Gala at the Tour D'argent

When Bemelmans' last book, "The Street Where the Heart Lies," is published early next year, its heroine, incurably honest, infinitely beautiful, forever hungry Gala, may well take her place – along with Lili, Fanny and Gigi – among the wispy wonders of French fiction. The loveliest of all strippers, Gala is the creation of fiery Miomo Corti, proprietor of the Relaxes Vous night club, who, insanely jealous of her beauty and well aware of her commercial value, married her when she was still in her early teens. So absolute is Corti's domination that he keeps her on a near-starvation diet to preserve her precious figure. Ordinarily, Corti never lets Gala out of his sight, but his desperate need for a loan from Vittorio Vivanti, a lecherous Milanese millionaire, finally forces Corti to allow Vivanti to take Gala out for an evening in Paris. As the story opens, it is the morning after that fateful night.

As if out of a Tunnel, in a humid landscape, far away the bells of Notre-Dame were ringing – that melody which says "We will always be here – we will repeat it eternally." The bedroom of the Cortis faced upon a side street. It was papered in a faded tint of beige, the color of old cigars in store windows long exposed to sun; a pattern of blue fleurs-de-lis was on this paper which in places hung loose from the wall. The one window was curtained with violet velvet drapery, on the ceiling were remnants of a stucco decor and from it hung a two-branch gas chandelier. A shaft of morning light like a huge knife cut through the room – it passed through a cage with two lovebirds, lighting them up green as glass and chattering, it went on through floating gray dust and reached back to a closet stuffed with the many furs of Gala. On a dresser were jewels and gloves, and a stand held the intimate garments of both Monsieur and Madame Corti. The bed was held in place by a theatrical trunk used as a night table. The bed as the rest of the room, in disorder, was filled with pillows and bolsters and out of it hung one small foot attached to the left, lovely leg of Gala.

There was a soft knock on the door. Then the door opened – and Madame Michel, the servant, dressed in her workday outfit of blue jeans, a blouse, scarf and slippers, came in carrying an immense basket of flowers. Of long-stemmed white roses, tall white branches of blossoming lilacs, all tied with a broad satin ribbon. A stuffed white dove with a card in its beak was attached to the high wickerwork, looping handle of the basket. Madame Michel placed it near the window and silently left.

The telephone stood on the trunk, close to the bed – and it rang. Next to the telephone was an ashtray. The phone kept ringing – Gala sat up, reached over and picked up the instrument.

"Ah, it's you," she said. "Good morning." The voice talked rapidly, she said, "Speak a little lower." She smiled and said:

"I too find you adorable."

Suddenly her head twisted involuntarily to her side, to the wall. Miomo Corti had risen in one quick motion, slapped her face, and gotten out of bed.

He was dressed in an elaborate bedrobe and pajamas. His face was ashen, his eyes looked as if someone with a stylograph had worked endless circular lines around them. His gray hair was in disarray. He kicked the ashtray aside, he kicked the phone to the floor – and he walked around it (continued on page 156) Gala (continued from page 124) looking at it as if it were a hostile creature about to jump up and strike at him – an agitated voice continued out of the phone – " 'Allo – 'Allo."

Corti bent down to it and shouted:

"I don't know who you are, Monsieur, but you are impolite – you awaken us in the middle of the night. I find you disgusting!"

Gala was used to slapping, and had no particular reaction to it. It brought color to her cheeks – she looked radiant. Her husband leaned down, picked up the phone and put it in its cradle.

"Who was it?" Corti yelled, "I want to know!" She pointed at the large basket of flowers and said: "Your friend, Vittorio Vivanti."

"Why didn't you say so, idiot!" said Corti. "Oh – Oh – Oh – you're driving me insane." He looked at the flowers and took the card. "You stayed out most of the night – you find him adorable – and he sends you an excessively expensive bouquet of flowers. Now then – explain! What happened?"

He came close, and it was her habit to tilt her head away from him when he did, so as to avoid his loose hand as much as possible.

"What happened?" he screamed, taking her by the shoulders.

"We went to the Tour d'Argent —"

"Of course, he has to show you off, why couldn't he have taken you to some small place?"

"Well with his big Rolls-Royce —"

"And?"

