CHAPTER 8

Monsieur Sorbonne Is Content

Having claimed the new strength in himself because of how he had spoken to Mademoiselle Objet, feeling the residue of light in his body from having photographed Madame Métier, and having received the onslaught from the Curator Chief in a state of composure, Monsieur Sorbonne was also changed.

No longer did anything matter. Or rather, it all now mattered differently. What no longer mattered was his work, his gainful employment, the endless demanding and boring particulars of it. He had no passion for it anymore, no overweening concern. Instead he saw it simply as a job, and he did it. No longer enslaved by Etruscan crumbs or Peruvian pot shards, now when his eight hours were done, he quietly locked up his crypt and went out walking with his camera, his third intelligent eye, until he could see—that is to say, be moved so deeply by something—that he felt compelled to record it.

He found a great satisfaction in this, and each time his photographs were developed—a beautiful face, a body elegantly in motion, the encounter of two lovers, children imagining things—he made a large portfolio of them. In time, he showed them all to Mademoiselle Objet, who was quietly astonished by them. And when he saw the pride in her eyes as she admired his work, he felt moved once again, to photograph her. So it was that often, on a Saturday or Sunday, in the pale gray light that fell in through the high curved windows of their little house, with music playing in the background, her eyes to the sky, her hands to her cheeks, sitting, knees folded, arms wrapped around her legs, he would once again capture the soul of the lovely Mademoiselle Objet.

Such joy did he feel in all this, such a quiet refined contentment that Mademoiselle Objet in his presence also always could feel it.

“You’re happy now, aren’t you?” she asked him one night before they went to sleep.

“Yes,” he said.

“Why are you happy?” she asked.

“Because you love me. Because you have found peace. Because from time to time I can photograph Madame Métier and sit in her presence. Because at last I have found a life’s work with meaning.” So saying, he reached out beneath the soft blankets and sheets and took hold of her hand. Then, blissfully, holding her pretty hand, he fell asleep.