The Mask of New Paris ✓

XXI. Confessions at Dante's

We discover Cilia Drysdale turns out to be quite the woman. After Farah has been called upstairs, she informs the matrone of the Garden of Eden of our stay. The firm woman gives her a scrutinizing look, accompanied by foul words but Cilia is unmoveable. With grace, she handles the situation, multiple times stressing that there are few customers during the day and that should one arrive, she'd provide her services nevertheless.

Farah remains standing as Joane and I sit down on the chaise longue. At the same time, Cilia steps around the room, looking for something a bit less revealing to wear. After pulling out a pitch black, silk robe, she tightens it around her waist and places her hands on her hips. She throws us an asking look.

"So we all want my parents' downfall, but how exactly are we planning to do so?" she asks, mostly directing her question towards Joane.

"We were hoping for your contribution." Boudrot starts but Cilia raises one delicate hand.

"I thought I made myself clear, Joane. Now let's seek answers for the most important question: how are we going to confront them?"

"We have no reason to believe they are aware of us... we should take that to our advantage and act quickly, leave them no time to flee." Joane says, before she starts chewing on a chocolate dipped strawberry.

"So you suggest we just barge in and confront them with our accusations?" Cilia answers. Her eyes look discontented. "Joane, you truly disappoint me with your tactics." She mumbles, shaking her head causing dark vibrant copper curls to dangle off her shoulders. She huffs and struts up and down the room, mumbling a combination of French and English mutterings through her fiery red lips.

For the next hours we try to come up with a plan that will lead us to the Drysdales. But to no advance. No matter, what we come up with, every move, seems insufficient. The chances that they will flee or plainly deny our accusations are real and it brings us no further in finding Reed or avenging Sir Boudrot.

After being stuck in the companion's room for a few hours, a knock interupts our heated conversations. All at once, we turn our heads towards the door.

The matrone stands in the open treshold, her arms crossed in front of her chest. She has changed clothes and is now wearing a stylish black dress and vibrant red pumps. "Cilia, we have a client for you."

Without a word being said, we slip through the open door back into the hallway as Cilia quickly prepares for an hour of her services. Downstairs we encounter the man that is paying for our ally's time. I shudder at the thought of this man, round and strapping, embracing the graceful courtesan upstairs.

Instead of waiting in the hallway, I decide to get some fresh air. The street we came through this morning is more crowded now that the sun has started its way back down. Farah stands next to me, holding my coat and the small purse we brought along.

"Let's grab something to eat while we wait for Miss Cilia." She says. As if on cue, Joane appears behind her wearing her pastel pink coat.

" That seems like a marvelous idea, I am starving! Let's go to Dante's."

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It is crowded in the streets of New Paris. It doesn't seem like any of the passerby's has a clue of the emotional track I have made the last couple of days. My husband gone and no clue to find him. My gang of allies makes their way over the lush avenues all the way until the salt air of the bayou port at the end of the Promenade welcomes us back to a reality I had nearly forgotten about in the rush of things.

We find a spot on the terrace of Dante's. The cold autumn air prevents us from taking off our coats but strands of sunshine make it enjoyable enough to stay outside. We order tea. As the waiter leaves, an awkward silence wraps around us. It remains so, even as the waiter brings our order and departs after putting several small, triangle shaped sandwiches on the round table.