"There we ate."

"You left here at 10 and you came home after 4 o'clock in the morning – you couldn't have eaten all this time! Where did you go after dinner? Where did you end up?"

"At his hotel."

"You went to his hotel – to his room? – like a common little whore to a bordel!" He slapped her again.

"But it was the Louis Quatorze."

"The Louis Quatorze like every other hotel is a bordel!

"Ah, no wonder he is grateful and sending you flowers. What did he say on the phone just now?"

"He said how nice it would be if we were in bed together now, and the waiter would be bringing breakfast – he wouldn't be lonesome."

"Were you in bed with him?"

"No."

"The ugly toad – and you said that you found him adorable —"

"Well, he said that he found me adorable as a woman – I was only polite to him."

Corti moved back and forth in a trot.

"Oh, this is awful! Tell me the truth – don't lie – swear to me – did you go to bed with him?"

"But of course not!"

"I must know – I must be sure – look at me – do you swear —?"

"I swear, of course I swear —"

He pulled back the curtain, the light streamed in, she sat in bed, he kneeled on the bed, he pulled back her hair – and took her head in his hands, he bent it back – and he looked at her close.

"Look at me – look into my eyes!"

She did.

"Yes," he said, "I believe you. The eyes don't lie.

"Oh, that dirty old lecher! You poor innocent child!

"Just the same – everybody at the Tour d'Argent, and in that hotel every clerk, telephone operator, room waiter and maid take it for granted that you slept with him, that you are his little whore, don't laugh – it's terrible. You are so beautiful, so pure, so innocent and so stupid!"

He sat down on the bed dejectedly.

"The old swine – I am sure he tried everything to make you sleep with him – you don't have to tell me – I know.

"What happened from the moment you left here? I must know everything. You went to the Tour d'Argent – where, of course, Signor Vivanti was greeted by everyone from the owner down – and properly taken care of – go on from there."

"Well, they all know him there —"

"Important client – Bon soir, Your Excellency."

"He ordered first – from a beautiful, big menu – and the proprietor himself came to take the order."

"Naturally, Signor Vittorio Vivanti is a very important man."

"We had the best table in the room – overlooking Notre-Dame, and the Seine – and the Cathedral was lit up, and then he said, how beautiful it was and how even more beautiful it would be if I went to bed with him after dinner."

"Impossible – the swine – at the start – just like that."

"What did you say?"

"I said nothing."

"You were shocked."

"No – I was reading the menu and because it was the first time I was at the Tour d'Argent and because it was all so beautiful and the first time I could order what I wanted to eat. That is – Signor Vivanti did the ordering – I never had such a meal as was coming. Let me tell you what he ordered – first caviar – as much as I wanted – with little pancakes – and champagne – and then —"

"Spare me the food. Tell me what he said."

"He talked about going to bed —"

"With the caviar?"

"Yes. He said that was very good for it. He said it several times while they were bringing the caviar and he told me to eat all I wanted – he ate a mountain of it. Then came a lovely soup – Gevminy à la Oseille and the next course was wonderful – a sole, in a white-wine sauce – with truffles, mushrooms and little moon-shaped bits of pastry."

"And what did he say?"

"He said he was very lonesome in his big suite at the Louis Quatorze."

"And did it never occur to you to say to this man:

" 'Monsieur! unless you change this conversation immediately, I will get up and leave you!'?"

"Well, he is much older than I am and you asked me to be nice to him – he wanted me to call him tu but I addressed him as vous and Monsieur Vivanti throughout."

"Go on, tell me what he said."

"I had finished eating the fish and then came the owner of the restaurant again and he took me out on the balcony and showed me the scenery and the ship below – that was lit up and just turned around. The bateau mouche filled with tourists.

"The owner of the restaurant asked how everything was, and Signor Vivanti said that it was all excellent."

"So then?"

"So then we went back to the table – they had cleared away everything."

"What did he say?"

"M. Vivanti asked me to come home to his hotel with him, after dinner."

"Preposterous; the mentality of this man, to take a young married woman out, the first time – and to ask her at dinner to go to bed with him, to ask anyone that at any time, is in the worst bad taste – but at dinner it is awful, but go on – what happened next?"

