The edge of the island was a sheer drop in the sea. The only way up, when the causeway was revealed at the end of each lunar cycle, was a zigzagging road climbing up the southern side of the island.
Haidée sat on a small outcrop overlooking this shore. Behind her was the village. In front, was the sea and the white shore of the mainland in the distance. That shore seemed very close yet also very far. On the slate blue estuary, there was a small fisherman’s boat rigged with a white sail. A solitary figure stood in the vessel, pulling up netting and fish.
“I feel like I’m almost at the end of the world,” she murmured.
Renaud was sitting not far away. The picnic basket was the only thing that separated them. “Oh, this is far from the end of the world. Perhaps, if one were in America, one could say so.”
She wrapped her arms about her knees. “I have heard the New World is overrun by savages. I would only go to the end if it were still a bit civilized.”
“You don’t sound very adventuresome.”
“Maybe I’m not.”
She turned her cheek to look at him. Renaud was leaning back on his elbows and looking out towards the sea, watching the fisherman do his task. He had taken off his spectacles and put them in one of his coat pockets. His dark hair was tied back with a thick white ribbon, but the wind kept tugging the strands out of the queue.
“The theatre director forced me into this vacation,” she suddenly said.
“Oh? Did he have a hard time getting you out of Paris?”
“Not really.” She leaned forward to pull a bit of yellowing grass out of the earth. “The director said that I was stressed from all the work at the theatre. At the time he told me, I dismissed it, but now, I think he may be right.”
“This vacation of yours is turning out to be anything but stress free.”
“I know.” She managed to pull out a blade of grass with its roots intact. She flicked it away. “I think I’m beginning to tire of acting. Maybe I should get out while my career is at its height and start over elsewhere.”
“Like where?”
She was silent for a moment as a sleek, black feathered bird swooped down from the sky towards the sea. Its red eye winked at them like a faceted ruby catching the light. It was a cormorant, out to catch fish like its human counterpart on the small boat.
“Where are you going after you make your report to your superiors about this island?” she asked instead.
“I’m not sure. I have heard, though, that they want to send some people out to Austria. To Vienna, to be exact. If that happens, I’d probably go as an astronomer again—some of the Austrian intellectuals are far more connected to their government than it is here in France.”
“Vienna is very far away,” she said softly.
He turned to look at her. “Vienna is a civilized place. It has theatres and operas. I’m sure you could go there and fit in quite easily.”
“Do you think so? There’s the matter of a different language. And I’ve heard rumors that the Viennese have strange habits.”
“You don’t look like a woman who would be easily put off by strange habits.”
“Hm.” She reached for the basket. “I’m starving.”
Renaud was quicker. He flicked open the cloth covering the interior of the picnic basket and looked inside. “What is this?” He retrieved a bottle. Haidée’s bottle of tonic—the poppy wine.
“Give me that.” She snatched the bottle from his grasp. But he didn’t just let her take it. He grabbed her waist and pulled her over the basket towards him. She landed on top of him, her arms outstretched to protect her precious tonic from smashing into the ground. “No! Let go of me.”
“There are strange habits and then there are bad habits.” He grunted when she tried to punch him in the stomach. He rolled with her until he ended up on top. He wrenched the bottle out of her fingers and flung it over the cliff. “You really have to control yourself.”
She gave a cry as she watched the bottle go over. She turned her gaze back on him and her fingers dug harshly into his arm. “How could you do that?”
“Every time you take a drink, you make yourself worse. Don’t you know laudanum is addicting?”
She stared at him, thinking. It was just one bottle. In her trunks, there was more. “All right,” she said. “You win this time.”
“Good.” He leaned down to kiss her. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard. She wished that he hadn’t stopped. “Lunch,” he said abruptly, although his voice sounded a bit hoarse. “We can’t forget about lunch.”
“No.” She grabbed the lapels of his coat and dragged him back on top of her.
“Haidée…”
She pushed with her legs and they were rolling again until they suddenly stopped on a small grassy place a little below the rocks they had been sitting on. The view of the village was obscured by the rocks. But there was still the view of the sea and the bright sky. Renaud was sprawled on his back blinking up at her. She straddled him, feeling the sun behind her.
“Oh, you can’t,” he whispered. “Anyone can come by and see us.”
She gave him an impertinent smile. “Don’t act shy now. That’s half the fun.” She lowered her mouth to the edge of his jaw and felt his facial muscles twitch under her lips. She breathed in the scent of his skin. “Don’t you want me, Jacot?”
“Good God, Haidée.” One of his hands cradled the back of her neck. The other trailed down her body, momentarily lingering at the curve of her belly, before it began pulling fistfuls of her dress up her waist. His mouth found her throat. “I want you too much. This is mad.”
“Sometimes insanity is good.” She gasped when his warm fingers found her thigh. In retaliation, she reached down to undo some crucial buttons. Her palm found him ready.
“Wait, Haidée…”
She gently bit his ear and he groaned. “Oh no, we’re not waiting for anything.”
* * *
The marten finally reached the southern end of the island, panting. Evading the cook with the giant cleaver was hard work. It had eventually gotten out of the observatory via an open window and had rested briefly to devour its hard won croissant before tracking down its mistress and her male companion with the large coat.
It spotted the picnic basket. Food! But where was everyone else?
The marten padded over to the outcrop of rocks where the basket sat and looked at the grassy turf below. It saw its mistress happily sprawled over the man. He wasn’t looking too vexed either. It turned back to eye the basket. It wouldn’t hurt to take a nibble of something, the marten reasoned. They didn’t look like they were going to miss lunch anyway.