Episode 3

I ponder, holding back my tears—how did we come to this?

Now there is nothing left but to find a place to live and to survive.

In the following days, I set out in search of a simpler house that could accommodate the little we had left. But predictably, no one in their right mind would want to rent property to two women alone like us, and without apparent resources.

Not even the friendship of some families who used to dine at our table could make them trust us.

They are such self-seekers.

Doors slammed in our faces and many rejections.

At the end of the third day, with the approach of night, the anguish set in. Tomorrow we would have to leave, to avoid an even greater scandal than our impending eviction.

We packed everything we had into some trunks and tied the rest in sheets; wooden boxes for kitchen and sewing items and smaller personal items in smaller chests.

My mother is restless since we had to let go of the last of our servants, and only Ciri, the loyal Ciri, and our cook, Ava, and the coachman Mr. Kamut, whom my father had rescued from a slave trader, stayed with us. A cheerful lady who, having no family, said she would not leave us for anything, and so the four of us stood there, in the almost empty living room.

She takes a walk, touching the walls that still bear the cheerful tone of the paint and the light-colored wallpapers which, due to lack of maintenance, are beginning to come off, the wall candelabras, and the family portraits, which we wouldn't know how to transport since we don't even know where we're going.

In town, there's a shelter for lone women, and some of them are welcome in the mines to assist with an injured miner, or to help sort the small pebbles from the mineral extracted from the rocks. Women and children without a fixed income, those with small hands, slim fingers, and keen eyes, are selected daily for a few coins. Others work in kitchens, or as chambermaids, ironers, or laundresses... however it may be, we will have to work there. And it was with this single option that we awaited the dawn to depart without drawing too much attention.

Despite the impending poverty, pride still gasps for breath.

Since our beds were taken, we were all sleeping in the living room, wrapped up with our heads resting on some cushions, with English lace, which had passed unnoticed by the bank's inventory clerk. The women on one side and our coachman, Kamut, because of his African origin, was close to the window, keeping watch to ensure we were not attacked by some opportunistic hooligan looking to have fun with unprotected women.

What a sad fate ours is, yet I still have faith that something good will happen, or rather, must happen, and it truly depends on me now.

So as on that last night in the empty house I watch everyone sleep, and I look at my dear mother, weathered from so much trying and failing, I make my decision.

It is against everything I desire and dream of, but if it is to prevent the last remaining people I care for from living on the street, then I will act.

If there must be a sacrificial lamb, then let it be me.

I rise very slowly so as not to wake them. I put on a thick fabric dress, which will keep me warm on that cold night, and with the wine-colored hooded cloak that my father had sent for me from France, I leave the house.

Stealthy and determined.

I walk quickly through the empty streets, where only some pedestrians, others drunk, and even free women discreetly seek a target.

I have only one destination.

The Milton's hostel.

I reach the door of the famous hostel in town and one of the guards bars my way.

"Where do you think you're going at this hour, young lady?"

I remove my hood and let him see that I pose no danger.

The man looks me up and down, perhaps deducing that my current plight has led me to debauchery.

"I need to speak with Mr. Otto Montanese. He is staying here, and he is expecting me."

He examines me more closely, trying to understand what a girl like me would want with Mr. Otto at that time of night, knowing that no decent women ever walk alone, especially late at night.

"Please, it's important."

The man sighs and lets me pass.

At the reception desk, I see the attendant nearly drooling over the registry book. I break into a broad smile because I know him. We always bumped into each other at festivals or a dance our families were invited to, and he looked at me so much that I sometimes thought he would get a crick in his neck.

I give a light tap on the bell, and he wakes startled.

"Miss Montanese... what are you... doing here?"

"I need to speak with Mr. Otto. Could you call him for me?"

The handsome, slender young man also finds my request odd. But as an employee, he knows he needs to summon his superior. If he let me into a guest's room at this hour, I would be dishonored, and if he called him, it would be inconvenient.

"I can't, miss, it's too late, and you shouldn't even be on the street. Why don't you go home and come back tomorrow, when he wakes up, I'll let him know you were here."

"If I don't speak with him right now, tomorrow I will no longer have a home to return to. Please, help me..."

He knows of my predicament and was one of the few in town who did not turn away when he saw us. He sympathizes with my despairing face and decides to risk his neck for me. I am indeed desperate.

He steps out from behind the counter and asks that I sit in a discreet corner of the reception area.

"Stay here, I'll go up there. If Mr. Otto is still awake, I'll come and let you know, okay?"

I nod nervously, aware of the risks I'm running by being there.

I wait anxiously for a considerable time.

The young man hurries back and looks at me uncertainly.

"So, is he coming?"

He scratches his head and gives me a sideways glance.

"Is the gentleman related to you by any chance?"

"Yes, why?"

"He told you to go up there; he said his niece wanted to see him and it was a good sign, but I must warn you beforehand, he is not alone... If you wish, I could stay there with you, because it wouldn't be proper for you to be in the same room with the people accompanying him."

I roll my eyes.

"Let's go, then."

I don't know who's with him, and I don't care, I just want to save my home.

We arrive at the room and hear feminine laughter.

"Are you sure this is it?"

He shrugs and knocks.

The tall man with an imposing bearing opens the door and smiles at seeing me.

"I knew you would come. Enter!"

I entered and my friend was prevented from passing, looking at me from the door with bulging eyes, fearing for me. I reassured him with a look, and he signaled that he would stay outside in case I needed him.

Indeed, he fears for me more than I do.

And only then do I understand what he meant by Mr. Otto not being alone.

He is dressed in trousers and a white shirt without buttons, his gray hair tousled; the room has a peculiar smell, and as I look at the bed, I see two women lying down... and clearly, they are... nude or nearly so.

My heart races. If anyone catches me here, they'll think I am like them. I have seen them passing on the street a few times, and they are the ones who work at the men's pleasure house on the outskirts of the city. All the respectable women talk about them but do not respect them at all in their words. They call them the dregs of society and have even been expelled from places where families were present, even though everyone knows their trade, those who use their services would never dare defend them in public.

I make a move to leave, and Mr. Otto holds me back. I swallow hard. I am doomed.

"I apologize for this. But I thought it better you come here instead of us talking outside."

"You, get out!" he commands with a firm voice. "wait outside, I need to have a word with my niece."

The two grab some clothes scattered on the floor and leave, muttering softly, and I did not even dare to open my eyes to look. This is so indecent.

"You can open your eyes now, Adelaide; we are alone."

I open my eyes and he is now wearing a closed coat.

"So, niece" he jests "what do you want from me?"

"You know. I want to hear... your offer."

My chest churns. If I indeed accept this absurd proposal, I now have a small idea of what awaits me. The man is depraved.

"Did the bank come by?"

"You know they did. That's why I'm here. We have nowhere to go, and since... you offered to help us. I've come to appeal to your good sense, and... the family ties between you and my father."

"And your mother?"

"She doesn't know I've come. But don't worry, I understand the conditions for having your help, and I am not at all concerned with the consequences. I just want to see my mother... cared for."

The man approaches me, and a smile different from any I've seen crosses his face. He seems satisfied and happy, but not in a lecherous way.

"Very well, at last courage in a woman. Courage is quite a rare quality indeed. A young beauty like you, willing to sacrifice herself to save her family... that is commendable. Truly, you are your father's daughter. But rest assured. Take a seat, and I shall explain the real motives and terms of our future marriage, and after, you may tell me whether you accept or not."

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