"Next came the pressed duck. That was the best, and the Tour d'Argent – Monsieur Vivanti explained to me – was the best place in the world to have pressed duck – and we got a card with the number of the duck on it. The duck was presented on a silver platter – it was brown as toast, and then taken away, and Miomo, it's like in Church during High Mass – in Notre-Dame near the High Altar – there were three fat headwaiters like cardinals, with napkins stuck in their necks. Each one stood in a niche, like in a tabernacle with a light shining down on him, and each one had a duck in front of him, and silverware, and sauceboats, and they sharpened knives, and then they cut up the ducks, that's all they do all night long – and then it's put – that is, the carcass of the duck is put into silver presses and they twist and turn a handle and then the blood comes out of a spigot —"

"Will you stop talking about food and come to the point – Vivanti – what (continued on page 160) Gala (continued from page 156)about him – what did he say?"

"He said how wonderful it was and how glad he was I enjoyed it all and he said how he would enjoy to go to bed with me– –"

"And then?"

"And then came the duck and they served the red wine with it – this was even better than the fish."

"And you just kept on eating, you didn't ever answer him?"

"Well, I said that it was the most wonderful meal I had ever had."

"So what did he say?"

"Well, the same thing."

"So what did you say?"

"I said nothing."

"So what did he say?"

"He said he was very hurt and he wanted to know why I didn't want to go to bed with him.

"I said I was sorry, but I couldn't jump in bed with anyone just because he wanted it."

"So?"

"They had wonderful soufflé potatoes with the duck – you know, not those you get in other restaurants that are like parchment or potato chips. These were soft and then there was that wonderful sauce."

"What about Vivanti – what did he say?"

"Just then he couldn't say anything, because the proprietor was back at the table and asked how everything was, and the wine waiter asked how it tasted, and the headwaiter, so Signor Vivanti didn't say anything except 'fine, fine, fine, excellent – very good, thank you.' "

"How discreet."

"It tasted wonderful, he ate and drank and then he wiped some of the fat and sauce off the plate with bread, and ate it, and then he wiped his mouth."

"How vulgar, and you sitting there with him!

"So what did he say by way of answer when you told him you couldn't jump in bed with just anyone?"

"Yes, he wiped his mouth and took a swallow of wine and then he said that he wasn't 'just anyone – –' "

"Oh yes – we know that – go on – –"

"He picked his teeth, but very elegantly in back of a napkin that he held in front."

"How chic – continue!"

"He looked very sad, and ordered some dessert. 'What would I like?' he asked me, and then he told the head-waiter that we would both like some crepes suzette ... He asked me if I liked that and I said yes – of course – very much. I'd like anything he ordered – –"

"Except a bed!"

"I will never forget this dinner as long as I live."

"I am sure you never will."

"It was the best meal of my whole life."

"So then?"

"They cleared the table."

"Oh yes, and the discreet seductor, from Milano – sat silent – perhaps with his hand on your leg, looking down your décolletage."

"No, he was very proper, I must say."

"Oh, the very model of an Italian gentleman. What did he say?"

"He said he was sur rised."

"At what?"

"That I was so narrow-minded and did not want to go to bed with him. I said, 'You know, Monsieur Vivanti – the fact that I parade myself naked on the stage doesn't mean that I sleep with everybody who asks me!'

"I said that furthermore I was a respectably married woman and loved my husband."

"Did you really say that?"

"Of Course – I can't make up things like that, it's the truth."

"So how did he react to that?"

"'Of course,' he said. He knew and he had great regard for you."

"One never knows one's true friends. Go on – what happened next?"

"So now they made the crepes suzette – all at the table on silver platters and everything done by hand in front of us, scraping the orange peel, and the lemon peel and mixing the butter with orange juice and the liqueurs –

"Now the waiters and the proprietor were around again.

"Well, he asked me how I came to meet you, and how I got into this business of which I am part, and about my beauty and how I got into this flea circus."

"Flea circus –what flea circus?"

"The Relaxes Vous."

Corti slapped her. "Did you answer him? To that at least?"

"No, I said simply that it was my profession, because I had not learned anything else, and that I owed it all to you."

"So he said?"

