Monsieur Magique’s Revenge

           

         “Ah, Mademoiselle Dobson,” said the magician, bowing slightly before opening the door wide for her. “Do come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

         “Why, thank you, Monsieur Magique,” she said, smiling brilliantly. Usually Zuleika didn’t waste either her smile or charm on men as gray-haired and bent as Monsieur Magique, but he was the president of Fédération Internationale des Sociétés Magiques, the oldest and most distinguished organization of magicians in the world.

         When the invitation to perform in front of the society arrived, Zuleika had said to Melisànde, “You must come with me. I want to make sure my hair is perfect. Only the greatest magicians are asked to perform in front of them.”

           

            “Only the French are able to appreciate art!” Melisànde had said.

            “That’s true,” Zuleika had answered smugly as she examined a curl dangling attractively over an eye. “Though it does make me feel a little nervous to think of performing in front of other magicians.”

                       

            After Monsieur Magique opened the door, Melisànde, clutching the casket of magic tricks to her chest, had trotted in behind Zuleika, like a little dinghy tied to a schooner.

            Monsieur Magique said, “But, Miss Dobson, the invitation was addressed only to you.”

            Zuleika replied, “Oh, I know, but I simply cannot perform without Melisànde,” which was not true. She just wanted Melisànde’s familiar face nearby for reassurance among this august company. “She is my assistant.”

            Monsieur Magique bobbed his head stiffly, and stood aside to let Zuleika lead the way.

            In a few steps, she was met by a footman who said, “This way, please.” Confused, she looked back, but Monsieur Magique had disappeared.

            The footman took them up a dingy, dusty stairwell, which ended behind the curtain of a small stage. The only prop onstage was a round table. Here Melisànde deposited the coffin and unloaded the contents.

            “When it is time for your performance, the gong will sound,” the footman said peremptorily.

            He led them to a small dressing room. “Also, you must wear one of these costumes. Would you like some tea or coffee before your performance?” he said.

            Zuleika waved him away. “Isn’t this strange, Melisànde? I thought I would meet internationally acclaimed magicians, instead, a servant is ordering me about. Hmph.”

            “Oh, Mademoiselle, they must be anxious to see you perform. I’m sure you’ll meet them afterwards.”

            Zuleika sighed and studied her face in the cheval-glass, which invariably calmed her nerves. “You’re probably right.”

            She poked through the strange costumes in the closet. “Well, I’m certainly not going to change into any of these clothes.”

            The gong sounded, a deep, long knell that Zuleika felt deep in her bones. “Oh, Melisànde, I don’t want to go out there!”

            “But, Mademoiselle, they invited you here. You cannot disappoint them.”

            “You’re right,” Zuleika said, trying to ignore the frenetic butterflies she felt in her stomach. In her innermost self, she knew she was only a mediocre magician, but she couldn’t admit it to anyone else.

            Zuleika walked onto stage. A spotlight clicked on, and a booming voice said, “Ladies and gentleman, presenting Miss Zuleika Dobson.”

            Zuleika smiled and posed prettily beside the table, waiting for the applause. None came. She shaded her eyes with her hand, and saw that every seat in the house seemed to be taken.

            Unnerved, she began her performance, but it went worse that it usually did. The assistant she had chosen from the audience glared at her the entire time she did the handkerchief trick. Someone in the audience yawned so loudly that she dropped the egg cup, and it rolled offstage, leaving gooey smears of egg yolk all over the stage.        When she held up the Magic Cannister, the deep voice boomed, “That is all I can stand, Mademoiselle Dobson.”

            The house lights were turned on, and she saw that Monsieur Magique was now standing beside her. He said, “So, are we all in agreement?”

            The audience roared, “Aye.”

            Zuleika smiled uncertainly at the president because he was a man, after all.

            He smiled back, not pleasantly. “Mademoiselle Dobson, you are a disgrace to our profession. Because we are all so tired of hearing about your ineptitude as a magician, we are sending you ahead in time, where we will never have to hear about you again. We will send your maid with you. It’s too bad that you chose not to change clothes. You are going to look very odd in the year 2004.”

            Zuleika, certain he was joking, laughed again, and so did the audience.

            Monsieur Magique offered her his arm and, suddenly cordial, he escorted her to dinner. Later he gave her and Melisànde a ride to the station.

            He said good-night and, after kissing her hand, added, “You may be interested in knowing that my son was at Oxford last spring.”

            “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Zuleika said icily. He shouldn’t blame his son’s suicidal tendencies on her.

            “You will be very sorry very soon,” he said.

