Madam

A woman who runs a brothel.

April 1943, Paris: “I shall remember for the rest of my life those hours spent with four jaded tarts, so worn out and disenchanted they didn’t even bother with make-up any more. They were expecting to have to evacuate the area at any moment. They were much more interested in getting some sleep than in turning a trick, and none of my guys was in the mood for any fun and games. They sat there quietly drinking Moselle wine. There was a general air of melancholy, which even affected the madam, who out of despair stood her round. Everyone was isolated with his or her own memories. And it was at that moment, as though through a mist, a greenish cloud which does not deceive, that I saw four of the ten faces turn a pearly grey, become attenuated, spare, translucent, then blurred. I even scribbled on the tablecloth some fragments of a poem: ‘Yes, I see you marked out beforehand/ My brothers on this last morning…’”

Jacques Yonnet, Paris Noir: The Secret History of a City (1954).

[Translated by Christine Donougher]