Salpêtrière’s finest example, a girl with a golden life, fingers that moved with confident grace, and a husband waiting across the sea, will be burned as dirty pestilence, her body not good enough for the overflowing cemetery. Laure doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to know that by now outside the chapel door the sun has risen. She will have more space on her sewing bench. Hers is now the best lace in the workshop.
5
B ack in the Sainte-Claire dormitory, Laure is sitting on Mireille’s bed. They have already found another girl to occupy her spot. Madame Gage introduced her in the dormitory after the funeral. Her name is Jeanne, and she is tall with a large, homely face and hair already turning grey although she isn’t even old. She is considered a Bijou because she can read and knows how to embroider. For the time being, while the other girls are at work, Laure is alone in the room with Madeleine, who carries in her arms Mireille’s yellow gown. After the funeral, Madame du Clos brought the dress up from the workshop and handed it to Madeleine. The needlework instructor is holding onto the locket of Frédéric until she can give it to a suitable girl bound for Canada to return it to the officer. She also said that the royal gift of the trunk filled with the essentials for Mireille’s new life in Canada had been reclaimed by the hospital.
“We shouldn’t sit on this bed. It belongs to Jeanne now.” Madeleine is standing, her torso hidden behind the bulky dress in her arms.
“I thought you were Mireille’s friend,” Laure says. “Yousound like the Superior who brings in a new girl before the old one has even been put to rest.”
“Are you going to come for the midday meal today?” Madeleine asks, sitting down beside her. Laure doesn’t answer, and Madeleine lays the dress down between them. Laure’s eyes are drawn to the skirt. The bodice is even more impressive. It is reinforced by strips of whalebone and has short sleeves, and ends in a point over the abdomen area.
“Come on, Laure, you can’t keep guarding this bed like a dog. Mireille doesn’t care who uses it now.” Madeleine takes the skirt onto her lap. “I think this dress would suit you well. I really have no use for it.” She lifts the bodice up to Laure’s chest.
Laure touches the dress and then pushes it away. “When will I ever need to wear this? Besides, I’m too thin now to look good in a gown.” Laure can feel the bones of her shoulders if she brings them up to her ears. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t even been eating the usual meagre portions for the past two days. She slumps forward and rests her head on her palms.
“In the sewing shop. You’ll need it when you get hired. Just like you always talk about.”
Laure feels like it was years ago that she dreamed of finding employment and eventually a rich suitor through the Halles garment industry. The image of Mireille reaching for her with bleeding fingers and the smell of the Hôtel-Dieu and the chapel have shut out her thoughts of being a seamstress.
“What about you? Madame du Clos gave the dress to you.” Laure knows that Madeleine is the favourite of Madame du Clos. She is everyone’s favourite.
“That’s only because it fits me.” Laure raises her eyebrows, as they both know that isn’t true. Madeleine shrugs. “If I needa dress someday, I’m sure it will be there for me. This one’s for you. When you get your apprenticeship, you’ll be able to start earning money right away. You won’t have to pay off the debt for your dress.” Laure knows that dresses such as the one in Madeleine’s hands, a requisite to a seamstress position, often take years to pay off. But she cannot bring herself to feel enthusiastic at Madeleine’s generous offer.
“They want us to pretend that we’re different from the prostitutes just because we are called Bijoux . Do you think the people standing out there cheering like it was a public
5
B ack in the Sainte-Claire dormitory, Laure is sitting on Mireille’s bed. They have already found another girl to occupy her spot. Madame Gage introduced her in the dormitory after the funeral. Her name is Jeanne, and she is tall with a large, homely face and hair already turning grey although she isn’t even old. She is considered a Bijou because she can read and knows how to embroider. For the time being, while the other girls are at work, Laure is alone in the room with Madeleine, who carries in her arms Mireille’s yellow gown. After the funeral, Madame du Clos brought the dress up from the workshop and handed it to Madeleine. The needlework instructor is holding onto the locket of Frédéric until she can give it to a suitable girl bound for Canada to return it to the officer. She also said that the royal gift of the trunk filled with the essentials for Mireille’s new life in Canada had been reclaimed by the hospital.
“We shouldn’t sit on this bed. It belongs to Jeanne now.” Madeleine is standing, her torso hidden behind the bulky dress in her arms.
“I thought you were Mireille’s friend,” Laure says. “Yousound like the Superior who brings in a new girl before the old one has even been put to rest.”
“Are you going to come for the midday meal today?” Madeleine asks, sitting down beside her. Laure doesn’t answer, and Madeleine lays the dress down between them. Laure’s eyes are drawn to the skirt. The bodice is even more impressive. It is reinforced by strips of whalebone and has short sleeves, and ends in a point over the abdomen area.
“Come on, Laure, you can’t keep guarding this bed like a dog. Mireille doesn’t care who uses it now.” Madeleine takes the skirt onto her lap. “I think this dress would suit you well. I really have no use for it.” She lifts the bodice up to Laure’s chest.
Laure touches the dress and then pushes it away. “When will I ever need to wear this? Besides, I’m too thin now to look good in a gown.” Laure can feel the bones of her shoulders if she brings them up to her ears. It doesn’t help that she hasn’t even been eating the usual meagre portions for the past two days. She slumps forward and rests her head on her palms.
“In the sewing shop. You’ll need it when you get hired. Just like you always talk about.”
Laure feels like it was years ago that she dreamed of finding employment and eventually a rich suitor through the Halles garment industry. The image of Mireille reaching for her with bleeding fingers and the smell of the Hôtel-Dieu and the chapel have shut out her thoughts of being a seamstress.
“What about you? Madame du Clos gave the dress to you.” Laure knows that Madeleine is the favourite of Madame du Clos. She is everyone’s favourite.
“That’s only because it fits me.” Laure raises her eyebrows, as they both know that isn’t true. Madeleine shrugs. “If I needa dress someday, I’m sure it will be there for me. This one’s for you. When you get your apprenticeship, you’ll be able to start earning money right away. You won’t have to pay off the debt for your dress.” Laure knows that dresses such as the one in Madeleine’s hands, a requisite to a seamstress position, often take years to pay off. But she cannot bring herself to feel enthusiastic at Madeleine’s generous offer.
“They want us to pretend that we’re different from the prostitutes just because we are called Bijoux . Do you think the people standing out there cheering like it was a public
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