


A Good Conversation

by tryhonesty



Category: Quills
Genre: Angst, Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-05-05
Updated: 2004-06-07
Packaged: 2013-07-25 22:54:20
Rating: T
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,678
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1849299/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/438370/tryhonesty
Summary: “And what would a faceless voice want with the supposed insane.” She whispered, The voice replied-“A good conversation with something other than the walls of this prison.” .... R&R please!





	1. Arrivals at Charenton

The bell tolled as a black carriage trolleying a brown cart, dusty from its travels pulled into the long drive of Charenton. From his window in the tower he watched, as the small black dot grew large as it moved up the dirt road to the cast iron gates of the asylum. The clicking and neighing of the horses drew no attention as no one person was outside anymore.  
  
The light from the sun, albeit dim as the sky was cast in gray, pained his eyes. He was so used to darkness. T'was the only time he was really awake. His bleak days he spent listless and slack, waiting for the sky to change and the sun to finally sink beneath the horizon. Then, he was like an insatiable puppy, hounding the old laundress for more paper and quills. Should the doctor find out about his nightly routine, he would for sure end up like Bouchon in the dungeon, locked away for eternity.  
  
His attention again was drawn to the black carriage. What was in the brown cart? It was to far away to see. Was it a new torture device ordered by Royer-Collard? He couldn't put his finger on it. The carriage rounded the final corner and came to a full stop at the gates. A cloaked figure in a top hat emerged from the wagon, obviously the doctor himself. The driver hopped off his seat and aided the doctor in opening the gates. The driver went around back and apparently unhitched the brown cart. The man got a good glimpse of what was really in the cart. People! New patients awaited in the haul. The footmen of the carriage dismounted and hurried to help the new inmates out of the dirty wagon. The carriage on the other hand, began to slowly make its way into Charenton.  
  
He looked through his window as the new inmates walked, clad in irons, through the gates and made their way up the steps into the quarantine building, where they would be washed and cleaned, the women's' hair chopped to the chin and the men's hair cut shorter. They walked in a single line, like those sentenced to death. He laughed quietly. Oh the irony of it all. Those sent to the asylum to be rescued from death are in turn actually delivered to the reapers stoop.  
  
One inmate in particular seemed to having some difficulty. She was a young thing, no more than twenty. She was last in line and walked with exactly the same distance between her legs as they moved. She had long dark hair; it had obviously been beautiful at some point. She held her hands high, as if afraid of something terrible and her mouth moved, muttering words he couldn't decipher and bobbing her head with her pace. One of the footmen grew tired of her games and pushed her down. She fell heavy, yet was standing in almost an instant. A fear of unbelievable strength gripped her expression and again, she dusted herself off as best she could, rigid with terror she raised her hands, began to walk in the same fashion and started to mutter. What strange girl. He thought. Although, she'll cause the good doctor some trouble undoubtedly.  
  
A loud banging in the hall aroused his attention. The cruel bark of Collard could be heard coming his way. He glanced at his makeshift writing table. His latest story was lying open and the ink bottle and quill lay in plain sight. Dashing, he collected his stolen boons and ran to a spot on the wall. Prying with his free hand he pulled a fairly large stone loose and behind it was a small space just large enough for his secret. Jamming them in and the stone in place, he ran to his mat of straw for a bed and lay, listless like he had for so many days before. His door banged open.  
  
"I see there's been no change in Coulmier... Abbe." Royer-Collard said to the man in cloth behind him. Still accustomed to the name, the man – Coulmier – lifted his head to the words Abbe. The doctor noticed.  
  
"Not you, we know just what you caused here whilst you were the Abbe. Monsieur Coulmier. A man of the cloth indeed." The last words were spoken with disgust. "Feed him only water for supper. He'll not endure any solid food until he repents. A man of God always repents doesn't he Abbe?" He sneered at Coulmier before slamming the iron door. Coulmier could hear the bolt click shut as he rolled over onto his side.  
  
"Yes, a man of God always repents doctor." He whispered before returning to his catatonic state.  
  
* * *  
  
Elise stood at the washing tub in the quarantine building. They had removed her chains and she found her wrists worn raw from them. Her nails were dirty and she stretched each finger exactly twice. As things had to be with someone like her, suffering from a compulsive complex associated with mild to severe germophobia. That's what the doctor had said when her mother questioned. Her "complex" was the beginnings to insanity, and so was her reasoning for being here. The woman at the wash tub ordered her to strip.  
  
With both hands, Elise began removing her dirty gray dress. She moved at the same precise speed she'd used while walking and lowered it equally on both sides. She closed her eyes and she forced out every image of all the germs floating in the water she was about to enter and allowed herself to step into the frigid bath. She trembled with fear, not with cold as they assumed. After the washed her long hair, she heard the scraping of a knife and all of a sudden felt a harsh yank to her skull and the sawing of a dull blade on her matted tresses. She made a small sound in protest, but her "disobedience" was only rewarded with a harder tug on her remaining hair. Her eyes still closed, she felt a strong male hand yank her into a standing position and lift her out of the tub. The only thing keeping her from screaming out was the fact that she could not see it, any of it. Her hair, her "cleaned" skin, which was no doubtedly crawling with new bacteria and lye. All her life she'd lived by "if I cannot see it, it can't possibly be there." It had saved her skin more than twice her life.  
  
