Book #1: Suzy's Dream (Chapter 7 - Part 1)

 

Chapter 7

It was by chance on one of his usual evenings to Madame Douvry's, that André Vilbert learned Suzy would soon leave Paris.

All afternoon, Suzy had been out with Lady Graham, who had taken a warm and real liking to her. Saddened by her husband's departure for America, the young Lady Graham would have liked to have Suzy with her already. She asked for her incessantly, desirous of having a companion during the innumerable errands she ran in Paris. Madame Douvry resigned herself to these daily separations from Suzy, so that at the moment of departure, her daughter might no longer see Lady Graham as a stranger. 

Together, Lady Graham and Suzy had made a long stop at Worth's, where Suzy herself had been called upon to give her opinion on the designs proposed by M. Jean, the great courturier.

Then, in another celebrated fashion house, she had watched Lady Graham place on her tawny hair a succession of large and small becoming hats, all equally remarkable in originality and price. Lady Graham made her choice with her usual exuberance and without a shadow of coquetry.

Then followed a stop at a bookseller on the boulevard, where the young Lady Graham stocked up on books of all kinds—some very serious, others rather frivolous, even spicy on occasion. At the same time, she insisted that Suzy should make a choice for her own use. Lady Graham said this in such a friendly tone that Suzy, despite her somewhat touchy pride, did not refuse.

After the bookseller, they returned for the five o'clock hour of leisure at Lady Graham's, where Suzy had found Georges de Flers—one of the frequenters of the young woman's drawing room—in the midst of the half-French, half-English society, which had kindly welcomed Suzy.

And so, a little intoxicated by the excitement of her day, she forgot for a moment the bitterness of the departure from which scarcely twelve days separated her. Upon her return, her conversation at home was lively, amusing, and strewn with exclamations, as it awakened the memories of her walk throughout the day.

André, as always, listened to her silently.

He spoke to everyone, but very little to her; he scarcely looked at her, but she never uttered the slightest word without him hearing her.

“Oh, Maman, I think we shall definitely leave Paris on the 17^th!”

André flinched when he heard this.

“Lady Graham wishes to be settled in Cannes by the beginning of December,” Suzy continued.

“Are you planning to go to the South with this lady?” André asked, so surprised that he forgot his timidity, which usually prohibited him from asking any questions.

“Yes…You didn't know?”

No, he didn't know. Absorbed in his many works, André had been compelled to space out his visits to Madame Douvry's; he was ignorant of such a decision. He was overwhelmed by the news he had suddenly learned.

Madame Douvry explained the circumstances to him in her sad voice, which held a continued trace of weariness even now. Courageous to the end, she strove to bring to light the happy aspects of this trip to Cannes, heroically concealing from her husband and to poor Suzy what an ordeal it was for her to see her child leave.

“Yes, yes, I understand,” André said. “All of this is reasonable. But, my God, it will seem to me—Strange, Mademoiselle Suzanne, to no longer see you here.”

“You will miss me a little, won’t you?” she said, trying to laugh, but her heart suddenly swelling with emotion.

“I shall miss you much more than you think,” he replied simply and with his usual grave calmness.

Yes, this separation from Suzy was, for him, a very tough blow. And so unexpected…

He was not fully aware of it until later, when he found himself in the solitude of his modest room, which seemed to him dreadfully gloomy. Even so, he liked the almost monastic aspect of it. But that evening he cast an indifferent glance at his favorite authors, the faithful friends of the long winter evenings, at his drawings, several of which were of remarkable beauty, at his essays as an art critic, which he pushed aside with an impatient gesture.

He opened one of his large portfolios. Sketches filled the inside of it, most of them unfinished, always representing Suzy in postures that had seemed the most charming to him. In all of them, she stood out singularly alive.

Each of these sketches brought to André’s memory of a moment spent near her. So, this winter, on these cold images alone, he would see her again because now she was going to leave.

When next he would return to the Douvry’s little drawing-room with its Oriental curtains, he would still find the little boys seated in the corner of the room, leaning over the table where they worked in the evening. The twins would always have their little disheveled heads continually turned towards their mother's beautiful, tired face. And Madame Douvry would occupy her usual place near the lamp, bent over her work, attentive to distract her husband's gloomy reveries.

Yes, all of them would be there. All except her, Suzy.

When he entered, he would no longer see those brown eyes of hers, and the sweet lightning he felt when he met them. Suzy's piano would remain closed. She would no longer enliven the drawing room with her youthful exuberance or with the song of her voice.

Was it possible, such a thing?

“She can't go. I don't want to accept that she’s leaving!” he repeated to himself as he walked feverishly through the room.

For a long time, André Vilbert had lived for art—alone, isolated like a Benedictine of the Middle Ages in the depths of his cell—with all the interest of his life concentrated on his artistic studies, for the worship of love and beauty possessed him. He had worked with passion, fleeing the shockingly frivolous world around him. In that world, he felt himself misjudged because of his somewhat unsophisticated approach. He had a fierce reserve under which he hid his very deep impressions and concentrated them together.

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.