Everything Under the Sky by Matilde Asensi Read Free Book Online

family.”
    “Thank you, monsieur.”
    “With respect to the financial difficulties you find yourself in, madame, I don't know what to say. I think your lawyer has given you good, sensible advice.”
    “Why don't you ask your late husband's family for help, dear?” Jeanne inquired, setting her cup on the saucer.
    “Their lawyers have made it very clear that help would not be forthcoming.”
    “Pity!” Consul Wilden exclaimed. “I'm very sorry, Mme De Poulain. We would truly like to help you, but as consul of France I'm not in a position to do anything more. I hope you understand. Purchasing Rémy's plot is a gesture I can allow myself, because he was a prominent member of our colony and a notable citizen of our country. Anything else, however, would be outside my scope and could be misinterpreted by the embassy in Peking, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and certainly by the French community in Shanghai. Good luck to you, madame. Jeanne and I wish you the very best, and if there's anything else we can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask.”
    I strode out of the old mansion that housed the consulate, feigning a strength I didn't possess. Once the Wildens had shown that they were unable to do anything beyond what was politically appropriate, I didn't want them to see my trembling hands or weak knees. Riding in the rickshaw that was taking me back for the second time that day to the house that had turned out to be an ephemeral property that was to bring me nothing but sorrow, I began to think I was entering a dark alley that seemed to be a dead end, and worst of all I would have to suppress my anguish for several more hours. Fernanda and I were expected at the Spanish consulate that evening, and I couldn't even begin to imagine what the devil I'd lost.
    I didn't want any of the snacks Mrs. Zhong prepared midafternoon, nor did I want to leave my room or see anyone until it was time to prepare for dinner. I didn't feel well, and the effort to speak was simply too much. I tried to think of ways to obtain the 150,000 francs still needed to pay off Rémy's debts, but I couldn't come up with a single solution. The only really good idea I had—to escape to Spain and hide in some far-off village—wasn't feasible no matter how you looked at it. Only big cities like Madrid or Barcelona were up to European standards in terms of hygiene and culture, while the rest languished in hunger, filth, and ignorance. And besides, where could a single woman go there? Women had taken on a new role in the rest of the civilized world, much more free and independent, but in Spain they continued to be objects, adornment at best, dominated by church and husband. My wings would be clipped, the air would be too oppressive to breathe, and the very thing that had driven me out twenty years earlier would finish me off once and for all. A woman painter? María Blanchard and I, Elvira Aranda, personified what women painters in Spain could do: leave.
    My niece came in at around seven to remind me it was time to go. I got out of bed under her scrutinizing stare and began to get ready. Fernanda stood immobile in the doorway, following me with her eyes until I couldn't take it anymore.
    “Don't you have to get changed?” I asked brusquely.
    “I'm all ready,” she replied. I looked her over carefully but didn't notice anything different. She looked the same as ever in that old-fashioned black dress, her hair in a ponytail, and that perennial fan in her hand.
    “Are you waiting for something?”
    “No.”
    “Well, go on, then. Get.”
    She seemed to hesitate for a moment and finally left. Looking back, I think she might have been worried about me, but at the time I was so overcome with sorrow I couldn't respond properly to anything.
    After curling my hair and perfuming it with Quelques Fleurs, I put on a delightful, brown silk evening dress with large tulle bows on both sides. The result in the mirror was spectacular. Why deny it? After all, it was