Pushed into a direction, she felt it only safe to open her eyes. She stood stark naked before another woman who handed her a clean cotton dress. It was blue in color and on the shoulder "Charenton" was embroidered. She muttered her thanks and took the clothes. She desperately needed clean garments and immediately felt relaxed if only a little. She was placed at a table where more people gathered around her and inspected her every core. Her head, her torso and even below the waist. She bit her tongue as they prodded her like a prize pig. She could taste metallic blood. Swallowing, she was brought to a standing position and given her shoes, they were mildly cleaned and she put them on right away. She stood at the door waiting to be led to her new home. A man clapped her in more irons and she was lead away, out of the building and up the grand steps into Charenton, a place, she was informed, she would forever call home.  
  
They led her past multiple doors and up many, many a stair. Every so often, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard in the distance underneath the noise of the printing press downstairs. More and more doors passed and Elise wondered if she had a room at all. Finally, they climbed one more stair and she was led to a room with an iron door. Her escort lifted the heavy bolt and wrenched open the door. She stood again at the doorway. She waited exactly three seconds and entered her new quarters. Taking three steps to the left, she could hear the heavy door slam and the bolt locked.  
  
The room itself was quite bare. A straw matt on one side and a small window that breached her height by just a little. The straw mat was covered in a damp rag that had obviously just been washed. A lumpy looking pillow was the only home like comfort she saw. It was a pale day and even though her window was small it let in a relatively large amount of light. There was no shadow save her own. She walked in her usual manner, equally distanced steps, and peered at her pale reflection in the mirror. She looked sickly, her skin alabaster white and her gray eyes dull. She raised her hand and lightly touched the ends of her ragged hair. Once it had been long and beautiful and now it had been reduced to this... a sawed off mop top with split ends that barely came below her chin.  
  
Elise turned away from the window and walked over to her mat. It was pressed right up against the wall on the right side of her room. Crossing her legs she lowered herself using the same pressure on both arms into a sitting position. She placed her hands on her knees and sat quietly staring at the wall, for there seemed nothing else useful to do. Her breathing evened from its earlier labored state from climbing stair after stair. She began humming a lullaby her mother had sung to her as a child.  
  
Hush little baby, don't say a word Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird If that mocking bird don't sing Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring  
  
* * *  
  
Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, Coulmier heard the patter of a pair of boots coming down the hall. Rolling onto his side, he awaited the Doctor. It was his usual visiting time. But the doctor never came. Instead, he heard the creaking of the door next to his room. Not a word was spoken, and the door was slammed shut. He pressed his ear against the wall in hopes of discovering his new neighbor, but was met with only the sound of steps. There was something about the steps that caught his attention though. They were slow, calculated and precise. His immediate guess was the girl. The girl with the long dark hair. His interest was sparked and he scurried over to where he knew of a crack in the wall. He pried away at the small stone that covered it.  
  
"Mademoiselle?" he whispered. He replaced is mouth with his eye and was looking at a figure dressed in a blue garment with hacked short dark hair. It was obviously a woman, her figure was lithe and gamine. She sat still, as if never hearing his words.  
  
"Mademoiselle?" he repeated. Still nothing.  
  
* * *  
  
She was staring at the wall, concentrating on every grain embedded in the block of hardened sand when she heard a faint whisper.  
  
"Mademoiselle?" She stayed still as so to hear the words again.  
  
"Mademoiselle?"  
  
She stayed silent. Where was the voice coming from? There was no one in her room with her. She was totally alone. The voice must have sensed her confusion.  
  
"Behind you! In the wall."  
  
Slowly, Elise turned her body slightly.  
  
"And what would a faceless voice want with the insane." She whispered.  
  
The voice replied.  
  
"A good conversation with something other than the walls of this prison."  
  
Elise smiled a little. She turned herself so she faced the wall and tucked her legs underneath her. She stared at the wall that spoke to her and she searched for a crack.  
  
"What kind of patient would want a good conversation?" she whispered, her eyes combing the walls.  
  
"One who's not seen another person other than our good doctor and a blind laundress for almost three years. I am Coulmier. Who might you be?"  
  
Elise finally saw it. It was no bigger than a silver franc and led directly to her neighbors' room. She leaned and peered through the hole. All she could see was the pink flesh of an ear.  
  
"Elise." she whispered her reply.  
  
A sharp clicking of heels on the cinder block floor could be heard and Coulmier seemed to become strangely nervous.  
  
"I must go. T'was nice meeting you Elise. I look forward to future conversations." With that, he filled the hole with a small rock, the small moment of connection gone. Elise was left with a tingling sensation. For the first time in a long while, someone talked to her like she was a normal person. Charenton seemed bleak when she first arrived. Somehow, the coming days seemed brighter. 


	2. Learning

The next few weeks passed without incident. Elise spent most of her days laying prostrate on her straw mat and staring at the ceiling. Occasionally, Coulmier would remove the stone and whisper a short message only to be interrupted by the doctor parading the halls. As most of their long conversations were held late at night, the only constant she saw was that of the old blind laundress. Her frail voice calling out  
  
"Linens! Fresh Linens:"  
  
This woman comforted Elise. She was a hunched and wrinkled little thing with foggy eyes, blinded by the lye in the soap she used to clean the sheets, she told Elise. Sometimes, Elise would sit by the door and wait for her to come knocking. If not for a little conversation, for a constant face. She needed it.  
  
Elise had a daily regimen. Pace three steps forward, turn to the right and pace three steps forward again. Then she'd sit at her door until she could hear the light shuffling steps of the laundress. The old woman would crouch and knock on the iron sliding door and call out "Linens!"  
  