"Well,' he said, 'Well, my darling – carissima – soon you won't have to do it anymore,' and then he asked me again to sleep with him."

"Good Lord, it's like listening to a train going over rails – or to an ode by Klopstock."

"What is that?"

"You wouldn't know – it's a German poet, I tried reading to stay awake waiting for your return, Gala – all through the night. I fell asleep with it.

"What about Signor Vivanti– –?"

"So he painted a picture for me of all he would do for me. The life he would give me, if I became his friend."

"That mangy dog, all that the first time he goes out with you. I should have never let you go.

"Then?"

"Then he asked me if I wanted more crepes suzette – and I said yes."

"How could you eat – with this talk going on?"

"Oh, it goes in one ear and out the other."

"What happened next?"

"I said to him, 'I am sorry, but I cannot leave Miomo. He is my husband, and he has taught me all I know, my life is to dance, to do my act on the stage.' "

"What did he say to that?"

"Nothing, the waiter came and said: 'Will Monsieur have any more crepes? Will Madame have any more?' "

"So I ate more – and I ate his, too.

" 'Anyway,' he said, that is, Signor Vivanti –'I will make a great actress of you, a star' – and would I sleep with him after – –

"He asked for a cigar and lit it, and for some brandy – and then he started again – looking at me with his bulging eyes, like a frog and repeating – Croak, croak – 'Sleep with me– –' "

"And you? What did you say?"

"Oh, Miomo, I got a feeling of sickness – I didn't want to listen anymore, I got lonesome for this place – for my little stable downstairs. He looked at me again and I said: 'Please don't ask me anymore – please arrest this conversation. I cannot listen to any more of this talk, I will get sick and you will have to take me home right away.' "

"At last – and of course there was nothing more to eat. What did he say – –?"

"'Go and finish your crepe suzette,' he said, and he told the waiter to give me some more champagne. But he was quiet for a second and then he asked me why I didn't want to go to bed with him, when every other girl did. He said that he had stayed an extra day in Paris just to see the act, and to take me out and have dinner with me, and to make plans and that I owed it to him to sleep with him."

"How disgusting! – but go on – –!"

"He said that he could have had dinner with another girl – and then slept with her and had no problems. So I said that I was very sorry, but that he should have taken that other girl and why did he insist on taking me. So he said because he loved me.

"I said, 'You come to Paris for a day, you see me, you say you fall in love with me – that isn't love – love is for long years, love is forever.' So he looked very sad and then he sighed and asked for the check. 'I loved you the moment I saw you,' he said. 'Haven't you ever heard of love at first sight?' "

"How romantic – go on."

"I can't stand anybody looking sad, so I said: 'Signor Vivanti, I am sorry – you know it's much easier to say yes to a man than to say no – but I can't go to bed with you – or anyone else – I am lull of complexes about going to bed with people – or about taking my clothes off. In fact, I couldn't do it – and have never done it except in public.'"

"What did he say to that?"

"He said, 'Try it with me, it will make no difference – to our friendship – nobody will know about it, and I will respect you as before.'

"So I said, 'Please let's talk about something else – look at the beautiful view.' He called for the bill again. The waiter came with the bill. Signor Vivanti never looked at it – he didn't add it up. He reached in his pocket and took out a pack of 10,000-franc bills as if they were lottery tickets – and he covered the bill with them and pushed it away, then he gave one to the headwaiter. Then he snapped his fingers and gave another one to the wine waiter, and then they all bowed and pulled chairs, and we went down the elevator and he gave another bill to the doorman and then we got into his big Rolls-Royce and he started again, he said: 'We'll drive to my hotel' – he took my hands and asked me again to sleep with him.

"I said: 'If you had met me at someone's home, or anywhere except at the Relaxes Vous – would you allow yourself to talk to me this way – this kind of conversation?'

"So he said that he talked to all women the same way – I asked if he talked to his wife like that also.

"He said, 'No, not to my wife – –'

"I said, 'Why not?'

"He said – 'Because she is my wife!'

"Then he said it was early and did I want to go to see a cabaret, so we went to Monseigneur – and that was very nice, and then I had an idea, I wanted to go back to the Indifferent."

