Episode 21
Winning someone’s favor is an extremely difficult task. It is even more so if the other party has reached a level of mastery in flattery.
Madame de Lavallier despised sweet words such as falsehoods, flattery, and sycophancy. She loved honesty like an iron wall and valued the pure white integrity flowing from an upright heart more than any jewel.
That was understandable, as she had reigned as the queen of society for over a decade. She must have heard all sorts of flowery language expressible in words to the point of exhaustion. It was strange that she wasn’t tired of the desires clumped together like mud.
Therefore, what I could say to her was unrefined, pure language. Even if it made me seem somewhat rustic and crude.
Fortunately, the elegance I showed at our first meeting was the product of desperate efforts not to disgrace the Wischwaltz family’s reputation, and my attitude of revealing my own flaws—that my original shell was no different from a commoner—satisfied Madame de Lavallier.
She was very pleased to confirm that I, her mother’s daughter, was an unpolished gem.
“There is still room for improvement.”
Her eyes, as she lifted my chin with the end of her fan and spoke softly, were sharper than those of a jeweler appraising a gem.
Is this what it means to be stripped naked by a gaze? The fear and helplessness my mother must have felt come through clearly.
At the same time, I felt ecstasy. She was the very arrogant woman I had longed for. Reigning like a queen, ruling like a tyrant, yet being worshiped like a faith!
“The blood flowing in your body is vulgarity itself. It is like a brand that will follow you until you die. Everyone will point fingers at you and mock you. Some might even sneer to your face. But endure it. Swallow it sweetly, as it is the humiliation you deserve. Fear the filth of your bloodline and constantly remind yourself of what is attached behind your name. Suffer, fall, and despair repeatedly in the dilemma between the baseness of your origin and the nobility of the Wischwaltz surname. Only when you have endured all this can you proudly say that one layer has been peeled off.”
Madame de Lavallier’s education was strictness itself, then and now.
By driving me harshly, she tried to make me understand the shame brought by the nickname of being my mother’s daughter. Only then could I know the weight and responsibility of the Wischwaltz surname.
Madame de Lavallier’s willingness to take me in and educate me was because she did not want to tarnish the name ‘Wischwaltz.’
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have disciplined me so strictly. Through my existence, she sought to restore the family’s honor stained by my mother.
I can’t guarantee how well that would work in society, but she had resolved to prevent any further disgrace.
“To become a lady of a noble family, you must remember the following. Your actions should be like flowers, your face gentle like a spring breeze, and you should treat others with honey on your lips. Your fingertips should be light as if handling an instrument, yet natural like flowing water, and your steps should be smooth as if oiled on the soles. Making noise while walking is something only the lowly do! Your waist should be straight like a tree yet soft like a reed, and your arms should be elegant like silk drapery flowing to the floor.”
Becoming a girl is natural, but becoming a lady requires painstaking effort.
After deciding to teach me, Madame de Lavallier’s actions were unhesitant. She devoted all her time in a day to me, except for sleeping.
From the basics of walking properly to the minutiae of inhaling and exhaling breath, there was nothing untouched by her hand. Even the small time of turning my head, moments close to a few seconds, were conducted under Lavallier’s strict guidance.
Thanks to that, even the number of wrinkles in the skirt hem when sitting in a chair was under her control.
Madame de Lavallier drove me to the extreme to the point of recalling the word harsh. For each action I imitated, the word ‘again’ flowed out hundreds of times. For some, I had to hear ‘again’ close to a thousand times.
Even just the action of sweeping up the hair falling over my forehead was repeated sixty or seventy times, so need I say more?
Everything was subject to correction. Madame de Lavallier showed sharpness in pointing out not only the crude gestures I deliberately showed for her sake but also actions I wasn’t even aware of, ingrained naturally like breathing.
This came as a great fortune to me, because although I had mastered etiquette from past experiences, I had never reached the true level that Madame de Lavallier demonstrated, so her pointers were a great help.
Madame expressed all the education she was giving me as ‘making a beast human-like.’ It was a somewhat radical expression that didn’t match her usual words and actions, but her face as she said it was very natural and even haughty.
The pride underlying it was so radiant as to overwhelm everyone, conversely drawing agreement from others.
Because of this, there were people whispering, ‘How messy must Sishe de Wischwaltz’s behavior be for her to say that?’ The choice and fit of words referring to a girl just beginning to bloom were as rough as those of street ruffians.
But the expression ‘beast’ that Madame de Lavallier used was not a metaphor for my behavior. It referred to my immature eyes that couldn’t hide my feelings toward her.
It was an elegant mockery of the pitiful blood that writhes violently every time it hears the words dirty blood but struggles to hide it, unable to do anything.
