Momowords

Mr. Lantin was married at age 25, in Paris, in 1890. His parents had sent him there to study. His father was a teacher in a rural school, and his mother a seamstress. Now working for the ministry, he spent much of his time bent over his desk, writing, reading and working.

He had met Mrs. Lantin in a park on a summer day, during the maturity of nature, while the sun shone with all its power. Before he had met his wife, Mr.Lantin had thought this park was like all the others. But when he met Ms. Morillon there, she lit up his life, and made this simple park a special place for both .

Ms. Morillon was a poor girl of 20 years, of modest beauty, but an angelic and heavenly charm. Her mouth seemed so divine that Mr. Lantin imagined she only ate ambrosia, the gods’ divine food. Her eyes were so soft and tender that they could bend someone’s will in a single glance.

Their wedding took place in Paris , and their honeymoon took place two weeks later, in Monaco, in the south. Mr. Lantin introduced his wife to theater, which she fell in love with. She could not help but spend all her time watching plays. After their wedding, it was a marital bliss, during which the two lovers never ceased to repeat that they would love each other for all eternity.

 

But little by little, Mr.Lantin began to not go out with his wife to the theater every week, except for a grand event or occasion to make her happy. He was always sitting at his desk, back hunched. He almost began to forget their once so young and lively love. And his wife also noticed this, gradually. Mrs. Lantin was bored. So she asked her husband if she could go to the theater alone. But he, who adored her all the same, would not let her go alone, lest misfortune happen to her. He therefore only allowed her to go if she was accompanied by a friend.

But the dates with her friends did her wrong, for her friends told her “See here, the necklace that my husband bought me?” or “Just look at these darling earrings”. She quickly began to envy them and decided to get some for herself. She saved up her money, and managed to buy a beautiful, gold ring . When her husband asked her where all her jewelry came from, she simply replied ” They are fakes.” And he only nodded his head.

But one winter day, a Saturday, specifically, the day Mrs. Lantin always went to the theater, she realized that no one could accompany him because all her friends were already occupied. She decided not to tell her husband, and go there alone.

She was just coming out she heard her husband shout:

“Daisy ! Where are you? ”

“I’m here at the front door .” she replied .

She heard footsteps in the hallway approaching her.

“Here you are! Tell me, where are you going?” he asked.

“I am going to the theater. Would you like to accompany me?” she asked innocently.

“Oh, I would, but you know I have a lot of work to do right now. Why, are you not going with a friend?”

“They are taken tonight… I was thinking of maybe going alone.”

“On your own?! You ?! Surely not! A winter day like this! I will not let you go!” he cried .

“But, my dear! I will not take too long. You know how much it would hurt me in the heart ! Theatre is my life! Please!”

“…”

“Well then, accompany me.”

“Why, no! I already told you I could not.”

“Fine! Then I shall go alone and I will take a carriage immediately, since you do not want to accompany me!” She looked away, opened the door and walked out.

“No! My love! Please! Come back!”

It was heartbreaking to leave her husband in that way because she loved him. She even turn around and run into his arms, but she was determined to watch a play. The further she walked, the more Mr. Lantin’s cries is weakened.

From a distance, she saw a carriage coming. She asked “the theater.”. The journey seemed to take longer than usual. When she arrived at the theater, she hurried inside, it being very cold outside, took a seat, and looked around the room. The play pleased her very much, even if she thought the ending was sad. It was written by Alexandre Dumas :

In an island in the Indian Ocean, the tradition is that when the husband or wife dies, the other partner follows them into the tomb. The governor’s daughter is very sick because her lover has disappeared, so he desperately wants to marry her to heal her grief. A newcomer unknowing the custom of the country, agrees to marry the girl. But the lover comes back. He fakes the death of the girl, and the new husband seeks by all means to escape his fate. The former lover even arranges a fake funeral, until the newcomer gives way to the new groom all his rights and riches.

