…I was looking for apartment number twenty-five in the row of Tokatlıyan. Louis Durant was leading a very brilliant and genteel life. I also had a passing acquaintance with him from afar. He stopped by Tokatlıyan every evening. His wife was very beautiful, dark-complexioned and graceful. Especially, he had a daughter. She could be estimated to be thirteen or fourteen years old. This was a doll. In the Beyoğlu society, everyone called this girl “Golden Fairy.” My heart was beating. The sun, just like summer, was heating the pavements, itches from the heat were shivering on my shoulders and chest. And I was saying to myself, “Here’s the perfect opportunity to see them!” Especially, the life and activity I would lead from now on would always make me live with them. I found the door. When I rang, a Greek servant appeared before me. In very poor French he said, “Monsieur, whom do you want?” I also answered in French: “I wish to have the honor of meeting Monsieur Durant.”
“Your name?”
I extended my card. He took me to a waiting room and went to inform his master. In two minutes I looked around and at the furry carpet under my feet. All the furniture in the room would be worth more than five hundred liras. So Mr. Durant was very rich. Why was he still looking for a job? When the servant took me to the salon, my astonishment increased. And I began to think more about the money matter. Since I had furnished several houses, I understood furniture prices very well. Mr. Durant received me very graciously. He introduced me to his wife. I was trying to appear more cheerful than my disposition by constraining myself. Golden Fairy entered. And she was introduced to me. Oh, what a charming thing she was… Her mother’s height was more than necessary. I noticed at that moment. At yesterday’s banquet, Mr. Durant had told me that his grandfather’s father was from Normandy, that they still had houses in France, that his mother had converted when she was an Italian Jew. I wonder what his wife was? Armenian? No, no… Whatever she was, this woman had a beautiful and coquettish masculine manner. Whereas Mademoiselle Durant… an angel with broken wings… First of all, she was very white. She was so fresh that… I was looking at her hands and thinking they would melt if touched. Her brown hair was thick and abundant. It stood on her head like a heavy and priceless, diamondless and enchanting crown. She had not yet become a woman. If one didn’t look carefully at her knees and chest, one would think she was a child.
Monsieur Durant said, “She’s very interested in politics.” “She reads all the European newspapers.”
The girl laughed: “Not in politics, I’m interested in reading…”
I stammered.
“If you occupy yourself with literature, mademoiselle…”
She opened her eyes. She blushed. Then she looked down. I was quietly gathering myself, thinking “I wonder if I made a blunder?”
“Literature?” she said. “This is the plague of the soul. Especially today’s literature… Father Bertrand has strictly forbidden me and my companions from reading poetry and novels.”
“Holy man!” I admired, “Indeed so… But I believe there are good ones among them.”
Monsieur Durant said, “For example, like the works of Chateaubriand, Lamartine…”
Golden Fairy turned to her father: “Alas, father dear. The priest forbade us even Graziella, Raphael.”
“What serious and strict upbringing!” I was thinking. Should this poor girl read geometry and trigonometry? What will the editorials of Temps and Times tell her? Here, if we realize the ideal of ‘Ottoman amalgamation,’ these unfortunate and beautiful Levantine girls will also be free. They will be saved from the oppression of the priests’ consciences, they will satisfy the needs of their souls.
Golden Fairy got involved in our conversations with her mother, made beautiful objections to our discussion with her father.
“Ah humanity, ah enlightenment…” she was saying, closing her beautiful eyes as if watching the material illuminations of the dawn of the future to come, “I wonder, can’t girls join your society?” she was asking.
The talk went on. Monsieur Durant wanted Latin language to be adopted as well as Latin letters for the new and amalgamated Ottoman nation, and he was explaining that the humanist and socialist groups in Europe would financially assist our society. Ugh, it was getting long, I was even getting tired of listening. Monsieur Durant said he would write his memorandum to our society in Latin and would also add its French translation. We started talking with Madame Durant about fashion and sports. She was always looking for Europe, repeating that this place was no different from a prison, lamenting “Ah, there’s no genteel society here to pass the time!” I thought it was time to get up and leave.
Monsieur Durant said to his daughter as if falling from the roof, “Juliet, will you show the gentleman your collection?” Golden Fairy looked at me with a long and deep gaze and answered: “If they wish, with pleasure…”
Without seeing the need to understand what kind of collection this was, I bowed: “I desire it extremely, mademoiselle…”
She laughed, arranging her hair with her white and thin hands. “Please, let’s go to my room together…” she said. And she got up. I also got up. She walked ahead, I behind. We entered Golden Fairy’s bedroom. I couldn’t comprehend that a girl who was ashamed of, afraid of literature, which is the plague of the soul, would take a man she was talking to for the first time to her room. In the room was a black, large, and very strong dog. When it saw me, it started barking.
“We can’t be comfortable without throwing this out, how jealous the rascal is!” she let out a laugh. She drove the animal outside. The blue silk curtains of the wide bed, which resembled no other young girl’s, were open, and a mahogany desk stood at the edge. In front of it was only one chair.
“You sit on this,” she said.
“And you?”
“You sit and I’ll find a place for myself.”
I looked around. There was no place to sit except the bed and the edges of the washstand. I settled in the chair. Golden Fairy was opening the large drawer of the desk, her hair touching my face. She took out an ebony box, opened it. And with an indifferent movement sat on my lap. I was so embarrassed that she saw my face redden.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No, no,” I said, “but if your mother and father see us like this?”
She let out a laugh. “You’re truly innocent,” she said, “don’t they know we’ll be looking at my collection here?”
In the box before me were about a hundred small stones such as diamond, agate, emerald, nejef, mother-of-pearl, amber, and so on. Perhaps we looked at her collection for more than an hour. We were already straightening ourselves up and about to leave the room. Innocent and shy Golden Fairy said, “Now you’ll give me three hundred francs,” “the fee for viewing my collection…”
Not three hundred, this was worth even five hundred francs. As I took out three banknotes from my pocket and gave them to her hand, I quietly asked: “Do you show your collection to others as well?”
“I show it to whomever I want… But for a fee! Only to one person for free…”
“To whom? To your fiancé?”
“No, to my dog.”
In the salon we found Monsieur Durant and Madame reading a book side by side. They laughed because we were very late.
“It’s clear, you’re interested in little stones,” they were saying. Madame also had a collection. She promised to show it on my next visit. Indeed, on my second visit I also saw Madame’s collection. It was good but not as charming and valuable as her daughter’s.
Couldn’t this family live richly even in Paris thanks to the collections they showed? My earlier astonishment upon seeing the grandeur of the apartment had now completely disappeared.
Ömer Seyfettin
