Jean Béraud, French
“…So Finally, the Stunned Agent Says, ‘Wow, That’s Quite an Act. What Do You Call Yourselves?’ And the Father Says…’The Aristocrats!,'” 1882
Oil on canvas
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/// Is “The Monologue” only a talk?
It amuses the crowd that he’ll mock
them, but he’s here to stalk
the girl in the black frock.
She is Belle, belle of la Belle Époque.
/// No one in this posh audience can know
that he’s here to be near the soprano.
He’s a droll raconteur,
but less famous than her,
and his goal is to “play Belle’s piano.”
/// Belle was widowed but ten months ago,
much too early to have a new beau.
Philipe’s totally smitten
and has more than once written,
but her answer has always been, “No.”
/// His monologue’s, witty and charming,
and he hopes that she’ll find him disarming.
He’d accompany Belle
on piano as well,
so their closeness would not seem alarming.
/// Belle’s defenses were breached by Philipe.
He convinced her his feelings were deep.
They toured; she’d sing, he’d play.
Close companions all day,
and at night in one bed they would sleep.
/// Philipe dreamed that they’d bond as a pair.
Not just on stage, but everywhere.
The size of each hand,
and the keys that they spanned,
Belle took note and was keenly aware.
/// His touch on the keyboard was light,
and yet, deftly his fingers took flight.
Now Belle quivers and fidgets
at the touch of Phil’s digits.
He plays “G” (spot on) every night.