The Wedding of Mephistopheles

V

That's how it started. Enfer introduced me to the script. I will not quote it here, because why? I just had to sew the costumes.

There were six of them – of Bride, Squire, Guardian Angel, Bridesmaid, Priest and of course Mephistopheles himself.

It was the first time I did something like this on an assignment. Of course, my wall was full of fantastic designs just taking up space. But I never took them off. Now they proved useful.

Enfer invited me to his house. I was there to meet actors and other people involved in the show.

His place of residence turned out to be a huge, luxurious, classicist villa on the outskirts of the city. The house was surrounded by a vast English-style garden, full of secret corners, ponds, fountains and monuments.

The director greeted me at the entrance and invited me to the billiard room.

In there, there were already gathered actors, make-up artist, light operator and set designer.

One of the women came up to me and kissed me on both cheeks. Several other people did the same.

Only one man politely shook my hand. He was young (everyone here was amazingly young), with short blond hair (but darker than Enfer's) and a mustache more luxuriant than mine. He was a bit shorter than me, but better built.

"My name is Auguste Clarté," he said in a low voice. "I'm a set designer."

He looked nervous, though he was clearly trying to hide it. Before I could start a conversation with him, he turned his head towards the door.

Enfer was there. Apparently they've all arrived. The meeting has begun.

For several hours, though I couldn't judge exactly how many, we listened to the director's lecture, wrapped in cigar smoke. His voice hypnotized, put you to sleep, but at the same time did not let you lose your vigilance. It beguiled.

Then he turned to me and Clarté.

"You must cooperate. Come up with concepts together. The sets and costumes have to complement each other."

We both agreed. Enfer began explaining their roles to the others. And then dinner was served, and the meeting slowly turned into a soirée.

I really, really wanted to see the rest of this mansion. But Enfer was busy with the conversation. Even though he didn't really say much himself. He was sitting cross-legged in an armchair, his elbow resting on the carved armrest, a cigar in his hand, leaning slightly to his left. The gray frock coat and waistcoat made his eyes even bluer.

The actors gathered around him stared at him fascinated, looking for any reaction from their speech that suggested that the host agreed with them. But he just led his eyes on the gathering until he finally got to me.

If I had tried to say something then, I couldn't have. My throat would have been dry.

This man knew my feelings and thoughts. He knew my desires. And I suddenly felt the need to talk to him. In a private conversation, while walking, for example. He could talk all the time, continuously, and I would listen without missing a word. I wanted to get to know him as he knew me. I wanted his hand, now holding the cigar, to touch mine, so even through the glove I could feel its light pressure.

Did everyone here feel it? Was there just something wrong with me? I looked around at the people in the circle. They wanted his attention, for sure. What else? Maybe intimacy?

"Here they are all with him. They are all his" said a voice in my ear. I jumped up. It was Miss Morue. Her eyes met mine and her hand slowly slid over my shoulder.

"And how are the peasants different from us?" I heard from the assembly in the middle. "We know how to behave at the table, that's how. Human is..."

"Table manners are very important," Enfer said suddenly. "If you're rich, a special teacher teaches you savoir-vivre. It's always about one thing..."

There were voices of agreement. I zealed to enter the circle, to sit next to him, but Miss Morue's hand held my arm like iron claws.

"When will my outfit be ready?" she whispered in my ear."I need it quickly. The funeral is in two days."

I nodded mechanically.

"Soon."

"You don't know how to have fun!" She grabbed my other arm and turned me to her.

She was no longer my client. A client would never stand so close, pressing her chest against mine.

"Anna, don't molest him," Enfer admonished her from the center of the room.

"But he wants it!" she protested, standing in front of me, shielding me from the people. Then she grabbed my right hand so that the signet ring dug painfully into the finger adjacent to the little one.

We ran up the marble staircase with ornate handrail, and down the red-carpeted corridor. I started to want her now, I found this run exciting.