Christine

 

Christine was only fourteen, when she escaped France at the end of 1869. Her mother put her on a ship to the Americas to family and a better life, but once she had reached Orleans, she found that the family she had escaped to, she had to escape from. Her Aunt, long dead and only a man cousin with less than honorable intentions, she took to street.

Weeks went by before Otto Schwartzman, the master butcher, found her crouched behind the store eating scraps from the bin. Taking pity he offered a cot in the back, in return she swept the floor and wrapped orders. He not knowing French and her unversed in the German language, worked out an understanding through pantomime. 

She went mostly unnoticed to everyone, that was everyone, but Ora Mae.

Ora Mae went to the butchery every Tuesday. There was a ritual to the purchase of goods, almost a game between the shrewd housekeeper and the frugal German.

“Guten Tag” Otto would sing out gaily.

 “Gooden yourself,” Ora Mae would shoot back with barely a wisp of a smile “Humph, wat so good about it?”

“Da, it is a beautiful day, da sun is shinning, there are customers, what could be better! Besides, I have a very special cut for you, I cut special just for you.”

Ora Mae grumbles back “I’da just bet you do, and you’da gonna charge me extra too.”

“Oh, now, we good friends, I make good deal for you Ora Mae.” He motions for Christine to come forward to help with the wrapping. Ora Mae squints her eyes and purses her lips “Who’d dat?”

“Her, oh a street urchin I rescued.” replies Otto “Say hello Christine.”

Christine tentatively responds “Bon jour.”

Ora Mae glowers again “Bond jur, she don’t speak English?”

Otto raises his hands and shrugs “No, but we get along fine.”

“Humph,” was the only response Ora Mae offered before grabbing her package and leaving, but not before looking at the young girl in Otto’s shop once more.

Ora Mae informed Marie Elise of the French girl working at the butchery.  She was very intrigued by the description Ora Mae provided, so much so that on the following Tuesday, the Madame herself went to the butchery to see.

The carriage, driven by Gerard the butler, stopped in front of the shop. It was early, and the streets had not yet awaken. Gerard opened the carriage door and assisted the Madame out.

Upon entering , the bell attached to the door, signaled her arrival.

“Guten Tag” Otto’s singing voice greeted from the back, “I have special cut today for Ora Mae.”

The Madame, holding her head high, responded “Guten Tag, Her Schwartzman.”

 Otto, poking his head through the small doorway, showed his visible shock. “ Madame Bolivien, dis is an honor. Let me show you what I have for you.” He picks up the cut from the counter near him. 

She waves her hand, “The girl Otto, I wish to see the girl.” He puts the cut down, wiping his hands on the apron at the girth of his waist, heads behind the doorway to retrieve what Madame came to see.

What emerged shocked even Marie Elise. Indeed, she was as Ora Mae described her. Large aqua eyes, fair skin, and thin, too thin, she thought. “Bon jour.” Marie Elise greets Christine, studying her every move. Recognizing a true French accent, she responds in kind with a small curtsey.

Marie Elise steps forward, speaking in French, “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.” Christine responds in her native language.

“Do you have family here?”

She shakes her head no. Not knowing what to make of the Madame, she stands perfectly still, arms at her side.

Marie Elise circles around Christine, studying her, like one would a horse, tapping her parasol on the wooden floor. She comes around and stands in front of the petrified girl. She grabs her face in her gloved hand, moving it side to side. Nice bone structure, no signs of pox. “Open” she commands. Christine obeys. Teeth are slightly large.  Removing her hand, she orders, “Now smile.” Again, Christine obeys.

This one has potential.

“Otto, do you not feed her? She is too thin.” chides Marie Elise in English.

Otto, not knowing what to make of the situation, stutters a reply “Da, Madame, she eat well.”

Turning on her heel, the Madame headed towards the door, “Send her with the order by 3pm.”  She doesn’t look back and the door closes behind her. Yes that one has potential, she thinks, as she opens the parasol. Gerard, opens the door to the carriage, and takes his place behind the reins.

“Home Gerard.”, Madame shouts out. But what to do with that scarlet hair, she contemplates listening to the clip clop of the mare’s hoofs.

 

After the Madame departs, Otto looks at Christine. She is shaken from the event, tears brimmed, threatened to spill at a moments notice. Otto, tried to be reassuring, speaking to her in a low soft tone, “Oh, da not so bad, she liked you, I can tell. You go 3pm and make special delivery, you see it be fine.”

 

Christine arrived at the Chambre des Bolivien, promptly at three o’clock. She raised her ragged hand to the door to knock, and quickly put it back at her side. She turned to look and see if anyone was around. Maybe I can leave the package here, she thought. She looked at her hand, her beautiful hand, raw from helping Otto. Is this my fate? To work at the butchery for the rest of my life?  The thought sent shivers down her spine. I must make my own way, this is my chance. She knocked on the door.

“Bon jour" she spoke in even tone as Gerard opened the door. He motioned her to the sitting room, and took her package.

 

“Christine, please sit child.” Marie Elise pointed to the seat. Christine stood and than sat in the chair. She kept her hands hidden underneath her.

“So tell me, do you like working at the butchery?”

“Yes Madame.” replied Christine. She would never betray Otto.

Marie raised her eyebrow, “Do you know what type of business I run?”

Christine shakes her head no. It wasn't a lie, she really didn't know for sure. 

 "Well, I have a proposition for you..."