Read Online Amandine by Marlena de Blasi - Free Book Online Page B

she gossips with the birds, standing under some branch where they perch, nodding, chirping. She answers them. They her. In the furrows beneath the vines, violets grow and, one by one, she gathers them—only the darkest blue ones will do. Lining up the gossamer stems in her trembling palm, she takes them to Solange to tie up with a blade of meadow grass. Wind it round and round, a one-loop bow, and there it is. Her nose yellowed from dipping it into wildflowers, leaves tangled in her sweaty curls, cheeks red from the labors of her forage, she is pleased.
Pour Mater
, she tells Solange.
    On Saturday mornings Solange pushes the child in the upright pram down the steep chalk white road to the village, to the shops, to the park, to the library. Everywhere they go, they are greeted with affectionate curiosity. The orphan delivered to St.-Hilaire years ago in a limousine, her infant self preceded by a royal court’s worth of possessions, her tiny soul baptized by the bishop himself. Yes, this Amandine, such a bright, sanguine little girl, she along with this handsome young
Champenoise
who tends to her so lovingly, they cause a quiet stir among the villagers.
    “Ah, Mademoiselle Solange, let us have a look at darling Amandine. A pistachio macaroon for your
goûter
? Here, yes, you may take it, it’s for you. Such wonderful eyes, this little girl. Yes, a meter of the
rose-colored wool will do nicely for a spring jacket with a little cape. White cotton stockings, three pair. A box of soaps shaped like stars from Marseille, a bottle of almond oil. Your first pair of boots, can you button them? That’s right, just like that. And you, Mademoiselle Solange, how well our sweet southern air agrees with you
. Au revoir. Au revoir.”

CHAPTER X

    O N A MORNING LATE IN APRIL, BAPTISTE HAD PERFORMED HIS monthly controls on Amandine. The consultant specialist, Nitchmann, had also participated in the examination, as he did twice each year. Once they were finished, the two doctors left Solange to wash away the petroleum jelly from Amandine’s tiny chest in the places where the cardiograph’s wire suctions had been placed, to dress her then so she might go to play the xylophone that Baptiste kept for her in the lowest drawer of his desk. The doctors then left to walk in the garden.
    Solange thought they’d stayed away too long and began to imagine—
how long their faces, how silent they were
—that their findings must be grave. Though Baptiste had always been tentative with his prognosis, frugal with his hope, Solange had begun to believe that some miracle would make the surgery unnecessary. Amandine played on the xylophone, Solange paced, allowed herself a glance into the garden each time she passed the window. Finally the two reentered,sat rather stiffly, Baptiste behind his desk, Nitchmann in a chair beside Solange.
    “Amandine, please put that away now and come to sit with me, with us,” said Solange.
    Silently, Amandine did what she was asked.
    It was Baptiste who spoke first. “Well, my lovelies. Doctor Nitchmann and I have been talking about your birthday gift, Amandine, and we were wondering if you had a particular desire. After all, a fifth birthday is quite a milestone.”
    While Baptiste took Amandine out into the garden so she might demonstrate under which tree she would like her new swing to be, Nitchmann sat with Solange. He told her, “The imperfections in her heart remain. Yet the heart itself—her heart—performs
normally
. Within normal limits. Let me say it another way: her heart has
dominated
its congenital defects. Overcome them.
It seems that it has overcome them
. It’s not as though I’ve never seen this sort of compensation, because I have. But I admit that earlier on I wasn’t expecting Amandine to be one of those
fois insolites
, unusual cases. And so what does this mean? It means that you may, slowly, allow her to increase her activities. Stay alert to the signs of distress. You know them all too well.