Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - IX. Back to Paris
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rigolo. Would I like a bottle of champagne
taken up to her room?
Flopette was sitting before her mirror hard
at work to cover her face with rouge. She
sprang from her chair, snatched a shawl to hide
her appalling full undress uniform and stared at
me with a face of a clown, with patches of rouge
on her cheeks, one eye black with kohl, the other
red with tears.
“‘No, she is not dead, but she is very bad.
The nun who is on night duty is worn out, I
have told her I would bring one of my nurses
for tonight. Scrape off that horrible paint from
your face, straighten out your hair with oil or
vaseline or whatever you like, take off your
dreadful muslin gown and put on the nurse’s
uniform you will find in this parcel. I have
just borrowed it from one of my nurses, I think
it will do, you are about the same size. I shall
come back and fetch you in half-an-hour.’” She
stared speechless at me as I went downstairs.
“‘Already,’” said the matron looking very
surprised. I told her I wanted Mademoiselle
Flopette to spend the night with me, I was
coming back to fetch her. As I drove up before
the house half-an-hour later Flopette appeared
in the open door in the long cloak of a nurse
surrounded by all the ladies in their muslin
uniforms of Nothing-at-all.
“‘Aren’t you lucky, old girl,’” they giggled in
chorus, “‘to be taken to the Bal Masqué the last
night of carnival, you look very chic and quite
respectable, I wish your monsieur would take
us all!’”
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