Advice and admonitions
“I wonder how such a smart girl like you could have ended up in this obsolete XVIIth century and, what beats it all, with a second-rate poet like me. Of course, it’s much simpler to give advice than to live up to it,” My poet notes mockingly.
“Don’t be blunt,” I bark decided not to let my creature have the upper hand.
“I am the one to decide whether you’ll be a genius or a scribbler. Anything goes if one puts one’s heart to it. Now get up, put on your irresistible charm and lead the divine Angélique down the primrose path!”
“Milady shall have her wish. I only hope you’ll never regret it, my dear. Hell is boiling over with answered wishes.”
Left out in the cold, reaching after me from the empty chair, I grope in vain for my chinchilla wrap left behind in my past. I watch Jean-François’s trim figure bowing in front of Angélique, asking for a dance. What a charmer! What a dancer! His shiny black locks twist and turn upon his shoulders to the rhythm of a minuet. Their glances meet and make the sparks fly.
The music has stopped playing. With a perfect hand kiss Jean-François leads his conquest to her seat.
“Is Milady satisfied?” With a mischievous wink the poet settles by my side.
“Not bad,” I acknowledge his effort and draw back from his charm.