Miomo Corti jumped up. "Oh God, no, why did you want to do a thing like that for? To go back to that place where you worked before."

"I just wanted to see the show – to see the girls there."

"So they all know! You go there with this monstrous creature! Did you tell him that you had worked there?"

"Yes, of course. Besides, they all came, and he bought champagne for everybody, and the Rolls was waiting outside with the chauffeur – very chic, everybody admired it."

"Was the place full?"

"Not at first – but then word passed – and they all came – from the street – from across – from the Sphinx – the Semiramis – the New Paradise. It suddenly was packed and people stood three deep at the bar."

"So what did he say?"

"He couldn't talk about going to bed because everybody sat with us, and the owner of the club said that any time I wanted to come back – I would be welcomed with open arms – I had been the greatest attraction since they opened."

"It's getting pretty late – now – when did you go to his hotel?"

"Yes, he said, too, that it was getting late and he would take me to his hotel and that there he had a beautiful apartment with a fine view of Paris."

"What happened next?"

"We were ready to go when the proprietor of the Indifferent said that there was great ambiance, and everybody asked me to do one of my numbers."

"Good Lord! The final degradation!"

"So, because after all I had to do something for Signor Vivanti and because everybody begged me, the musicians, the girls, and because the director took me by the hand and introduced me to the audience. So suddenly I was there on the stage – and I did Tourbillon – and then there was such applause that I did Les Miroir Profond and as an encore Les Plaisirs Clandestins."

Monsieur Corti held his head in both hands. He cried: "But have you gone altogether crazy? Especially Les Plaisirs is my latest creation – and not to be shown around – at the Indifferent!" He slapped her three times.

"Well, I thought you wouldn't mind – I only sort of tried it out. Besides, it was announced that it would be part of the new show at the Relaxes Vous and he gave you credit and also the address."

"How did it go?"

"They went hysterical, but I did not give another encore."

"And the old swine was now excited and wanted to get to bed immediately."

"He said that I was a great artiste."

"Then you went to the hotel?"

"Yes, then we went to the hotel."

"Up to his room! Oh, this is unbearable, but go on – –"

"He was very nice."

"You went – just like that?"

"No – I didn't want to go up at first.

"I said, 'It's late, please let me go home, I can take a taxi' – but he said. 'Just come up for a moment – –'"

"So you are in his room – go on – –"

"He showed me the view, he asked me again to please call him Vittorio. Then he asked me to go to bed with him. I said, 'Look, you can call up your other girls, or call the Indifferent – they will send you somebody – anybody you want – but I can't go to bed with you.'"

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'Why not?'"

"I said, 'It's impossible because of my husband' – and there suddenly I had to burst out laughing – for I was thinking of you, so Signor Vivanti also laughed, and he asked me what I was laughing at – and I told him – how funny it was – –"

"And he said?"

"He said, 'All women are crazy – here you refuse my love, and you laugh at your husband – what kind of a brain have women got?'

"I said, 'I had to laugh because it was all so sad.'

"He said, 'Oh, I thought you laughed because you had changed your mind, one never knows with women – I don't understand them, the older I get, the less I understand them' I said that I was sorry.

"He said, 'Here you have ruined my whole evening for me – there is so little in this life to remember with any pleasure – and it is over so quickly.'"

"One must say, he has persistence."

"So he said, 'Explain to me why you won't go to bed with me, here you are in my room – nobody will know.'

"I said, "But I have explained it to you – I told you that I could go to bed only with somebody I loved.'

"'Love,' he said, 'What is love?'

"I said, 'Love is when you walk hand in hand in the street – and you see nobody else and it has nothing to do with bed.'

"So he asked if I walked hand in hand with you down the street and saw nothing else.

"So I said, 'Well, I did once.'

"So he said that if it had nothing to do with bed, why not do it?

"But I did not answer. He asked if there was anything I wanted.

"I said yes, that I was very hungry, I wanted something to eat.

"So he said that he was hungry, too – but that the room service at the Louis Quatorze was terrible and everything took hours and came up cold even during the day.

"So he said that he knew a place that was still open, a small place, and there we went, and they had something wonderful – a veritable grande spécialité of the house – Le Jambon Arcadie – a ham, so light it seems to float on a bed of spinach au gratin – I never ate anything like it. With some mushrooms in cream around it and an Italian dessert with wine."

