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On the dance floor, partners were lining up across from each other, smiling and laughing. The color was high in their cheeks. The music grew louder, and more insistent. And Belle, unable to resist it, impulsively joined in.
The next few moments sped like a ride through the woods on a wild horse. The touch of hands and whirl of bodies, the stamp of heels on the floor - it was intoxicating. Belle's heart beat in time to the music. She felt light and free.
When the dance ended, Belle was winded. Henri led her to the edge of the dance floor so that she could catch her breath, and there he bumped into an acquaintance of his, an actor from London.
"Edward and his troupe are in Paris for a production of Hamlet," he explained after he introduced Edward to Belle.
"Really?" Belle said, excited to meet such a distinguished person. "I would love to see it. Hamlet's one of Shakespeare's best plays, I think. Better than Macbeth and Othello."
Edward gave her a patronizing smile. "Oh? And what does a pretty girl know of Shakespeare? Let me guess...'To be, or not to be: that is the question'?" he drawled.
Belle winced at the man's rudeness. She'd met his kind before. Villneuve had its share of self-important swaggerers, and she'd learned how to deal with them.
Smiling sweetly, she cleared her throat. "'Who's there?'" she intoned, in as deep a voice as she could muster.
Edward blinked at her. "I beg your pardon?" he said.
Belle cocked her head. "Surely you recognize the play's opening line, monsieur?" she said challengingly. "Why don't you take the next one? And then back and forth we'll go until one of us makes a mistake."
Excitement rippled through the crowd. "A contest!" whispered a woman. "A duel of words!" trilled another.
"Don't be silly. I'm a trained Shakespearean, a thespian of great renown. You'll only embarrass yourself," said Edward scornfully.
Henri's eyes twinkled with devilry. "Come, Belle," he said baitingly. "Monsieur Edward, it appears, is afraid of a dare."
Edward snorted. "That's absurd," he said. Then he turned to Belle. "When you lose and are crying in your hankerchief, mademoiselle, don't say I didn't warn you."
"I won't," Belle promised.
Edward took a deep, theatrical breath and blew it out again. He closed his eyes, touched his fingers to his temples, and in a booming voice said, "'Nay, answer me; stand, and unfold yourself!'"
"'Long live the king!'" Belle replied, grinning.
"'Bernardo?'"
"'He.'"
"'You must come carefully upon your hour.'"
"''Tis now struck twelve; get thee to bed, Francisco,"' said Belle, without missing a beat.
Edward's smug expression melted away. An anxious one took its place. The words flew fast and furious between them, marveling as true as a marksman's shot. The crowd pressed in, marveling as Edward and Belle shifted from line to line, and character to character, without so much as a stumble.
Scene One gave way to Scene Two. Sweat beaded on Edward's forehead. Color rose in Belle's cheeks. Her grin broadened. Her heart thrilled to the competition.
Hamlet was Pere Robert's favorite play. How many dull, rainy mornings and endless winter afternoons had the two of them spent reciting it? Sometimes Pere Robert would take the part of Hamlet, brandishing an old broom as a sword. Other times he was Gertrude with a dish rag on his hand. Belle might be Ophelia one day, Laertes the next. She could recite the play in her sleep.
Scene Two shifted to Scene Three. Edward had just launched into Laertes's lecture to Ophelia on her conduct when he flubbed a line. Belle picked it up, finished the soliloquoy, and curtsied. As she rose, the crowd burst into applause.
"That, monsieur" she said pertly, "is what a pretty girl knows about Shakespeare."
Edward gave her a stiff bow, gracelessly conceding defeat, and turned on his heel.
Henri was instantly at Belle's side. "Well done!" he said. "Serves him right, the pompous fool."
"Henri!" Belle scolded.
"Sorry but it does! And he is!"
Lost in a Book by
Jennifer Donnelly, pages 77-80,
hardcover edition and
paperback edition