Book #1: Suzy's Dream (Chapter 2 - Part 4)

 Chapter 2 continued...

“That's true! I am mistaken, indeed, but M. Vilbert is so reasonable, so serious, so solemn that it’s hard not to be confused at times. Oh, Maman, did you thank him for me?”

“Yes, Suzy, but you can thank him yourself. I think he’s coming this evening to pay us his weekly visit. That is if his shyness isn’t troubled by the idea that you will be here to praise his work.”

“I hope not. Yet, Maman, this is awful. I wouldn’t feel sorry if I was nothing more than a scarecrow to him, so that nothing this evening takes you away from me. When André Vilbert is here, you are busy engaging in conversation, and I can no longer have ...” Her voice trailed off.

In fact, Madame Douvry always welcomed André Vilbert affectionately. She had at the same time, esteem for his intelligent and serious, almost austere nature, and compassion for the solitary life he led in Paris, where he had no family. In the past, M. Douvry had known André's father very well, a man who was very learned and modest, but eventually M. Douvry’s adventurous existence had carried him away from Paris. On M. Douvry’s return from America five years prior, it was only a chance encounter that had brought him the acquaintance of his old friend’s son, André.

At the time, the young man was studying architecture at the Beaux-Arts, although he had passionately wished to devote himself entirely to painting. His mother had remained a widow, but with a very small fortune. Fearful by nature and shaken by the death of her husband, she had been terrified at seeing André undertake a profession which was not a career in her eyes. It was only a rich man's pastime, one from which his father, M. Vilbert, had always struggled to divert the young man. And André, in the face of his mother's anxiety, had yielded, because it had seemed his duty to do so.

He had nevertheless continued his expensive studies, concentrating on the artistic side of architecture. His works had been so remarkable that, scarcely out of the Beaux-Arts, he had found a place with one of the first architects of Paris, who was at the same time an archaeologist of high reputation.

For five years now, André had sought the illusion of a family with the Douvrys. He was always discreet, silent by taste and shyness, and considered by all the children—starting with Suzy —as a kind of elder brother. Although courteous in nature, he was a little cold and excessively reserved.

Madame Douvry had made an impulsive judgment in supposing that André's bravery would falter with the hope of Suzy's thanks. As the last strokes of nine o'clock rang out, the young man appeared in the drawing room.

“Bonjour, André…Bonjour, Mr. Vilbert!” Exclamations tumbled over each other as he greeted each guest of the room in turn. Lastly, he stopped in front of Suzy.

“Mademoiselle Suzanne, I didn't dare hope to see you yet. It seemed to me that they wouldn’t let you leave Le Castel,” he said, pressing the small hand which he enclosed with his own.

“Oh, really? Is it not too disagreeable for you that I have come back to torment you?” she asked, laughing.

Her lively voice had such a cheerful intonation that M. Douvry let the magazine he was reading fall into his lap. His dark and tired face brightened for a moment.

“Oh, Monsieur Vilbert,” she continued. “How kind of you to paint something for me from a work that I love! Your “Melancholia” ... Would you allow me to christen your canvas in this way? Your “Melancholia” is already a friend to me! I have so much pleasure looking at it.”

A fleeting flush ran over the roughly drawn features of the young man.

“I enjoyed a few moments of freedom, and I find it rewarding if I find that it pleases you.”

“You have been extremely kind to me. I wish it were possible for me to do something to return your kindness...”

No doubt this was a day of courage for André, for he dared ask, “So, if I were to ask you to play a little music during the course of the evening, you would perhaps consent?” Then very quickly, timidly almost, as if to excuse his boldness, he added, “It’s been so long since I’ve heard you play.”

Immediately, Suzy got up from the place she occupied alongside her mother and went to sit down at the piano. 

“Monsieur Vilbert,” she said, in a mischievous, yet friendly tone. “The desires of artists are orders for humble mortals. I am ready to carry out anything you ask of me.”

André followed her. Leaning against the fireplace, he motionlessly listened to her, his tall figure standing out against the light of the lamp. His whole soul rushed towards this girl who was playing on only his wish to hear her play. He would have liked to take her two small, slender hands and keep them forever in his own.

But he would never have dared to confess the mad request rising to his lips now, when she was near him. He felt that in Suzy's eyes, he was just a friend and nothing more.

And he guessed right.

In that moment, she forgot his presence. In a sudden look back, her thoughts brought her to Le Castel. Only the day before she was also playing, and someone was listening to her alone. But this someone did not have such an immense stature or the awkwardness of André Vilbert. This person, on the contrary, possessed a haughty and alluring elegance. He showed Suzy a respectful courtesy and he knew how to speak to her well.

And that is why, while playing the melodies of Schumann that Georges loved so well, she took pleasure in remembering him. She would have been happy to see him again, as she had been with him at Le Castel, he always attentive to her.

End of Chapter 2

Le rêve de Suzy is in the public domain. All original additions, including translations, illustrations and chapter summaries, are copyright © 2025 by Marriah K. Nissen and may not be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. All rights reserved.