The Dream Maker Read Online Free PDF Page B

years old. He made us wait in the antechamber for two long hours. My father had worked part of the night to finish the order. I saw him reeling with fatigue yet unable to sit down, for lack of a seat. When at last the young lord bade us come in, I was shocked to see he was receiving us in his nightshirt. Through the door to his room, we could see a naked woman. He adopted an ironic tone in speaking with my father, calling him emphatically “the Honorable Pierre Cœur.” With a nod of his head he reached for the coverlet. Then he stiffened and motioned to my father that he could leave. My father would have obeyed, the way he always does, but this time he was in urgent need of money in order to pay for a large order of pelts he had just received. Fighting his nature, he got up the courage to demand payment for his work. The Duke’s nephew walked back up to him.
    â€œWe shall see to it. Send me your invoice.”
    â€œHere it is, my lord.”
    With a trembling hand my father held out the invoice. The young lord scanned it, displeased.
    â€œIt is very expensive. Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I don’t know your pathetic tricks? You expect me to pay full price for something stitched not from the animal’s belly but from several pieces from the back.”
    My father’s lips were twitching nervously.
    â€œThese pelts, my lord, are all of the best quality . . . ”
    I knew that my father took particular care in choosing his suppliers and their merchandise. He absolutely forbade himself from taking any of the shortcuts that other, unscrupulous craftsmen resorted to on occasion. Alas, paralyzed by the respect he thought he owed the whippersnapper, he did not know how to defend himself.
    â€œForgive me for insisting, my Lord. But I must rely on the generosity of your Lordship kindly to pay me for the item today because—”
    â€œToday!” said the duke’s nephew, looking around him as if he had a room full of witnesses.
    He gave my father a stern look. As I observed him, I understood that he would have liked to maintain his insolent stance, but that something had suddenly given him pause. Perhaps he was afraid his uncle might reproach him. The old Duke was not kindly, but he paid well. It was his policy to foster a circle of craftsmen and artists in his town, in order to enhance his reputation as a man of taste and patron of the arts.
    â€œWell then, so be it!” said the young man.
    He went over to a dresser and opened the drawer. He took a few coins and tossed them on the table in front of my father. At a glance I totaled five
livres tournois
. The coverlet was worth eight.
    My father picked up the coins.
    â€œThere are five here,” he said in an unsteady voice. “We are missing—”
    â€œWe are missing?”
    â€œYour Lordship must have misread my invoice. The item is worth . . . eight.”
    â€œIt might be worth eight
livres
if there were no flaws.”
    â€œWhat flaws are there?” protested my father, sincerely concerned that he might have let an imperfection slip by.
    The young man grabbed the blanket and held it out.
    â€œWhat, can you not see?”
    My father stretched his neck to inspect the entire fur. At that very moment, the two fists holding the coverlet moved apart, and with a sudden snap and a ripping noise, the seam joining the two skins gave way. My father stepped back. The Duke’s nephew let out a loud insolent laugh.
    â€œCan you see it, now?” he exclaimed with a sneer. “Bastien, see these gentlemen out.”
    Still laughing, he returned to his bedchamber.
    As we went home in silence, I felt my anger welling up. Once I would have admired my father for his self-control. But Eustache had taught me to see that my indignation was legitimate. I was no longer alone in thinking that work must be respected, that there are limits to the power given at birth, that the arbitrary rule of the nobility was no