At the Grand Hotel Artémis

Behold the Grand Hotel Artémis lounge in all its glory. Behold the Corinthian columns supporting golden arches featuring Greek nudes in high relief. Behold the cascading crystals of its famed center chandelier — an exact replica of the equally famous chandeliers in the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. Behold the twin accessory chandeliers flanking it, behold the craft and good taste of the Bohemian glass and the yellow light the trio bestows upon the room. Behold the immense red velvet curtains with Persian arabesques adorning the Gothic stained-glass windows — behold them! Behold the Parisian tables where the guests have just finished dining; behold the red, purple, and gold bouquets atop the burgundy tablecloths! Behold the eight statues of the Muses arranged symmetrically along the walls. Behold young Olivier discovering, in wonder, the effects that the vision of bare breasts elicit upon his body. Behold the drop of jaw at the sight of marble nipples. Behold his mother, Madame Hubert, smiling like a teenager as the young, penniless Vicomte d’Orlais asks her to dance. Behold her husband, Monsieur Hubert, occupied fawning over Madame Denichet. Behold the sable fur coat draped over Madame Denichet’s shoulders; behold her purple turban, complete with a peacock feather and an agate ornament. Behold the champagne flute in Madame Denichet’s hand; behold the delicate way she holds it without glancing at it for a second, fully trusting the waiter’s abilities. Behold Philippe pouring with confidence, knowing the foam won’t spill over. Behold Philippe’s impeccable white uniform. Behold it! Behold Antoine’s impeccable white uniform as he carries a tray of empty glasses, gliding unnoticed across the ballroom. Behold Christophe’s impeccable white uniform as he hides beside one of the statues to watch the band; behold the band playing in the Grand Hotel Artémis ballroom! Behold their red suits, black trousers, polished shoes; behold their finger waved hairs and their thin mustaches. Behold the dexterity of the brass section; behold the trumpeters’ leap from B-flat to F in unison; behold their fingers all holding the same position, poised halfway between one note and the next. Behold at the statue of Euterpe, the ninth Muse, behind the stage, blessing the performance. Behold it! Behold the percussionists' smiles; behold their happiness as they notice how full the dance floor is. Behold the guests of the Grand Hotel Artémis dancing clumsily to that Caribbean rhythm. Behold them! Behold the awkward way Mademoiselle Troffeunt kicks her left leg forward and shakes her shoulders. Behold her turquoise scarf swaying amidst the movements. Behold the delicacy with which Monsieur Guillaume tilts his hips to the right, preparing to lead Mademoiselle Pensevignt into yet another unnecessary turn. Behold the immensely respectable and as-yet single Mr. Carrington casting a longing glance at Mademoiselle Pensevignt’s bare arms and armpits. Behold the way his mouth respectfully conceals any hint of bemusement. Behold Mr. Carrington’s right leg bouncing up and down, up and down, to the rhythm of the song. Behold Herr Müller standing beside the liveliest guests, leaning on his cane, moving his left hand only to that same rhythm. Behold his immense smile, his laughter filled with remembrance of times when his legs could accompany the legs and sways of such lively and exotic music. Behold Frau Müller standing as stiff as the Muses next to him — behold her! Behold the impeccable French twist of her auburn hair, behold the glimmering white pearls around her forehead and neck. Behold the rich reddish-brown hue of her Marsala satin evening dress and lips. Behold her as she raises her champagne glass to her lips, following her daughter's movements. Behold Fraulein Müller heading toward the restroom, already searching for something in her small handbag, behold her! Behold the dark brown walls of the hallway leading to the restrooms. Behold the gold symmetrical lines carved into them with great precision, behold the craftsmanship behind each of the fourteen wall sconces casting perfectly triangular cones of gold light upward, leading to the two identical mahogany doors, one for gentlemen, one for ladies. Behold Jacques, the restroom attendant, hurrying out of the door to the right. Behold his impeccable white uniform; behold how he nervously stuffs a wad of bills into a pocket already bulging with cash. Behold the small pearls of sweat forming on Jacques's forehead. Behold it! Behold the wide-open door of the men's restroom. Behold how Madame Joujent holds it open with her shoulder after bursting in. Behold the expression of pain on her face, the tears in her eyes, the pistol in her right hand. Behold Monsieur Joujent leaning back against the sink, his tie undone, his fly unzipped. Behold the shock written on his face, his wide eyes staring at Madame Joujent. Behold his lips parting to produce a scream, to give an order, to beg for understanding. Behold Michel's rumpled white uniform, behold it! Behold his shirt, can you see it is untucked? His tie is crooked, behold it! Behold how Michel positions himself over Monsieur Joujent; behold how he kisses his neck with his whole mouth, his reddened, moist lips playing over the goose-fleshed skin. Behold his hand caressing the bulge in Monsieur Joujent’s trousers, still unaware of the intrusion that has just taken place, behold it! Behold his other hand resting on the sink; behold what is near it; behold those two Baccarat crystal champagne glasses with golden brims. Do you see them? Do you see one of the glasses is still full? Behold that one. Behold the bubbles in the champagne. Do you see the bubbles? Well then, observe. Behold those two bubbles that have just broken free from the glass. Behold them, free and untethered. Behold how they rush to rise up; they are rising. Behold how they race each other, how they shoot up through the champagne, trying to overtake one another as they sprint to the brim. Behold them! Behold the incredible way they reach the finish line at the same time. Behold them popping on the surface of the champagne. Behold! First one: bang! Then the other: bang!