Un Peu Loufoque and Henri's return

Henri has returned this morning, appearing in the kitchen unannounced and surprising Madame Grognonne from behind whilst she was in the middle of preparing the breakfast tray for Chief patissier and myself. As a result Chief patissier’s café was cold and his pan au chocolat a trifle on the hard side but thankfully my tea did not suffer. He has for some bizarre reason cropped his hair exceedingly short and dyed it an arresting shade of red, which is a trifle startling at first sight but I am sure one will grow accustomed to it, eventually.

After a long discussion in the study with Chief Patissier, to which I was not privy, they have or so it would appear, come to an agreement. Henri is to have an official place in our household and a livery of sorts, to which he has conceded , providing the coat has a high collar and the hat a large brim. Poor man he is obviously so painfully shy that he does not wish to be recognised. Although quite frankly I doubt whether even his dear mother would recognise him with his present coiffure.

We shall accord him board and lodging and a small remuneration annually and in return he will have sole care of the horse, stables and upkeep of the governess cart and help with any odd jobs that might occur around the estate. For some reason I can not quite fathom, he now wishes to answer to the name of Jacques, I do hope nothing in the hair dye has addled his brain, one must be so careful with those chemicals. Chief Patissier also informs me he has discussed the husbandry of horses with Henri, who is now Jacques, and together they have agreed it is highly possible he may be administering too much horse liniment and that in future I shall not be required to purchase quite so much Absinthe, which is a relief as I am not sure how much our local bar owner has remaining secreted in his private hoard in the cellar!

Madame Grognonne tells me that, although the missing horse has not been found, rumours are rife that he was last seen travelling towards the Belgium border with a band of Romanian gypsies disguised as itinerant clock makers and that the two Gendarmes who called chez nous yesterday are in hot pursuit. It appears also that Henri’s sister has fortuitously received a letter from Henri which releases him from any suspicion regarding his part in the missing horse vanished.

The letter is postmarked Paris, and dated by coincidence on exactly the same day as the disappearance of the horse. According to Madame Grognonne the letter advises Henri’s sister that he has left the stables at St Juste and is making a new life for himself as a juggler in a travelling circus. This is all very odd as I know perfectly well he is at this very moment mucking out my stables. I informed Chief patissier of this new information which he appeared to find highly amusing.

There is however no news of my missing oils but I have chief Patissier’s word that he will send for extra supplies from Paris and I shall be able to resume my painting as soon as it arrives. Meanwhile , since I cannot continue without Titanium white , I shall have to bide my time. It really is frightfully frustrating, I have nought to do but sit and stare at my completed canvases as they dry in the studio, and there is nothing quite as dull as watching paint dry. I suppose if I get too tiresomely bored I may always entertain myself by moving my contemplation down to the salle to regard Chief Patissier’s portrait for a change of scenery. I am at present trying to avoid the salle as I have an unaccountably strong urge to get my brushes and turpentine out and smudge his nose a trifle. If it was not for the fact that I am sure he would notice I am certain I would not be able to curb myself. I understand it may take as long as twelve whole months for a canvas to dry completely, which, I think you will agree, is an unthinkably long time to expect a person, no matter how well bred, to restrain her urges.

Our anniversaire of our nuptials did not go quite as expected yesterday what with the being shot at before breakfast and then manhandled onto the bed by my husband when I least expected it. However Chief Patissier was obviously touched by my wedding Anniversaire gift to him and it seems to have quite softened his heart, not only did he kiss me fleetingly on the forehead at breakfast but he has promised to take me to the Opera in Rennes as soon as something suitable appears on the programme. I am rather hoping to see Bizets Opera Carmen, The story of a fickle Spanish factory girl of loose morals who ends up stabbed to death by her lover having rejected him for a bullfighter which I think might be positively tranquille after life chez nous over recent weeks.
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The illustration today is “Offering the Panal to the Bullfighter” and was painted by Mary Stevenson Cassatt in 1873.You probably don’t know this but a panal is a sweet honey biscuit which when dipped in water makes quite a refreshing drink. Why they can not merely make a drink from honey and water in the first place and serve the biscuit separately is a mystery but then the Spaniards are strange people. It rather reminded me of the story of Carmen, although she was of course interested in him dipping something quite different in her honey pot little strumpet that she was!