“Unlike your mother, you have quickness and agility. Moreover, you have patience beyond your age and are cleverly trying to cater to my tastes with your actions. But how should I interpret the ferocity you’ve shown me? I warn you, do not bare your teeth recklessly. It’s enough to hide thorns under your tongue. Is there anyone more foolish than one who reveals emotions with their eyes? So endure. Endure and endure again. There’s nothing more you can do, so no need to make enemies unnecessarily, right?”
I shrank under the sharp gaze pouring down my back and smiled silently. I couldn’t help but smile because through the part she mentioned, I finally realized what weapon I truly needed to complete.
The beast taught the snake how to use its teeth efficiently. The snake, unaware of how sharp its teeth were and how terrifying the poison in them, realizes through the leopard that its weapon is more powerful than any beast’s.
Hiss hiss. The snake narrows its eyes and smiles contentedly. The act of flicking its tongue is threatening, as if it would devour the beast before it at any moment.
However, the snake heeds Lavallier’s advice, bides its time, and waits for the future. Just as she said, with a smiling eye!
“Yes, aunt.”
Because the one who will stand proudly with a victorious smile in the future will surely be me.
Had several days passed like that?
Only around the time I heard from Madame de Lavallier that ‘it’s finally barely acceptable’ was the ‘exhibition,’ her original purpose, held.
It was a festival for artists and inventors, providing opportunities to gather and sponsor promising talents, and it was the time Madame de Lavallier loved most.
The past Lavallier would have gone to the exhibition with only Roena. Roena also enjoyed appreciating art as much as she did.
But the current Lavallier decided to go to the exhibition with not only Roena but also me.
To her, ‘acceptable level’ meant not embarrassing to be with, so she needed an opportunity to show off the beast she had painstakingly trained to the world.
“Wouldn’t it be shameful if a woman with the Wischwaltz surname couldn’t even appreciate a single painting? So, it’s good to broaden your shallow knowledge through such opportunities.”
As she said, I bowed my head and quietly agreed. From past experiences, I could confidently say I was somewhat proficient in paintings, but I thought it was important to show her the still immature Sishe.
There is no opponent as attractive as a ‘gem’ that can be shaped to one’s taste.
But if I had known that Rustein Halberd was among the knights accompanying us to the exhibition hall, I wouldn’t have followed so easily.
Ah, why doesn’t the heart, though an entity attached to my body, move easily according to my thoughts and will?
I thought I had sorted everything out by discarding the handkerchief, but the moment I laid eyes on his shadow, there was a gaze crumbling on its own. There were fingertips suddenly turning cold.
Unable to do anything about my rapidly drying lips and violently shaking eyes, I only breathed heavily. Thinking I couldn’t tell if the sweat flowing down my spine was from tension or fear.
***
In the past, someone told me.
To nobles, art is merely an accessory to flaunt their intellectual beauty.
It meant how many among those who claim to enjoy art truly understand it deeply.
What’s so boastful about indiscriminately buying paintings of similar styles to follow trends, enjoying operas with popular tunes, and bringing in useless foreign furniture.
But dare I say, what else besides ‘art’ can reveal our dignity. The way to boast of one’s intellectual elegance, high-class taste, and unique yet refined hobbies incomparable to others is only this foolish vanity.
Especially for ones like me, we have no choice but to cling to ‘art.’ Because this is the only way to prove we are people who fit into their world.
The exhibition hall I attended with Madame de Lavallier was both a showcase to boast of me, the gem she had polished, and a stage to test my artistic aesthetic sense.
There is no one in society who doesn’t know Madame de Lavallier! Therefore, there was no way that I, the existence attached to her side, wouldn’t catch eyes.
As soon as Lavallier entered the exhibition hall, she pointed to several paintings that caught her eye and asked for my thoughts.
“What do you think of that painting?”
She knew that the surrounding people were whispering all sorts of things while guessing my identity. And that they were measuring and judging my every move.
So, by preemptively revealing the value of the beast she had tamed, she sought to subdue their arrogance.
“It’s a beautiful painting with bright and vibrant colors as if overlaid with light. I like how the strolling woman is expressed delicately yet elegantly. Except for the regret that the dress she’s wearing doesn’t follow the current fashion. This painting needs to be more sensory. It would have been nice to draw something with an exotic flavor.”
My answer was quite simple. Without embellishing with all sorts of flowery language to critique the style or express the profound philosophy implied in the painting, I just spoke honestly as it was.
The vast knowledge in my head and the aesthetic sense from past experiences didn’t even have a chance to leap onto my tongue.
That was because most of the painters at the exhibition were rookies carefully selected from the academy. They were pitiful lambs who had no choice but to paint pictures to suit the tastes of nobles to find sponsors. So, how could I find meaning in this and critique it!
☆☆☆☆
By Anna 💓