"So what did he say?"

"I asked him if, because I did not go to bed with him, it was all over, and if any actress or artiste who did not go to bed with the producers, directors or owners of theaters would be finished."

"'It has nothing to do with it,' he said.

"'Talent is so rare – beauty is so rare – –'

"He took my hand, and he said, 'No matter with whom you slept, if you have no talent you will not get there,' and not to worry – he would see to it that I became a star – he would help me because I had beauty and talent."

"Tiens – tiens – so he finally gave up."

"He told me that he had to go to Milano by plane today and then he would come back and give a big party at the Relaxes Vous.

"I was so sleepy – in the car he said, 'I will be very grateful, always – I will love you always.' He kissed me."

"Of course – 'like a father.' "

"Yes – like a father."

"So what did he say next?"

"He said, 'When do I see you again?'

"I said, 'You are a very important man, Signor Vivanti, and, as you say, all the girls want to sleep in your bed, so don't waste another evening on me.' He leaned back in his corner of the car and he said, 'Such a thing has never happened to me before.'

"So we were again in front of the hotel, and he held me by the arm.

"He said again, 'Come up – just for a moment.'

"But I said, 'I have seen the view from your lovely apartment and I thank you for a wonderful evening, but I am dead of fatigue, please let me go.' But he said, 'Just a minute – come up – just for a minute – I have a surprise for you.' So I said, 'But you promise!'

"'Yes,' he said, 'I promise – I have a present for you – just come for a minute' – and we went up the elevator."

"Bon Dieu, is this never coming to an end?"

"He wanted to give me something."

"So you go to his room a second time. What happens now?"

"When we were there he opened a bottle of champagne and then he turned on the television, but there wasn't any – the Eiffel Tower was all violet in the morning light. He picked up some telegrams, he said it would be wonderful if I were as crazy about him as he was about me. Then he said I would lose you all your friends if I behaved with them as I did with him."

"Touching, his concern for me."

"Then he asked me to go to bed with him – for the last time.

"I shook my head – –

"Then he said that most probably I wasn't any good in bed anyway, and I said I was certain I wouldn't be. So he said he wanted to get a little sleep, his plane was leaving early – and he said his chauffeur would take me home."

"And what did he give you?"

"He forgot to give it to me.

"I said goodnight and that I was sorry for having ruined his evening. He said maybe it was better so, but he looked very tired, he started to put things away in his suitcase, put some papers into folders and he looked around for things to put in his pockets and it all made me feel terrible. Then he took me down and put me in his car and told his chauffeur to take me home. I sat in the car alone and I had to cry because life is so sad. 'I will call you tomorrow morning and give Miomo my best.'

"I said, 'Forgive me – –'

"He said, 'Of course' – so the car drove on. At the Place de l'Alma, the chauffeur stopped the car and he said, 'Madam, excuse me, but may I ask you a great favor?' "

"No – not the chauffeur also – –!"

"So I said, 'What is it?'

"He said, 'I am a married man. My wife is insanely jealous – and she poisons my life. She does not believe that every night Signor Vivanti rolls from one place to the other – all night long – from one restaurant to another – from Maxim's to the Tour d'Argent to the Éléphant Blanc, to the Left Bank, to the Right Bank. To night clubs, to parties – to private houses until four or five in the morning. She thinks I am out with other women – and so tonight I put her into the baggage trunk of the car and took her along, so that she finds out for herself, and now I would like to let her out, if you don't mind.'

"So I said, 'Of course – let her out immediately.'

"So he opened the trunk of the car, and his little wife came out and stretched herself, and she thanked me, and sat in front with him, and she put her arms around his neck while he was driving, and she said that she forgave him. And that is all."

As she talked – Gala was busy feeding her two small birds who, with their parrot jaws, cracked sunflower seeds. Outside in the street the crash of voices of little boys was heard as they came rushing out of school. Gala stood against the sunlighted window, her lithe figure silhouetted and Miomo Corti studied her. He said:

"I, too, forgive you, Gala." But she did not hear it. There was the sound of the bells for the full midday concert from the towers of Notre-Dame.