One day, the elderly laundress passed her the linens through the small doorway.  
  
"Lise," the woman whispered, using the girls' nickname. "There's a little something from Coulmier wrapped up in there. Treat it with care. He's put a lot of time into it." She winked and pulled the iron door shut.  
  
Elise sat back holding the clean linens that held her gift and wondered what it could be. She heard a scraping noise behind her and turned quickly. It was Coulmier removing the stone that connected their rooms.  
  
"Did she give you my gift?" he whispered. Elise crawled onto her mat and clutched the sheets to her chest.  
  
"Yes." She whispered back.  
  
"Well, open them." He urged. His usually quiet subdued demeanor seemed restrained. His voice was cheerful and excited. Blushing faintly, Elise crossed her legs and slowly opened her gift from Coulmier. It was at least a hundred pages and bound with a singlewide strap of soft brown suede glued taught around the spine.  
  
"Its my book. Well, my last one. I'm working on a new one at this very moment." Coulmier added excitedly through the hole. Elise desperately wished she knew what her neighbor looked like, to see his energy for herself. As it was right now, they were simply voices to each other. She stared blankly at the words in front of her. She, for his lively sake, badly wanted to know what the words meant.  
  
Coulmier crouched at the hole in the wall and awaited Elise's reply. He could barely see her face through the small orifice, but saw enough of her eyes that his excitement was diluted.  
  
"Something wrong?" he asked carefully.  
  
The girl simply shook her head and started to rock slightly. He could hear her sniffling and fighting to control tears.  
  
"Elise, is something the matter? Do you not like stories?" he repeated his question. She snuffed back a breath and exhaled slowly. She turned to the hole.  
  
"No Coulmier, I adore stories. Unfortunately... I-" she stopped, as if fearing the tears would return. "I cannot read or write." She turned her head away ashamed.  
  
Coulmier wanted to reach through the wall and hug his friend. She seemed greatly pained.  
  
"I just feel so terrible that I cannot read what must surely be beautiful words and riveting tale." She added, her voice barely audible.  
  
It was then that he was struck with an idea. He looked across the room to his hiding place and skittered quickly to it. Removing a single sheet of paper, and dipping a quill in ink, he rapidly scrawled the 26 letters of the alphabet, with enough room for someone to replicate them underneath. Blowing on the paper, he grabbed a fresh quill and the inkpot and scrambled back to Elise.  
  
Once, he was sure the paper was dry, he rolled it length ways so small that it slid easily through the gap. Her hands muffled her gasp as he carefully passed a loaded quill through it as well.  
  
"Well," he said confidently. "I'll teach you."  
  
He peered through the wall and saw the corner of her lips turn into a smile.  
  
"Thank you Coulmier. I know not how to repay you..." she whispered, her voice held no mystery as her expression. It was an obvious grin.  
  
"The only payment I receive is that of you enjoying my book. Now, look at the top of the page. See the first letter? That is an A. Copy it exactly as it is printed." He explained.  
  
Later that night, as the moon lazily traveled the sky, Elise lay on her cheap bed, an almost sheer sheet covering her body, she thought back to the afternoon's activities. Coulmier had given her his book. When she'd confessed her illiteracy, he'd only returned with a parchment and quill to teach her the written hand. They'd sat for hours leaning against the adjoining walls as Coulmier explained the letters, how they sounded and their meaning in some short words. They'd passed the parchment back and forth as so that Coulmier could make corrections and add sentences for her to learn. He had also offered to keep her learning papers in his room, hidden behind a well-placed stone so that the doctor Royer-Collard could not find them during inspections.  
  
She couldn't sleep. All she could think about were the letters and they're sounds. They sounded so beautiful coming out of her friend's lips, and so maladroit and jumbled out of hers. Oh how she was looking forward to her next lesson.  
  
As she was just about ready to drift off into sleep, she heard a familiar voice scream out.  
  
"MARQUIS!"  
  
The volume of the scream shot her straight out of bed. She pressed her ear against the wall so that she might hear more. Alas, she could only hear mutterings, and the odd word here and there.  
  
"Madeleine..." was the most frequent.  
  
Shortly after the dead awakening shout, she heard the recognizable click of Collards polished shoe on the cinder block floor. A creak of a door opening and a loud, unintelligible angry word. The mutterings stopped. Elise lay back down on her mat until she heard the clicks of the doctors' shoes fade out of existence.  
  
When she was positive, she cautiously sat forward and listened. Whimpering could be heard from Coulmier's room. She moved to make contact through their stone hole, but a soft knock on her door echoed lightly.  
  
Crawling to the door, she lifted the bolt and slid it open. The laundress was crouched there, her shawl hiding most of her features.  
  
"Lise," she whispered. Elise nodded. "Come child. Quick and silent, the doctors not far gone."  
  
The woman stood up and shortly after, Elise's locked door was open. Elise, afraid of what lay beyond the confines of her room, was led by the laundress a few feet down the hall. What seemed like forever passed as Elise walked, her feet stepping lightly on the cobble floors. They stopped at an iron door similar to her own. The old woman fumbled with the keys but managed to open the door.  
  
Elise, was greeted with the darkness and the same whimpering she could hear in her room. Immediately, she knew who it was. Turning to the laundress, she looked as if to ask whether or not it was safe.  
  
"Quick child, he needs a comfort right now. But make it short, cause if the doctor ever caught you... he'd flay you." She assured. Elise nodded and ran into the darkness towards the whimpering.  
  
Coulmier slept. He dreamed of Madeleine. She was not dead after all, he'd given up the cloth and they were getting married. He walked the aisle to his bride in his dream and turned to her. He screamed when he saw who he was to be marrying. It was not Madeleine... the snide, cruel grin of the Marquis stared out at him from under his Maddy's veil. The scream had woken the doctor and when you wake the doctor, you should expect a severe punishment.  
  
Now, Coulmier clutched his face, where the doctor had laid a fist into his cheek. His lip bled and the agony his face held was almost blinding. He could hear his door being opened again. The doctor must have not had his fill the first time. Coulmier stood shakily, ready to stand and fight if the need be. He was shocked to discover the nimble body of a young woman standing in front of him. He stood, in awe of what was going on.  
  
Blinking, he leaned forward to get a better look at who his visitor was. Suddenly, the woman wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. She had to get on her tiptoes to reach his neck. Coulmier, still confused, hesitantly returned the gesture. The embrace lasted only for a few moments, as the laundress whispered into the darkness.  
  
"Lise! Come, the time could only permit for a moment. Child, come quickly. I fear the doctors coming."  
  
The woman pulled away slowly, Coulmier was surprised to hear the name. He tried to see the woman's face as she backed away slowly.  
  
"Goodnight Coulmier." She whispered almost inaudibly.  
  
"Goodnight," the same wispy intonation was used in his reply.  
  
And she was gone. Like an angel, she came and went.  
  
The next morning, Elise woke to the stone bring removed. Straightening herself, Elise slid over to the wall.  
  
"Good morning Elise." Coulmier said quietly. "I wish to thank you for your kindness last night. I slept much better than I would have."  
  
"It was all I could think to do. My mother used to hug me like that." Elise replied.  
  
"Well you have a very wonderful mother."  
  
Elise blushed.  
  
"Thank you," her next question, she'd thought about since the incident of the night last.  
  
"Coulmier, please do not think me rude, but who is Marquis? I've heard you scream his name in your sleep. And Madeleine, I hear her name spoken with such softness I feel like I've been bathed in down."  
  
She fell silent, waiting to see if Coulmier chose to answer her question. It was a long time before Coulmier ever spoke.  
  
"The Marquis, is just a name for the devil Elise. The Marquis is the devil. Madeleine-" his breath caught on the word. "Madeleine, she... well. I have no words to describe her yet. But if and when I do, I'm not so sure I'll be able to speak them."  
  
Coulmier's voice cracked on the last sentence. Elise wondered if he was truly upset by her superfluous question.  
  
"Coulmier, I-"  
  
"No, worry not. Everything is all right Elise, but I must go. I think I hear the doctor."  
  
Elise watched as the stone was pushed into place. A sort of grief had taken her heart as she heard Coulmier's voice crack and try and hold itself together. She promised to never speak of the Marquis or Madeleine, ever again. 


	3. Lashes and a New Job

Coulmier sat with his back to the wall. He felt so vulnerable. So angry with Elise for asking him about, about the Marquis, and... Madeleine. She couldn't possibly know, he scolded himself. She just merely overheard his nightly taunt. Oh how God punished him for love. But the pain of speaking of everything before brought tears to his eyes and anger to his lips. He couldn't possibly tell things diplomatically should he decide to share his tale with Elise. No, he mustn't ever speak of the past again.  
  
A few days had passed. No words from Coulmier made Elise feels very terrible. She had never meant to hurt him. Apparently Madeleine was someone so close to his heart that to speak of her must unquestionably bring forth great painful memories, a wife perhaps? His lover of late?  
  
And this Marquis fellow, surely he cannot be what Coulmier has described. The devil? It was blasphemous. She tried to imagine what the Marquis must look like but could only see the church fashioned image of Satan. A beast engraved with the number six-cent-soixante-six, 666.  
  
A knock at her door roused Elise back into the present. She sat up and stared at her door. She could hear the clicking of the bolt unlocking her door and she watched to see who would enter. A man dressed in raggedy clothing stood before her and beckoned for her to stand.  
  
Standing quietly, Elise unsure and afraid walked to the door of her room. She had not left her room for weeks. She was accustomed to her room and her room alone. Suddenly, her complex reared its head as it had been dormant for so many nights. She began to tremble as she envisioned the germs and bacteria on the floor around her. They crawled on the floor under her feet, in the walls near her body and on the man in front of her. She screamed and began to hop crazily on either foot. She cried out for her mother and pulled frantically at her clothes. The man tried grabbing at her flailing arms, but it was no use. He dashed off in search of the doctor. In her frenzy, she saw a man being led out of his room and down the corridor. The look in his eyes as he passed her room said it was her friend and neighbor Coulmier. She feared everything except her friend. She saw nothing on his clothes, no evil disease seeking to destroy her. She broke free of her room and sprang into the arms of her neighbor.  
  
"Coulmier it's everywhere!" she cried into his shirt as she clawed to stay off the floor. "Its on the floor, on the guards, on the walls. I can't escape it."  
  
Coulmier saw a flash of blue and dark hair as the girl climbed him. She had wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck screaming and crying. Her noise could be heard throughout the corridor. The guard had left him unbound as this one in particular was very lazy. He placed one hand on her back and whispered in her ear.  
  
"It will be okay Elise. But you must get down. You will be okay."  
  
The guard leading Coulmier pried the crying girl of the patient just as Collard and her escort rounded the door. Elise was still in a frenzy brushing off her clothes and pulling at her hair.  
  
"What is going on here?" the doctor barked sharply. The cold tone made Elise stop fidgeting immediately. Her hands balled at her sides as she could still visibly see the dirt and grime calling to, her taunting to her.  
  
The doctor saw Coulmier unchained and glared at the guard, who, realizing his mistake grabbed Coulmier and dragged him roughly down the stairs past Collard.  
  
"What is going on here?" Royer repeated to Elise's escort.  
  
"She went crazy sir. Started screaming and crying and clawing at her clothes. Then she ran and jumped up onto that Coulmier fellow. I don't see why she's being let out of her room!" he said astonished.  
  
Collard walked up to Elise. He towered over her and as he looked into her eyes he saw an inexplicable fear. Good, he thought.  
  
"You." He said to Elise. "What is your name?"  
  
The girl stammered and fidgeted.  
  
"WHAT IS YOUR NAME!" he shouted louder.  
  
"E-El-Elise sir." She coughed out.  
  
"What is the problem Elise?" he asked, his sudden snarl turned soothing and sweet.  
  
"It... Its' everywhere." She whispered her head low.  
  
"What is everywhere?" he asked.  
  
"Disease, dirt. Filth. It's coming to fetch me. To take me away like it did my father." She moaned falling to her knees. Her previous rage had taken all her energy.  
  
"Dear child. This is a cleanly place. Abbe Charles makes sure of that. Ssh. Be calm Elise. Everything will be okay. We'll make sure that the germs are taken care of." He said patting her back.  
  
Turning to the man in rags, he said with his voice as cool as steel.  
  
"Take her to the stall. 40 lashes should keep her complex down enough for her to work. What with Franz having sent his hand through the printer we're down one worker." He pushed the girl forward. Her tearstained face meaning nothing to him. She was just another patient. A beautiful, young patient for him to devastate.  
  
A drumming filled Coulmier's ears as he was again plunged into the dirty, lukewarm water.  
  
Air.  
  
Water.  
  
Air.  
  
Water.  
  
For an hour straight, Coulmier was dunked backwards into a tub. He had learned a breathing technique so that he did not splutter every time he was pulled from the abyss. He took in a deep breath slowly before he was even in the chair. Shallow, yet even breaths expanded his lungs and as he was dunked, he slowly expelled the air through his nostrils. Arriving in the air, he would take a deep breath with his mouth slightly closed and do it again.  
  
The doctor had taken kindly to this torture as a way of showing Coulmier who was the reigning champion. A constant reminder to who beat the Marquis de Sade and who lost. Sometimes it was so much that Coulmier could not bear it. But those days were few and far between.  
  
A few halls over, he heard a shrill scream and the snap of the whip. His old punishment. He wondered who was the unfortunate this time. A woman no doubt by the tone of the cry, but who? Suddenly, a face flashed through his mind. Elise. Her dark, choppy hair and her pale skin. Was it his fault? Why was she being punished?  
  
"Oh Elise." He whispered. This lapse of collected thought would prove to cause him a moment of discomfort as he was thrust back into the water unprepared.  
  
Elise stood stark naked chained to a wall. Her face was pressed tightly to the partition that divided up the torture chambers. She'd been standing for a good few minutes. Her back stung. She could feel the damp muggy breeze in the dungeon like setting creep across her screen. Had she not been gagged, she might have screamed in fear of all the germ and bacterial diseases that would surely take her now in her wounded state. Although, the gag proved useless only moments ago as the thick black whip raped her back, she couldn't help but let the hot wave of tears stream down her puffy face.  
  
Before being strung up like a ham on Noel, the man gave Elise a swift kick in the face. She had fallen down going the stairs and in punishment for her clumsiness, a swelling and purpling bruise on her temple stretching across her forehead.  
  
The man returned. The whip must be clean. He left to clean it as Elise counted 15 lashes. The pain was blinding as he continued with the downward stroke of the whip.  
  
"So much blood from such a small person." He'd said coming much to close for comfort. His hand traced her rump and he nibbled on her ear. "Such a small, beautiful person."  
  
Elise had begun to sob. She never asked for any of this. It wasn't her fault.  
  
16  
  
17  
  
18  
  
19  
  
20 Only twenty more to go. If she learned nothing else from her father before he died, it was mathematics. She could complete a math question about as fast as it took for her father to rhyme one off. They'd spend days when she was child, walking around and adding this, subtracting that, multiplying this and dividing those. It was wonderful. All of Elise's questions could be answered with a simple mathematical equation. She loved it.  
  
By reveling in this memories, Elise has managed to escape some of the pain. Yet as soon as the memories stopped, the pain returned. A shrill scream escaped her lips before she had time to cauterize it on the gag. For her exceptionally loud outburst, the man flick the long whip doubly hard.  
  
As then, when Elise thought she could take no more, the beating stopped. The man was gone in a flash. Out of exhaustion from crying and the pain from her torture, Elise finally collapsed against the wall and out of her conscious mind.  
  
The next morning, Elise woke to the Doctor peering over her wounds. She lay on her stomach, stark naked as the previous day. Her back stung like the dickens and she felt the doctors' warm breath oxidizing her skin as he breathed close to her wounds.  
  
"She's not infected. Wrap her up, dress her, and send her down to the printing press. I'll have Gatineau explain to her what she is required to do." Collard said running a finger through one of the longer, deeper gashes.  
  
"Yes sir, no problem sir. I'm all ready." A familiar female voice agreed. Elise registered the voice as the one belonging to the Laundress. As Elise groggily tried to turn and see her friend, the doctor pushed down on her back,  
  
"Be still Elise. Lady LeClerc will help you." He hand lingered too, on her buttock, a little long. Elise flinched and felt the doctor step away.  
  
She buried her face in her pillow and awaited for the Doctor to leave her quarters. Her wish was soon granted. As soon as the door was closed, the laundress scurried forward.  
  
"Sh Lise dear. I've got some medicine that will make you feel much better."  
  
The laundress applied a thick white paste to Elise's wounds and the girl immediately felt the burning sensation decrease. The woman hummed as she worked, a tune that Elise couldn't quite place, but sounded very similar.  
  
"What of Coulmier?" she asked feebly. The laundress laid a strip of cloth over the healing cream to keep it in place as she applied the bandage. Pulling Elise into a sitting position, the laundress didn't utter a word. She motioned for Elise to raise her arms so she could wrap the bandage around her torso. Elise complied more out of calculation than desire.  
  
"Lady, Lady LeClerc" she began again, "What of Coulmier. Is he alright. Where was he headed?"  
  
The laundress smiled a weak smile.  
  
"He was in the very same chamber as you, though I daresay you did not meet. He leaves his room every day for a dose of 'treatment' requested by the doctor. Treatment, BAH. That man is one of least likely men to be insane. It's the doctor who truly belongs in that room, not poor Coulmier."  
  
"Treatment? You mean lashes?" Elise wondered, her eyes growing wide.  
  
"No dear. His fate is a much more troubled one I'm afraid. He is given water treatment. An hour or so of constant dunking. Its supposed to relax the patient but all I've ever seen it do is cause a stir. We'd do best not to mention it. Coulmier chooses to bear his burdens alone, that's how it's been since Maddy died."  
  
"Maddy?" Elise asked as the woman pulled her dress back over her head. "Madeleine? I've heard Coulmier whisper the name in his slumber. Is this the Maddy you speak of? She passed away? What happened?"  
  
The woman's eyes gleamed with tears.  
  
"My, you do ask a lot of questions." She whispered. "Yes, Maddy and Madeleine are one in the same. But I think you be getting the best answer out of Coulmier himself dear. Now, you're all patched up. Lets get you downstairs to the printing room. The doctor will be having a fit by now." 


	4. Happy Heart

Coulmier rested in his accommodations, damp and tired. One would think that you wouldn't get tired sitting in a chair being swung backwards into a dank pool, but you did. He sat with his quill and inkbottle out. He was scrawling a few sentences to teach Elise. They had finished the entire alphabet in their first lesson, but due to certain circumstances, had not had a follow up. As he scribbled, he heard the soft pattering of the laundress who was once his dear Maddy's mother.  
  
She scraped open the door and poked her head through.  
  
"Coulmier? I've brought you linens and news of Lise." She whispered.  
  
Coulmier crawled out of the dark corner and crouched near the door.  
  
"Is she alright? Did the doctor punish her?" he asked.  
  
"She's fine now. The doctor gave her 40 lashes to compensate for her outburst the other day – which if I do say myself was a tad odd. I've patched her up, but the doctor requests that she work in the printing room. Franz has accidentally run his hand through the printer. Since he's off, Collard's put the girl in as a replacement."  
  
"40 Lashes? Dear god. You say she is all right? I should hope so. When does the printing room usually end for the day? Will you take me to her tonight? I wish to see her." Coulmier rambled.  
  
"Quiet dear. Yes, she's almost good as new save a scratch here and there. They should be done right around suppertime. You shouldn't even be needing to ask if I'll take you to her. Of course the answers yes Coulmier. But not tonight. The doctor is on patrol tonight. He's having a bad bout of insomnia lately. Not sleeping and such, so as a warning I suggest you and Lise keep things very silent tonight. Tomorrow evening though, the doctor is going to a play. He should be gone for a few days as the play is out of town. I'll take you to her then. Worry not my friend. You'll see her again." The Laundress winked and left him his pile of blankets.  
  
Coulmier smiled weakly. 40 lashes? Her body looked like it barely withstood 5. He could only envision the gaping wounds on her back. The sudden recollection made him sensitive to his own scars. Softly, he ran a hand up his own chest and felt the scars that once threatened his life. Some long, others short, some extremely thick and others barely visible. Still, he remembered vividly the pain brought forth by the evil back whip. His heart felt a pang of sorrow for the girl.  
  
This sudden emotion rattled him. What was this? Could he feel more than he should with this girl? The priest still in him shouted that this was wrong, but the man inside his heart said that quite possibly, it could be more than his imagination. Time would tell, but for now, he was content having good conversations.  
  
Elise sat at the printing press and turned the lever as she'd been instructed. Beside her a short fat man with balding hair and a stench that would wake the dead sat. He fed paper onto the spool that went through the printer. A repetitive job, but nonetheless different from her daily routine therefore causing her to feel uncomfortable. The inmates stared at her. She was one of two women in the room and she was obviously the younger of them.  
  
The other woman was thin with shoulder length wiry hair. Her eyes were sunk into her puffy face and her mouth sucked inwards as if she'd eaten a lemon. Elise tried to smile and look like a contented worker but the façade proved to difficult.  
  
With every turn of the lever, Elise could almost feel the dirt and grime of the room collapsing in on her. She'd never known her disability to be so strong. Chalking it up to that conclusion that it hadn't been active for a few weeks seemed plausible. Whatever was causing her to sweat so profusely was simply her nerves having been isolated for so long. That must be it.  
  
When the whistle blew for the end of the day, her escort came and unchained her from the press only to enchain again her to a line of prisoners. She was at the end, most likely due to her room high in the tower. As they shuffled along, to ease her nerves Elise counted her steps. She calculated the distance she was walking and the using Pythagoras theorem determined the perimeter of the triangle that her legs and the floor made. They stopped frequently to dispose of an inmate here and there.  
  
Finally, it was just her and the escort. Her back seared from all the pain of standing and climbing stairs. She was almost certain that she could feel the cuts splitting further as she walked. When they reached her room, the escort threw open her door and pushed her in, a harsh hand putting force on her wounds. She screamed in agony and fell to the floor on her mat. She fell asleep from utter pain and sheer fatigue.  
  
Doctor Royer-Collard was busy packing for his trip out of town to see a few plays and all he could think of was the girl. The girl with dark hair. He almost smiled when he pictured her splayed spread eagle against the lashing wall. Her soft supple young body getting tortured.  
  
What was it about this one? There had been many female patients at Charenton before. Perhaps it was her winning smile, her young body, he mused. He quickly glanced over his desk to see if he was missing anything and saw a picture of Simone, his late wife. He brow furrowed as he remembered the young architect he'd hired to build her a home. The same young architect who stole her from him. He frowned at the picture and realized what it was about Elise.  
  
She looked exactly like Simone.  
  
Coulmier lay in wait in his room for Elise to return from her first day of labor. He needn't wait long. He soon heard the shuffling of footsteps and the groan of a door being pulled shut. When he was sure no one was near, he pried the rock loose that connected their rooms.  
  
"Elise? Elise? Are you alright?" he whispered. He heard muffled cries and sobs but saw nothing. He waited silently for her to finish. When she was ready, he saw her form sit up and disappear as she leaned against the wall.  
  
"Oh Coulmier. I'm sorry." She began apologizing.  
  
Coulmier smiled, even though she could not see it, he knew she felt it.  
  
"Sorry for what?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Sorry for getting you into trouble, for attacking you like that. I never meant to. It's just... it's really just..." her voice broke. Coulmier's smiled dropped on either side.  
  
"Its understandable. Don't worry. I've taken no offense." He tried to comfort her.  
  
"No, no its not. I should be able to keep it under control. I must. I must always make sure it is kept safe." Elise mumbled to herself.  
  
Coulmier felt his heart break as he listened to his friend. He understood what it felt like to act out occasionally. He himself has a lapse of judgment only days ago whilst being forced to endure a second hour of the dunking chair. Violent screams filled the Charenton bellows, Elise had asked but Coulmier, ashamed of his behavior, said nothing.  
  
"Look here Elise." He whispered. "I've made up some new reading and writing lessons for you. Here! Take them." He rolled them lengthways and slid them through. Soon following was a quill dipped in ink.  
  
He heard her hiccup and he thought he saw a small smile.  
  
"Oh Coulmier, you always know how to make me grin." She hiccupped again.  
  
As she said those words, Coulmier felt his heart tighten with a happiness he hadn't felt in a very long time. 


	5. Perfect

Collard paced the halls. The iron doors creaked and it seemed like the stone palace was swaying with the wind. He was on patrol only until his carriage arrived to take him into the next town where he'd attend a fine arts night the following day. It was invitation only, and he was not too conceited that he didn't consider himself grateful of the request of audience.  
  
As he paced, his mind again trailed to Elise. Simone. They looked so alike. Although small differences; eye colour, slight facial lengths that were measurable, and Elise's pallor compared to exotic Simone's made them noticeably different, they were still memorably similar. But it was in vain, Collard saw his Simone in the young patient. In her movements, her demeanor, her gaze.  
  
He shook his head; he would not worry himself with tiresome memories now. Right now, he thought, my carriage should be arriving. And with that, he ventured off into the night struck asylum to collect his things.  
  
Elise woke with a start. She was face down again; her back ached oh so much. The old laundress lay at her side with a bowl of water that tried unsuccessfully to look soapy. She held a damp cloth and a smaller bowl filled with the white paste. Fresh bandages were strung across her neck and she looked down at Elise, beaming like a mother would a newborn child even though Elise knew she was as blind as a bat in daylight.  
  
"Good morning child." She said happily. Elise broke a small smile and laid her head down on the pillow so all she saw was the woman's knees.  
  
"Good morning." she mumbled.  
  
"I've brought ye some clean bandages and some fresh water. Just relax." The laundress said quietly pulling back the sheet from Elise's body. Elise shuddered as the cloth tickled her skin as it was removed. The old woman left the sheet at her waist and instructed Elise to stretch out her arms. Elise did as she was told.  
  
The woman slid the dress up the length of her body and over her shoulders. It was much more awkward the second time around, Elise thought back to the first time she was applied bandages naught a day ago. The laundress pulled at the base of the bandages around her lower back and put a small tear in them so she could remove them quickly. In a sharp move, as fast a cat, she ripped them off and let them fall to either side of her patient.  
  
Elise gasped in pain, but there was none. The woman was so effective in removal of the bandage that all Elise felt was a tingling sensation where they had once been. Her cuts felt dry on her back; she laid very still in fear that the slightest movement would rip them open yet again. As the woman applied the cream, Elise wondered what to say.  
  
"How are you today?" she began.  
  
The laundress replied with a grin.  
  
"Just fine child. Just fine. How be you?"  
  
"Tired, and lonely." Elise said before she could check her words.  
  
"Now, why would ye be lonely? You've got lil 'ole me and Coulmier to talk to. Coulmier's a fine fellow. I've known him for quite some time, much longer than he's been a patient here. He was once the Abbe of this very-" the laundress stopped short, realizing she'd said too much in her enthusiasm for a tête-à-tête. She quickly bound the last of the bandages and sat back, folding her hands.  
  
"What did you say?" Elise said incredulously. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her back.  
  
"Nothing dear, no matters of your business. Forget what I said, lets concentrate on those cuts." The laundress said, groping for the young girl. Elise slid out of reachable grasp and backed against the wall, for all the pain it caused, the cool stone was oddly comforting.  
  
"Coulmier, my Coulmier was Abbe of Charenton?" she asked. Then she heard the words in her head. My Coulmier. They rang in her ears. She saw the old woman smile, a weak and bitter smile.  
  
"Yes, yes dear. Coulmier before you knew him was a great man of God. A wondrous, caring, generous and honorable man. He loved this place almost as much as he loved-"she stopped short.  
  
"Loved what?" Elise begged. This was news. Coulmier, Abbe of Charenton? She could see it, but she could not believe it.  
  
The laundress groped for her doctoring things and collected them, spilling some water on the floor. She stood and shuffled her way to the door. Elise crawled after her.  
  
"Please, tell me. I've never told a secret in my life!" she begged, pulling at the woman's dress lightly.  
  
"Child let go!" the laundress said angrily, immediately regretting it. She turned her head down to look at the girl curled around her feet, she could not see her, but she envisioned her laying there, here eyes pleading with the woman for answers. But not now. She couldn't give them now, it wasn't her place. "I'm sorry Elise. I didn't mean to get upset. You just touched a nerve, that's all. I've told you before, if you want all the answers, speak to Coulmier."  
  
Elise felt her lip tremble as she watched the Laundress shuffle through the doorway.  
  
"But I promised not to..." she whispered as the door shut and the laundress locked the door. She let her head droop until it touched the chilled rock floor and as it had become a regular habit – cried.  
  
That night, Elise lay in bed. She hadn't needed to work today. Collard had shut down the press for while he was gone. She lay on her stomach with her head on her arms. She was examining the block of granite in front of her and trying to estimate how thick it was to the other side so she could figure out the volume of the stone and then move on to the volume of her very room.  
  
She heard the iron bolt creak as it opened and she slowly rolled over so that her lash wounds were not too deeply disturbed. The window a few feet above her head shone into the room and stopped short a few feet from the blackened door way.  
  
"You've got one hour Coulmier." She heard a voice whisper.  
  
"I understand Lady LeClerc."  
  
Elise peered into the blackness and it was feet she saw first. Bare feet that soon turned into a young man. Her door bolted shut behind him and she sat up clutching her thin sheet to her chest.  
  
"Coulmier?" she whispered. The young man stepped out of the shadows and smiled.  
  
"None other." He replied.  
  
Elise rose quickly to her feet to embrace her friend. Her arms reached around his neck and Coulmier was at a loss of what to do. Finally, he settled with his hands on her lower back, close to but not touching her buttocks. While the priest in his head shouted at him for the blasphemy, he couldn't help but notice how well she fit into his arms.  
  
"How are you?" she questioned. He smiled and took her hands.  
  
"Quite well now that I see you're doing fine." He said.  
  
"Here have a seat," Elise whispered excitedly. This was the first time they'd ever seen each other face to face. The hall encounter didn't count because she wasn't completely observant and she was sure Coulmier wasn't either. The midnight comfort didn't count either because there was no moon to exploit their features. She'd merely looked for a shape, a form for which to embrace.  
  
There was a second of silence.  
  
Coulmier sat on the straw mat so similar to his own and he studied the young woman's face. Looking at her, he realized she was not much younger than his own 24. Her skin was pale, a small cut on her lip was still slightly puffy and oozing, but it was mostly clear. Her eyes were a brilliant blue and her hair, he'd seen its long luxuriousness upon her arrival, and he'd glimpsed it after being cut, but in the few weeks she'd been here, it had grown a good few inches and the once shattered locks were softly layering her gamine face. That face sat upon a small-framed body. Not very thin, but appropriately proportioned so she looked minutely healthy. Her wrists still worn raw from the irons were slowly healing. In a instant he saw that she was truly beautiful. A full pouted smile shone at him, and for a moment he thought that her very smile could lead him to heaven.  
  
On the opposite, Elise was quietly taking in all that was Coulmier. His strong jaw line showed fantastic bone structure. His skin was as pale as her own. Her eyes roamed his face and she noticed his nose was slightly crooked, but she knew – as he'd explained it weeks ago – that it had been broken as a child while he was playing handball with a friend. His eyes wore a pale green that shimmered in the glittering darkness. She saw that his hair hung in thick loose waves just under his ear. Something about his hair made her want to thrust her hands into the black mess of locks and feel the weight of it in her hands. His eyes made her want to blush and giggle like a little girl, but she simply smiled. This was her Coulmier. Yes, it felt right saying that in her head. Her Coulmier. Her truest friend. His head tapered into wide shoulders and arms that were not necessarily muscular, but you could tell he was a strong man. He wore a stained tunic and tattered black pants, the standard Charenton uniform for men. She looked down at her own knee length, shapeless outfit and smirked.  
  
For a moment, just a moment, it seemed that everything was perfect. 


End file.
