The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthazar B

3

At noon the air still, a white light and dust across Paris. Little groups collecting in boulangeries down dark streets. Big cats asleep in shoemakers' windows. Three long black automobiles turning into an entrance in Avenue George V. A pale delicate tree in the midday darkness, long smooth branches reaching up past windows to a playful sky blue.

The air cool inside the high wide thick doors. Balthazar's mother in her black laces, veils and chiffons ascends alone in the tiny lift. There she is as we come puffing up five flights of wide pink marble stairs, curved and gleaming. Uncle Edouard frowning and pursing his lips at the mechanical marvel. Where are we going nannie, now. Who is that man with mommie. These are lawyers. What are lawyers. They are men who look things up in big books.

"Why."

"To be safe."

"Why."

"Because you must always try to be safe."

"Am I safe nannie."

"Yes."

"Are you safe nannie."

"No."

"Why."

"We must be quiet now."

"I don't like lawyers, nannie."

"No one likes lawyers, little boy."

The big brown eyed soft faced man bowed at the door and led these five people and little Balthazar across the red blue and gold carpet of this high domed marble pillared foyer. Down a long oak panelled hall past portraits of ministers, presidents and kings. He held out an arm at a doorway into a wide pale pink low ceilinged room and nodded as each passed by his secret face and soft silken cuffs held by wafers of golden links. Three all black straw hatted women entering, each with thick greying thatches of dark hair bobbed across foreheads, each fluttering fans against their veiled faces, and taking seats in the last row of chairs as Uncle Edouard put his cupped hand to his mouth and emitted a long vibrating belch.

A great glass topped table stacked with ribboned documents and a black strong box with Balthazar's father's name written in silver. Balthazar's mother in the centre front row of chairs, crossing her long black stockinged legs, and her hand tugging the edge of her skirt down on her knee. She turned to Balthazar, patting the seat next to hers. He shook his head and held nannie's hand. The door closed and the key turned in the lock. The lawyer put on his glasses and nodded and waited and a man came to nannie's ear. He whispered and she dropped Balthazar's hand, stood and moved towards the door. Balthazar with blazing eyes and clenched fists.

"Stay nannie, stay with me."

"She cannot little boy."

"She must she must."

Out the window a sudden cooling breeze blowing over the tree tops. Great grey thundery clouds collecting. Uncle Edouard raising a right arm and flickering his hand.

"But of course nannie should stay."

The Maitre looking over the faces until he nodded towards Balthazar and then to nannie and then to Uncle Edouard who leaned forward over her shoulder.

"Balthazar, the little boy, perhaps he would give the signal to begin, it is technical of course."

"Begin."

"Ah like the father, he has authority as well as anger."

A cool breeze pushed out the heavy green drapes at the windows. The clouds growing greyer and sky darker as Maitre's voice was raised above the honking traffic in the street below. Who are those three ladies nannie. They are your aunts from the country. What are they holding. They are holding jars of honey. Why. Shush you must listen to Maitre. What do hotchpot and trustee mean nannie. They mean important things. Why do you squeeze up your forehead nannie, it doesn't make you look nice. I know but shush now.

"I want to wee wee. You must come and hold it for me."

Maitre lowering his manuscript. Balthazar standing and pulling nannie by the hand. A young man turning the key and opening the door and leading them along the hall.

"Come in nannie."

"Go yourself."

"No."

"O God."

"You must not say o God. You must hold it for me. I do not want to be unkind to you nannie, but I will shout if you don't. Now that I am awfully rich you must do what I tell you."

Balthazar returning with nannie across these soft carpets. Maitre reads on. A heavy rain falling on Paris. Winds sweeping over the chestnut trees and lightning streaking bright blue across the rooftops. Maitre flinching at the splintering shatter of thunder. The young man in the grey suit and flattened gleaming black hair closed the windows. Uncle Edouard taking deep breaths and sighing, ah ozone, ozone. The last page turned over. Maitre looked over the top of his glasses and laid the white and red beribboned document on his desk. The little assembly sat in stillness. Maitre cleared his throat and pulled slowly at the end of his nose.

"Are there any questions, please."

Uncle Edouard putting back his arms and yawning loudly.

"Ah yes, why are men more fond of dogs than other men."

"Monsieur I think that is perhaps on this occasion out of my arrondissement to answer."

"I am happy to withdraw the question. Lawyers, ah yes, they have courage. But only when it is time to send the bill. It is time by my watch for my steam bath. Besides I always like to be only five minutes away from my camembert in case it is the end of the world and only a little Beaujolais is left. Gevrey Chambertin."

The little gathering rose. The young man unlocking the door. Uncle Edouard taking a stance, heel clicking the ladies departure. The jars of honey placed in nannie's hands. The three aunts each in turn patting Balthazar on the head. Their fat black new shoes sticking out from their long black skirts. One held a cane, and had big brown teeth when she smiled.