On a cold winter night, as I was walking in the mist a street that wasn't familiar to me, I felt tiredness suddenly strike me. Though being a moderate walker, I was forced to stop as my chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe. I sat on a bench and got lost in thoughts. The haze was so thick that I couldn't even make out the moon. Suddenly, my musing was interrupted when a woman appeared. She was pale and blond and dressed in a strange but rather elegant way. I couldn't really describe the expression on her face. Some kind of melancholy twisted her exquisite features. She gave me a white dazzling smile and made a gesture for me to follow her. I then felt an irresistible urge to let her take me wherever she wanted. Her figure was mingling with the steam escaping from between my lips. It seemed to me that I couldn't control my body anymore, everything was like in a dream. My legs moved in spite of myself to come with her. I was kind of hypnotized by her penetrating gaze.
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Bewitched, puppet, almost sleepwalking, I followed her to an old house located in the corner of the street. When we went through the creaking gate, I felt shivers run through me. However, behind the heavy oaken door, the abode was heated well, even though I didn't see any fireplace. It seemed useless to look for some radiator as the decoration was so old that I felt like in a Jane Austen novel. Hearing the sound of voices, my legs took me to a large living room without being invited there by my host. It was as if my body already knew what I had to do without needing to check the rules of courtesy. I felt happy in this place, as if it were exactly where I was intended to be. The house – which could be called a mansion – was filled with guests to what looked like some kind of masquerade ball for the high society. Men and women dressed elegantly were joyfully talking and laughing. Some of them were even dancing to some traditional music which was resonating in the whole room. I caught some bits of conversation as I slid between the guests:
“Have you seen Madame de Linois lately ?”
“Yes, she was telling me about her husband having to go to...”
“How is your sister doing, my dear Églantine ?”
“Better, it is very nice of you to ask. The doctor instructed him to rest...”
“You know, material trade is flourishing in Spain these days...”
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As I was getting closer to the back of the room, I felt my legs become heavy and I got more and more hot. A young woman was sat on a silk chair. She appeared to be waiting for me. She was wearing a pale green dress with floral patterns. Heavy lace was hanging from her sleeves. The dress was cut – if I remember it well – à la française. She smiled at me and extended her hand. I took it delicately and couldn't help but notice how fresh it was compared to the unbearable heat of the room. She led me to what served as a dance-floor and we started swaying. At first, she just looked at me in silence while I observed the white faces which were blending together as the pace quickened. My eyes went from one person to another to the same rhythm than the swirling petticoats around us. Soon, the shapes became hazy and I couldn't distinguish the face of my lovely dance-partner. It seemed to me that her eyes – which had been gleaming at the beginning of our dance – had turned glazed. She smiled again, the move brightening her pallid face, and finally spoke to me in a hushed voice:
“Do you like this party, sir ? Are you happy to have been invited ? Did you know that it was thanks to me ?”
I answered with a stammer that I didn't know she had done me this favour while I didn't even know her but that I was really grateful.
“I could not have done without a guest like you.” she said “After all, we do need some to remember.”
I wanted to answer that I had no idea what she meant but she spoke again: “Do you know Monsieur de Roüalle ? He is an awfully nasty man who absolutely loathes my aunt.” she pointed at the woman I had met in the street what seemed now like centuries ago despite only being a few hours ago. “He is so jealous of her property that he always tries to destroy her reputation by spreading odious rumours about her and ruining her receptions. He is vile, believe me, and always gets what he wants. I am sure that he is preparing something right now to harm us.” Her eyes were full of such sincerity that had to believe her. At this moment, I could have agreed to anything she would have asked from me.
“I don't know how one could show him that he is fighting people more noble than him and that his attempts will stay unsuccessful.”
“Maybe you should play a trick on him as well. In this way, he would understand that it is useless to persist.”
“Yes, a revenge.” A fire seemed to ignite in her eyes as she pronounced this word and, once again, my body was overwhelmed by a wave of heat. Right then, the bells started ringing. It was three o'clock. “Oh, it's time” said my young dance-partner “Thankfully, we are finished right on time.”
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Before I could ask what she was talking about, the heat got so intense that it blinded me for a few seconds. I was forced to close my eyelids for a while. When I opened my eyes again, through my tears, I saw the young woman, paler than ever, give me a pleading look. She put a small piece of paper in my left hand. Hers was dry and burning. I then heard terrible screaming behind me. Once I had recovered my sight, I turned around and, to my own astonishment, realized that the walls of the house were turning black. The tapestries on the walls were peeling from the heat, always more ardent. The faces of the guests were becoming more and more waxy, livid. Even their attires were loosing their colours, turning to an almost see-through white. The seams were fraying, the fabrics disintegrating. Their bodies were losing all consistency, as if only their souls lingered. All the faces were bleeding into one ghostly, spectral shape with seemed to be launching itself at me. Then, I blinked and everything disappeared. I was now standing on a pile of ashes. The magnificent walls were in ruins, the vases and glassware had shattered into a thousand pieces on the greyish floor, the sumptuous framework was only debris and powder at my feet. Clouds of dust darkened my vision but I could still make out the shape of the stairs – or what was left of it – that is to say the first steps and the burnt out banister. It seemed that everything that made the splendour, the grandeur, the prestige of this building had gone up into smoke, just like hope had melted inside my heart. So I took a deep breath of this dusty and dirty air and my sight became blurred again but, this time, my knees buckled and I lost consciousness.
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When I woke up, I was back on the bench where I had been solicited. Taking a look around me, I realized that the sun was slowly rising. What kind of strange dream had taken me ? I let my eyes wander for a while, recalling some details of the dream – which, surprisingly, came back to me without the slightest difficulty – when I saw it. Steady, large and splendid. The house. But it looked nothing like the one in my dream. It seemed new and modern. I didn't know why but I had never noticed that house before. Well, it was really apart from the road. I took a few steps to reach the mail box, wanting to know the identity of its owner, and read: Monsieur et Madame de Roüalle. Suddenly, I felt something inside my left fist, which had stayed clenched since my waking. It was a piece of paper. It was yellowish and its corners had turned black – as if it had been pushed too close to a flame – but I still could see it was a fabric of great quality. On it, someone had written with a quill in an elegant writing: “Remember”.
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