Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [80]
Urged on by his free-loving literary friends, and embarrassed by his continued bachelorhood, Verne had taken the train back to Nantes for the local theater production of Broken Straws. Using expensive paper and his best penmanship, he sent Caroline a special invitation to join him in his private box.
She had come to meet him at the train station, waving to welcome Verne back to Nantes. Cocking a parasol on her left shoulder, she allowed him to take her arm, which made Verne so giddy he could barely walk a straight line. She strolled beside him along the street toward the blossoming lime trees in front of the Church of St. Martin. “I look forward to your play, Jules, and I gladly accept your invitation to attend.”
Behind them, the train let out a shrill whistle then began to chug away from the station. Loud bells clanged the hour at the distant dockyards.
Even through misty eyes, Verne could see that Caroline’s smile looked friendly, but no more than that. “However, I believe it would be better if I sat a few rows away. Remember, I am a married woman, Jules.”
In the two years Verne had been in Paris, Caroline’s husband had sent no word about his search for the Northwest Passage. No one had heard from Captain Hatteras or his crew. Granted, the Forward had undertaken a long and hard journey, and it was still possible that everything had gone as planned . . . but she had been with her husband for only a short time in the first place, and now Caroline lived as a veritable widow -- in reality, if not in fact. . . .
Some time back, when Verne had informed her of receiving Nemo’s letter and journal, Caroline had been overjoyed and vowed to do something about it. She had rallied support from her father’s merchant fleet, and Monsieur Aronnax had sent letters to shipping companies and foreign ambassadors. The respected merchant had, after all, made the original arrangements to have Nemo ship out on Captain Grant’s last voyage. Everyone agreed to search for the mysterious island, using the best descriptions in Nemo’s handwritten journal -- but there could be little hope of finding an uncharted speck of land in such a vast seascape.
Verne, however, knew never to underestimate his friend. Nemo had survived for years alone. He must still be alive. . . .
On the opening night of Broken Straws, Nantes received Jules Verne as a minor celebrity, and he passed the hours in a daze. During the performance he looked across several rows of seats to catch Caroline’s sparkling eyes. His heart warmed when he saw her laugh at the witticisms in his play, at the farcical plot. When the curtain dropped, she was the first to surge to her feet and clap her hands, beaming with obvious pride.
Blushing, Verne pretended to be humbled by the applause and adulation of his former townspeople. But it didn’t last.
#
Though it was a gloomy autumn day in Paris, Verne felt confined and stifled inside his chill room. He decided to eat his lunch outside, despite the rain.
Though safely back among the literary salons and the intelligentsia, he continued to be troubled by unsettled digestion. As a student on a meager budget (much of which went to purchase books and library services), Verne ate far too much cabbage soup and far too little meat. After his success in the Nantes playhouse, he had hoped for a bit more extravagance and luxury in his life, but so far he had seen none of it.
After buttoning his thin coat, Verne gathered a broken half of stale baguette he’d bought at discount the day before and the dregs of a cheap bottle of wine. Not quite the same as when he’d dined at Monte Cristo with Alexandre Dumas. . . .
He planned to carry his umbrella and sit out in the damp, just breathing and thinking, allowing his imagination to roam. He could soak up the details of life and people around him -- as the great Dumas had suggested he do. It would be fodder for his writing.
Verne glanced out his narrow