father's title, but he tried to not let it show instead only revealing a slight nod. Monsieur Monet then turned to Marie, his face breaking into a large crooked-toothed grin. "And Mademoiselle, always a pleasure." He held out his hand waiting for Marie to take it. She gave Louis a pleading glance, which he answered with a shoulder nudge. Best not to be rude towards one of the richest men in town. Marie suppressed a shutter as she extended her hand to be kissed by Monet's rough lips, his nearly bald dome gleaming in the sunlight as he did so. As he righted himself once again, he hoisted up his pants causing his belly to jiggle as if it was fluid. As Monsieur Monet turned his attention towards Louis, Marie took the opportunity to rigorously wipe the back of her hand on her stained apron. "As I was saying," Monsieur Monet said gruffly, "There was a small matter I wanted to discuss with you." He glanced at Marie. "In private." Louis sighed already suspecting what the matter was.

      "Don't go far," he said to Marie who answered with a small eye roll. He decided to ignore that. "How can I be of service to you, Monsieur?" Louis asked with practiced patience, just like his mother taught him. He held himself tall, which did little to make up for his small stature, dwarfed in Monet's shadow. His father's old, torn, woolen jacket did little to help as it hung loosely off his malnourished frame.

      "How long before your sister over there makes her debut?" Monet asked gruffly.

      "Monsieur! My sister is 10 years old!"

      "Yes, yes." Monet waved his swollen hand with indifference, "But seriously, how long until she's of age? I would like to be the first in line." Monet began to pull out a wallet from his coat pocket.

      "Monsieur Monet, my sister is not for sale!" Louis shouted attracting the attention of a couple passing by. Louis lowered his tone to a harsh whisper. "We are not some charity case you can toss money around to get your way. The very notion is insulting." Monet bared his yellowed teeth forming a forced smile.

      "You should be grateful I want your brat of a sister in the first place. Why must you let your pride get in the way of allowing your sister to ascend to greater things?" Monet huffed as he straightened himself once again. "You know where to find me once you finally get some sense knocked into you." Monet left Louis tongue tied and nauseated in the middle of the town square. Suddenly the smell of warm bread had lost its appeal. He stormed back to Marie who didn't dare squeak another word for fear of pushing Louis over the edge. He had their mother's temper after all. "Come on," he said, "Let's get you back home."