CREATIVE WRITING

when i went to visit the musée des beaux arts in pau, i found the attached picture: pasie sewing in the bougival gardens. i decided to give her a story... (the painting can be found at the end of the story...)

Thoughts on Berthe Morisot, Pasie cousant dans le jardin de Bougival

On a warm afternoon in spring, Pasie was sitting on a bench in the Bougival gardens She was enjoying the sun, but she had also brought her needlework in order to look busy. Her hands were sewing, her eyes were fixed on her hands’ work, but her thoughts had gone different ways. It might have been the season and the white flowers in the bush behind her that caused her state of mind.
Pasie thought about that night last winter, when somebody had knocked on the front door in the middle of the night. Her mother had gone to open it, as her father had died years before. In her nightgown, the old lady had opened the door and let a young man enter the room who introduced himself as a certain Mr Edward McDuncan from Scotland. Having mentioned his name, he had taken his hat off and thrown a glance at Pasie who had been standing at the top of the chairs. Their eyes had met for a tiny short moment, but Pasie had known at once that this was a special person.
He had told her old lady that he was in a terrible hurry because they were waiting for him to arrive at the Spanish court. But it was a very cold winter and he had had a horse accident and therefore he had decided to knock at the next house he would come by. Mrs Delacroix had been very friendly. She had invited him to have a cup of coffee, to eventually have a bath and to stay until morning in order to get a new horse at the smithy’s. Mr McDuncan had gladly accepted the offer. And this had been the beginning of a wonderful story.
He had not left the next day because the weather had gone worse and, in addition to that, he had caught a terrible cold. As her mother was always to busy with the house and its organisation, Pasie had been the one to take care of him. He had been a very difficult patient – he had wanted to get up, refused her help and wanted to leave. But she had told him very resolutely that she would never accept that so that he had had to obey. Days had passed while she kept sitting by his bed like a nurse, caring for him during his fever. On the tenth day, he had seemed to get better again. He had sat up in bed and started to tell her stories about his past. Pasie’s eyes had been filled with joy. She loved stories and adventures, and Edward, as he told her to name him, knew lots of them.
He had told her about his work in Scotland, where he was working for parliament, about his many trips abroad, he had even been to the United States once, which made Pasie still shake her head in disbelief. But there had also been moments when neither of them had spoken, when the two of them just had sat next to each other, both reading a book. She had also, once or twice, read to him when he had been weak. But then he had started to quote from the works she was reading to him, which had surprised her very much. She admired his intelligence and his knowledge. Therefore, she had often discussed various topics with him. Especially the one which interested her most: Why did she have to stay indoors and sew and read meaningless books while men were allowed to do whatever they pleased? She had been very astonished when he had started to think about her question instead of telling her that this was meant to be so. He had made another point when he had answered that he couldn’t come up with a reason for this and that he would be perfectly pleased if his future wife was able to think for herself and to be open for discussion. This remark had made Pasie think about marriage. She wanted to marry. But, up to that moment, and even if she was already twenty years old, and people began to look at her as an old maid, a spinster, she had not yet wasted one single thought on marriage. But in that winter, when this perfect young man had spent lots of time with her, she came to think about it.
Edward McDuncan had soon recovered, the snow had melt and he left for the Spanish court in order to complete his mission. He had promised to come back and visit, when he would go back to Scotland. This had been eight weeks ago. Pasie was getting nervous because she feared that he had lied to her and she would never see him again.
That was the reason why she preferred to spend as much tie as possible outside in the gardens. She could no longer stand her mother’s reproaching side glances that told her that it was time for her to accept one of the offers of marriage. But Pasie did not want to think about it. She knew that if she accepted one of the proposals, she would end up in a sad life as a married woman. She knew what her friends had told her… Her best friend Suzanne had told her to refuse marriage proposals as long as possible she would lose her freedom if she accepted.
Pasie’s thoughts passed from marriage on to Edward. She thought about him very often. In fact, she rarely stopped thinking of him. She missed their talking about books, the world and especially, she missed his attitude towards women. In his opinion, they were full human beings like men and they should be able to word and speak up for themselves. Pasie would want to marry a man who shared these ideas, but those who had proposed were totally different from that.
It had got cold, so Pasie packed away her needlework and stood up to go inside, when she suddenly noticed a noise and a movement in the bush with the white flowers. She was frightened. What was that? Then, all of a sudden, Edward’s face appeared and he smiled: “Good Day, young lady. Did you miss me? I have just arrived from Spain. I wanted to see you first, before I pay your dear mother a visit.” Pasie was glad. They went for a walk in the gardens together, and as Pasie was quite cold, he gave her his overcoat. They spent a lot of time out there, until one of the housemaids called Pasie’s name and she had to go in. She said goodbye to Edward who promised to come by tomorrow.
The next day, he came round again. This time he went straight into her mother’s parlour and spent hours there, until her mother had the housemaid call Pasie to come into the parlour, too. When she arrived there, Edward was sitting in the room, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. He got up to greet her and asked her to sit on the chair beside his. Pasie’s mother had left the room. He went down on his knees, took a ring out of his pocket. “Pasie, I tried to forget you, when I went to Spain because I didn’t know whether I was ever to return to Scotland again. But, now, I have come to think that my home is where you are.” He paused and Pasie hold her breath. “Would you consent to be my wife?” he finally asked. “Yes, I will. I will.” Sometimes did still come true.