 

Tired but satisfied, Mrs. Lantin went quickly from the theater, when suddenly came a bitter harsh wind stifling her cry . Never before had she felt so cold. It began to snow. The wind seemed to whip her, and frozen snow obscured her vision. She tripped and fell several times. She collapsed the seventh time, but thought of her poor husband who was waiting for her back home. She rose heavily, and saw a carriage approaching. She motioned to it, but the driver did not pay attention to her, poor wretch lost in this wild snow.

When she finally came home, she saw her husband in the garden, shivering in the snow, shouting his name : “My love! Where are you? Dear Lord, why did I let her go alone?” When he saw his poor wife in this deplorable state, he ran to her as fast as his unfit legs could carry him.

“My dear Marguerite! My poor darling! Oh, what have I done? I’ll carry you back to your room, we shall call a doctor.”

He gently laid her in her bed, and hurried out to search for hot water, honey and sugar to warm her throat because she had a terrible cough. He gently poured the concoction into her mouth. It had the golden colour ambrosia. He stroked her wet hair.

“Are you feeling better? I’ll call the doctor.”

“No…” she whispered, “I do not want to…”

“But you seem so ill! Please dear, just to check!”

But she since insisted so much that he decided to wait a while before calling the doctor. Unfortunately, her condition did not improve. He had to call the doctor three days later.

The doctor closed the door behind him and whispered to M. Lantin:

“I am deeply sorry sir, but your wife is suffering from a serious illness. It is too late. My sincere regrets.”

Mrs. Lantin died eight days later.

 

Now a widower, Mr. Lantin was hopeless. Since his wife’s funeral, he had been leading a miserable life. He was missing his wife so much it hurt. And what tore his heart the most, was that he thought that his death was her fault. He was inconsolable. Mr. Lantin stopped going to work altogether.

One day, while Mr. Lantin had decided to look through his wife’s affairs a month after her death, he found a box. It was bronze, with a gold clasp. He had never seen anything of the like before. Why had his wife hidden it? He tried prying it open, but it was firmly locked.

He looked everywhere for a key, desperate to find out what she had been hiding from him. He threw himself onto his wife’s bed. He laid his head on his pillow. After a while, he started feeling something hard under his head. He lifted the pillow up. Below was a small, brown box. He opened it slowly and found a key in it.

He put the key in the box’s lock hole. He turned, and a ‘click’ sounded, breaking the silence reining in the house like cymbals in an orchestra.

“But what – what is this?”. The box was filled with jewellery of all kinds. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, chains, earrings… He recognized most of the jewellery she had previously worn. Tears came to blur his vision. He brushed them off with a quick movement of the hand, and was drowning himself in the colors of the jewels when he remembered what she had told him several times while wearing them: “Do not worry, they are not real.” He smiled sadly.

Suddenly, an idea came to him :

“I could sell for a few pennies…”

 

The next day, Mr. Lantin woke up very early. He took a carriage to the nearest jeweller with his box.

Ding – dong !

Mr. Lantin looked around. The jeweller’s was quite small, but held hundreds of pearls and diamonds.

“Hello sir! What can I do to help you?” Mr. Lantin turned quickly to discover a short man with a distinctive aquiline nose, and piercing green eyes.

“Hello sir. I, umm, came to sell some jewellery. But it, erm, fake.”

“Fake jewellery?! Ah, but you do not have much to gain!”

“I know that, but I need the money. Here they are.” He gestured to the box he was holding in his hands. He opened it slowly.

The jeweller looked at it a while, quite curiously, and then exclaimed :

“Why this is the jewellery that I sold to Mrs. Lantin! Where did you get these?”

“Mrs. Lantin? But Mrs. Lantin is my wife!” he also exclaimed.

“Well then sir, these are real!”

Mr. Lantin looked speechless .

“They are … real?” he asked incredulously.

A moment passed between them, letting the realisation sink into Mr. Lantin’s head.

“Do you still wish to sell them?”

