Facing the Lion. Simone Arnold-Liebster

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      DECEMBER 1936

      As I stood on a chair, my mother knelt down, pinning the seam of the vaporous white tulle angel costume with two wings attached to the back. I repeated my lines over and over again. Mademoiselle had asked my parents if I could be in a group of Catholic youth called the “Skylarks.” Under the direction of our parish priest, I was chosen right away to have a part in a theater play for Christmas—as Gabriel the archangel. Little by little, I got so involved that my Halloween nightmares of hellfire were extinguished. I felt sunny again.

      I was so excited that it was hard to sleep. It was December 24th, the night the Christchild would come. I was determined to stay awake. In the middle of the night, Mother called me out of bed. A soft light flowed from the dining room. Mother combed my hair, had me put on my housecoat, and said, “The Christchild came by. Let’s go and see what he brought you.”

      I hardly could believe it! In the corner of the room, he had put a small pine tree adorned with little burning candles reflecting in glass balls and covered all over with glittering wreaths. Under its branches were some oranges and nuts. As I got closer, I found a baby carriage and a beautiful doll. “Mum! Dad! Look! the Christchild knew exactly what I wanted!” Mum was right when she told our curious neighbor who had asked what I had ordered: “A gift cannot be ordered, and the Christchild knows what Simone desires and deserves!”

      The doll sat there with outstretched arms, pleading for a mum. And the Christchild knew I yearned for a daughter. I took my doll and right away named her Claudine.

      The next day was our Christmas performance. The curtain fell after the first act. More than the applause from the audience, the teacher’s congratulations gave me confidence for the longer act to come. So many times I had dreamed that I was on the stage with an open mouth and no voice!

      During the intermission, Aunt Eugenie came to get me. “Leave your angel wings here and come with me. You have plenty of time.”

      Aunt Eugenie worked as a governess for the Koch family. “The Kochs want to meet you. They are with your parents in the loge on the balcony.”

      In the dim light, I could hardly see the balcony. It had a strange musty odor and red velvet chairs; the place was tiny. Mr. Koch got up, bent over, and extended his right hand to me. He said, “I’m honored to meet such a nice, capable little lady.” He took my hand and kissed it gently. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Happily, Mrs. Koch added, “and how beautifully dressed too!”

      “Yes, I am, because Mum made this dress for me!” I loved my black velvet dress with a garland of little pink roses all around the little jacket, and I was proud to let everyone know about it.

      Suddenly the loge door opened. Henriette, a poor mentally ill girl, stood in the doorway, a basket hanging around her neck. She trembled all over. With begging eyes, she pushed the basket under someone’s nose. “Buy a little raffle, please, please. You will win.” Everyone in the loge bought one, then she ran out. She went to the next loge. A solitary man waved his hand and shook his head “no. ” She blushed and ran away. Poor girl! How terrible! I felt so bad for her. Mother, disgusted, stared at the man. I followed Mother’s eyes and recognized our parish priest.

      The bell rang for the next act. I had to leave. The lights slowly dimmed. I passed Henriette, coming back down the hallway. The priest had called her back in.

      The play was a success. The curtain fell after the last act, but rose again right away. We were called back onto the stage. Some of us had to step forward. The applause filled my eyes with tears. The city theater was packed and everyone was clapping. I felt like running away, yet my feet were as heavy as if they were nailed down. The red velvet curtain came down again. Everyone left, but someone had to take me by the hand. I was worn out and I longed to go home and crawl under the covers.

      Mum, who had come behind the stage, kissed me and took me in her arms. I felt her body, stiff and tense. Something had made Mum very upset. With indignation, she said to the theater manager, “Simone will not be in the play again, and I am taking her out of the Skylark girls group. I do not raise a girl to expose her!”

      “What do you mean?” the manager asked with surprise.

      “You should have seen what happened in the loge next to us!” (The priest had abused Henriette.)

      As we walked away, Mum said to me, “Now, you have your daughter, Claudine, waiting for you at home. She needs you. This is better than the Skylarks!” I was so tired. Mother could tell. She was wonderful!

      “Yes, I have to take care of Claudine. Poor girl, she is all alone at home!”

      Claudine sat next to us while I learned how to knit. Zita was there too. Looking out the window, I saw snow mixed with rain.

      The rain spoiled the beautiful, smooth white blanket of snow. Our feet got wet and cold walking in the slush on the way to Aunt Eugenie’s. Her mistress, Mrs. Koch, had asked her to invite me for their Christmas Eve, some days after the 24^th of December.

      Mother had given me a lot of orders—always the same ones over and over again. I knew them all. Be polite. Don’t put one foot on the top of the other when you stand. Don’t touch the furniture. Don’t serve yourself. Don’t chew with your mouth wide open. Don’t go in a room if you’re not invited. Don’t put your elbow on the table and hold your head. Don’t play with your hair. Don’t swing your legs when you sit. Don’t, don’t, don’t!

      The big villa with marble steps, crystal mirrors, and a colorful carpet made me feel embarrassed. The odor of pine, candles, chocolate, and cake; the loud laughter of the three sons and their cousins; a pine tree reaching up to the ceiling, underneath a mountain of colorful parcels—I wanted to run away.

      “Come in, Simone. Don’t be shy. The boys won’t hurt you.”

      Aunt Eugenie introduced me to the three boys and their cousins, who clearly were not interested in meeting a girl. Boys are all the same, just like the ones at school who threw chestnuts at us girls. I don’t like boys, I thought.

      I sat on a chair so high that my legs dangled. My hair bothered me. My aunt smiled and gently but firmly put one hand on my knee to stop the swinging. She took my hand out of my hair. I blushed. Did anybody else see it?

      Mrs. Koch, wearing a wonderful lace dress with a long, three-row necklace, sat next to me. Speaking in French, she said: “Simone, Father Christmas (Père Noël) has brought something for you.” And taking my hand, she led me to the beautifully adorned pine tree standing opposite a big lace-covered table. The crystal glasses and silverware reflected СКАЧАТЬ