The Wedding of Mephistopheles

VII

Downstairs, I was needed by a set designer who had already begun to think about the concept. Most of the actors were fully engaged in examining the contents of the numerous bottles on the table. To calm myself down, I poured myself a glass of wine.

"Mr. Aiguille..." Clarté stared at my disheveled hair and rumpled shirt. Meeting my gaze, he turned to the papers on the coffee table.

He showed me his designs, and I told him what I'd come up with recently since I didn't take the drawings with me.

Our ideas were similar, it was easy to combine them. We didn't know if this would suit Enfer, but he wasn't in sight.

I dedicated my whole life to this show. During the day I ran a shop, at night I met actors, designed and sewed. At last the machine standing in my room regained its former attractiveness and I sat down to it willingly. I would often fall asleep at my desk at four in the morning and run to the store at six.

The meetings almost always looked the way I have already described - long talks about art, lasting several hours, followed by lively discussions on usually unrelated topics. I ate exotic viands with unusual flavors, drank spirits that cost more than my annual rent. I haven't talked to so many people in five years.

Do not think that there was no damage to my health. It's obvious - you cannot live like this for more than two weeks. Two weeks later, I got sick.

At first it was not so serious – I felt rather all - overish. I began to get some fresh air more often. That's what Albert advised me - he did it regularly and was in good health despite his old age.

A piercing cold crept into my coat. My hands, even with gloves, were numb from the cold. I knew this weather would only make my condition worse, but so far I only had a sore throat.

I sat down on the bench. The lanterns haven't been lit yet. It was three in the afternoon, Saturday.

A man in a beige coat walked past me. He stopped two meters from me and turned on his heel. I noticed that he was our set designer. From the expression on his face, I gathered that he was as surprised at this meeting as I was.

"Mr. Aiguille!"

I got up from the bench and shook his hand.

His eyes, wide and bloodshot, made me a little uneasy.

"Is everything all right?"

He looked at me as if he was thinking frantically.

"Yeah," he choked out finally. "But could I... Could I... Come in for a moment?"

"Of course," I agreed, a bit nonplussed.