Archive for August, 2010

THE ABSURD ROMANCE OF P’TITE LOUISON

The five brothers lived with Louison, three miles from Pontiac, and
Medallion came to know them first through having sold them, at an
auction, a slice of an adjoining farm. He had been invited to their
home, intimacy had grown, and afterwards, stricken with a severe illness,
he had been taken into the household and kept there till he was well
again. The night of his arrival, Louison, the sister, stood with a
brother on either hand–Octave and Florian–and received him with a
courtesy more stately than usual, an expression of the reserve and
modesty of her single state. This maidenly dignity was at all times
shielded by the five brothers, who treated her with a constant and
reverential courtesy. There was something signally suggestive in their
homage, and Medallion concluded at last that it was paid not only to the
sister, but to something that gave her great importance in their eyes.

He puzzled long, and finally decided that Louison had a romance. There
was something which suggested it in the way they said “P’tite Louison”;
in the manner they avoided all gossip regarding marriages and marriage-
feasting; in the way they deferred to her on questions of etiquette (as,
for instance, Should the eldest child be given the family name of the
wife or a Christian name from her husband’s family?). And P’tite
Louison’s opinion was accepted instantly as final, with satisfied
nods on the part of all the brothers, and whispers of “How clever!
how adorable!”

P’tite Louison affected never to hear these remarks, but looked
complacently straight before her, stirring the spoon in her cup, or
benignly passing the bread and butter. She was quite aware of the homage
paid to her, and she gracefully accepted the fact that she was an object
of interest.

Medallion had not the heart to laugh at the adoration of the brothers,
or at the outlandish sister, for, though she was angular, and sallow, and
thin, and her hands were large and red, there was a something deep in her
eyes, a curious quality in her carriage commanding respect. She had
ruled these brothers, had been worshipped by them, for near half a
century, and the romance they had kept alive had produced a grotesque
sort of truth and beauty in the admiring “P’tite Louison”–an
affectionate name for her greatness, like “The Little Corporal” for
Napoleon. She was not little, either, but above the middle height,
and her hair was well streaked with grey.

Her manner towards Medallion was not marked by any affectation. She was
friendly in a kind, impersonal way, much as a nurse cares for a patient,
and she never relaxed a sort of old-fashioned courtesy, which might have
been trying in such close quarters, were it not for the real simplicity
of the life and the spirit and lightness of their race. One night
Florian–there were Florian and Octave and Felix and Isidore and Emile
–the eldest, drew Medallion aside from the others, and they walked
together by the river. Florian’s air suggested confidence and mystery,
and soon, with a voice of hushed suggestion, he told Medallion the
romance of P’tite Louison. And each of the brothers at different times
during the next fortnight did the same, differing scarcely at all in
details, or choice of phrase or meaning, and not at all in general facts
and essentials. But each, as he ended, made a different exclamation.

“Voila, so sad, so wonderful! She keeps the ring–dear P’tite Louison!”
said Florian, the eldest.

“Alors, she gives him a legacy in her will! Sweet P’tite Louison,” said
Octave.

“Mais, the governor and the archbishop admire her–P’tite Louison:” said
Felix, nodding confidently at Medallion.

“Bien, you should see the linen and the petticoats!” said Isidore, the
humorous one of the family. “He was great–she was an angel, P’tite
Louison!”

“Attends! what love–what history–what passion!–the perfect P’tite
Louison!” cried Emile, the youngest, the most sentimental. “Ah,
Moliere!” he added, as

List Price: $ 4.99

Price: