The Art of Death
“She wanted to scream. Madeleine Harrod! What was she doing here at this ungodly hour?
“Arrêter cette!” she ordered as she unlocked two deadbolts, released the chain, and opened the door. “Stop that. It’s uncivilized. What are you doing here” -- checking her cellphone -- “at almost one in the morning?”
As Madeleine pushed into the entry, Babette glimpsed a taxi pulling away.
“Oh, Babette. Help me. I can’t be alone.”
Babette took her time shutting the door, setting the deadbolts, and replacing th...e chain. She needed a moment to think. The woman in fact looked pasty white, her carefully arranged pixie askew, as if she’d seen a ghost. But that meant nothing. Une crise de nerfs, Babette thought. Another fit of hysterics. Artist or not, Madeleine’s overwrought moods wore out even her most tolerant friends. “Why can’t you be alone?”
“Is Anthony here?”
“Non.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mais bien sûr,” Babette said indignantly.
“Where is Arnaud?”
Babette shrugged.MoreLess
“Arrêter cette!” she ordered as she unlocked two deadbolts, released the chain, and opened the door. “Stop that. It’s uncivilized. What are you doing here” -- checking her cellphone -- “at almost one in the morning?”
As Madeleine pushed into the entry, Babette glimpsed a taxi pulling away.
“Oh, Babette. Help me. I can’t be alone.”
Babette took her time shutting the door, setting the deadbolts, and replacing th...e chain. She needed a moment to think. The woman in fact looked pasty white, her carefully arranged pixie askew, as if she’d seen a ghost. But that meant nothing. Une crise de nerfs, Babette thought. Another fit of hysterics. Artist or not, Madeleine’s overwrought moods wore out even her most tolerant friends. “Why can’t you be alone?”
“Is Anthony here?”
“Non.”
“You’re sure?”
“Mais bien sûr,” Babette said indignantly.
“Where is Arnaud?”
Babette shrugged.MoreLess
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