M. Lantin could not believe his ears. Real jewellery? But how had his wife procured herself of such things? Then he suddenly remembered that he had noticed for some time that he had had a little trouble paying the rent. He felt a pang in his heart. His wife had bought herself jewellery, instead of him buying her some. He had not behaved like a good husband. He felt himself tear up, but nodded his head vigorously.

“For how much do you wish to sell them sir?”

“I – I do not know,” answered Mr. Lantin.

“Come, I shall show you just how much I sold them for.” He searched through some papers.

“Here, you see, I sold these 27 jewels for 5’000’000 francs to your wife. ”

M. Lantin felt dizzy .

“I wish to sell everything for 5’000’000 francs. ” He said slowly.

“Perfect, perfect!” Exclaimed the jeweller, and led him to the back of his shop.

 

Mr. Lantin was rich. He owned a large villa, a huge park and garden, and a stream running through it. He was married to a certain Ms. Danglars, now known as Mrs. Lantin .

She was tall, her face drawn, and a scar ran along her neck. She often wore a black cloak with a dark green bag. She too was a widow.

“Joseph! What have you been doing all this time? I have been waiting at least one hour!” cried his wife.

Mrs. Lantin was by nature consumed with jealousy. She made her husband suffer terribly.

“I am very sorry my dear, but I had a lot of work to catch up on.”

“Oh yes, of course! You were with your cousin again, Miss Koapi. Well, since you are so fond of being in her presence, why don’t you go live with her! Go!”

“Beatrice! Stop immediately! All the neighbours and passers-by shall hear you! And you know perfectly well that-”

“Perfectly well that what? You lie to me? Of course I know, I’m not stupid. Admit that you’re with another woman or I will not be present at your party tonight!” She cried.

“No, please Beatrice! Calm down!”

“Well why not? You betrayed me!” She was screaming now, “too bad for you!” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Oh, what have I done?” M. Lantin said wretchedly “Why does she not believe me? ”

Mr. Lantin was leading miserable life after miserable life. His wife did not like his going out or being late, and made scenes almost every night. Dark circles decorated his eyes and white hair was beginning to grow at the roots. He said nothing of this to his wife because he loved her all the same, but sometimes he was so angry with her, he went out into the park for a calming walk.

 

That evening, in the midst of Mr. Lantin’s party, a terrible cry was heard. A deathly silence fell upon the crowd, and all eyes came to rest on Mr. Lantin. He had turned as pale and trembling as a dead leaf. He apologized quickly and rushed to the stairs. Mrs. Lantin was lying on the ground, prostrate, watching her husband rush over. Her leg was twisted at an odd angle, she was bleeding from the head, and a vase was broken into pieces around her.

“What happened my dear? Are you hurt?!” he sounded as broken as the vase surrounding his wife.

All the guests listened eagerly .

“What? You do not see? I fell! This cursed vase! And why have I fallen? Because I was crying, for cause of your treason.” She spat the last words with all her remaining strength, and, as though in slow motion, her head fell to the ground, never to rise again.

Guests murmured among themselves, and then realizing what had happened, ran, screamed, but to Mr. Lantin, everything seemed distant, hollow. He was fixated on the dead figure of his wife.

“Quick! Someone call an ambulance!” cried one of the guests. But it was too late, Mrs. Lantin was never to see the light of day again.

 

A widower once again, Mr. Lantin was overwhelmed, and condemned to the hands of sadness. Nightmares tormented his every thought, in the streets people mocked him… They said he had betrayed his wife, that he was with someone else. Even, that he had killed his wife himself. Then things got worse. Nobody spoke to him. Nobody comforted him. Nobody helped him. Nobody loved him. He was alone in the world.

He couldn’t take it any more. What he was going through was indescribable. No amount of drugs could make him forget his sorrow. But something could. Something that always cured. Something that lasted forever.

He drove around for a while, restless, until he found the perfect place.

He walked towards the edge, his breath steady. He stared down the face of the cliff.

He jumped.

tags: alone, danglars, death, lantin, suicide, world