            Zuleika fell asleep on the train, and woke up because Melisànde was shaking her vigorously. “Look, Mademoiselle, look! I don’t think it was a joke.”

            After rubbing her eyes, Zuleika saw that they were in a huge train compartment on wheels that didn’t seem to need tracks or a locomotive. Then she noticed the people sitting around them.

            Zuleika closed her eyes again. Surely, the world hadn’t changed this much. Men and women were sitting next to each other with many of them wearing next to nothing. A woman sitting across the aisle had a snake tattooed up one leg, and she had seven rings in her ears, one in her nose, and one in her eyebrow.

            A little boy was hanging over the seat in front of her and staring. His mother, whose hair was a strange brilliant green, said, “Sit down, Peyton. The lady’s just dressed up for Halloween.”

            Zuleika started to protest, but realized that she was dressed differently than anyone else here. She tried not to stare at everyone’s uncovered legs and arms, but it was difficult.

            “Let’s get off at the next stop and find someone who isn’t a commoner,” she whispered to Melisànde.

            When Zuleika stepped off the bus, the heat slapped her in the face. “Oh, my,” Zuleika said. The air reeked of the fumes from the loud shiny machines that seemed to be the accepted mode of transportation, for she didn’t see any trains or horses anywhere.

            “Miss, look,” Melisànde said, pointing to a machine holding newspapers. The date on the newspaper was October 31, 2004, and the city was Austin, Texas.

            Zuleika said, “He was right; I am sorry. How do I get back?”

            Melisànde, who had been talking to a hairy young man, said, “Look, Miss, he said that that is a big university.” She pointed across the street. “Maybe someone there could help us.”

            “Perhaps they can,” Zuleika said. “Let’s go see the head of the university.”

            “That will be the president,” Melisànde said, after consulting the young man again. “His office is in that tower.”

            “Well, let’s go then.” Zuleika blotted the sweat from her face with her boa. “The faster we get out of here, the better.”

            The young men on this campus seemed to be barbarians. None of them paid much attention to Zuleika, though she was so obviously superior to the other young women on the campus. The young man leading them across campus and talking to Melisànde wasn’t even paying attention to her. He didn’t seem to realize that Zuleika was superior to her. People seemed to be terribly tall, too; most of them towered over Zuleika.

            Zuleika was glad to step into a cool building. The young man led them into a lift that moved alarmingly fast. Melisànde and her young man were jabbering away in French. The young man, whose name was Sean, was a student of French history, so he was overjoyed to meet someone from the past who was from France. Zuleika couldn't stand him. He never looked at her.

            “ Melisànde, would you please tell your young man to go away!”

            “No, Miss Zuleika, I won’t,” she smiled at Zuleika impudently. “Everyone in America is equal, and women are equal to men. You’re not any better than I am here. I’m tired of being a maid, and I’m quitting, so Sean and I will both leave.”

            Taking Sean’s arm, they both stepped back on the elevator, and Zuleika stood staring long after the doors had closed.

            “Well, I didn’t need her anyway,” Zuleika said. “I will go talk to the president.

            She strode into the president’s office, and said to the young man behind a desk, “Hello, I’m Zuleika Dobson, and I would like to see the president.”

            The young man smiled at her and said, “Yeah, right, and I’m Huckleberry Finn.”

            “How do you do, Mr. Finn,” Zuleika said. “Are you going to announce me?”

            “No, Miss Dobson, I’m not, but that’s a great outfit. Are you with The Daily Texan?”

            “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I want to see the President! You’re being very rude.”
            “You’re good. You don’t even break character.”

            Zuleika didn’t bother talking to the youth anymore. She strode across the room and flung open the office door.

            “Hey, I told you, you can’t see him.”

            “Of course I can. He’s right there!”

            The rude young man grabbed her arm and tried to drag her out of the room, but Zuleika hooked her heels around the leg of a chair. He couldn’t move her without moving the heavy chair.

            “Help! Help!” Zuleika screeched. “Mr. President, I am Zulieka Dobson, and a magician sent me forward in time. I want to go home! If you don’t help me, I’ll fling myself from the top of this tower!”

            “Now, Bruce, why don’t you go and see if you can find someone who might be able to take Ms. Dobson home,” he said, speaking slowly and calmly. “Why don’t you sit here, Ms. Dobson. I can see you’re distressed. Would you like a glass of water?”

            “Thank you,” she said, accepting the glass of water. “I thought his name was Huckleberry.”

            The president shugged.

            She began to tell the president her story, when Bruce came back with a policeman.

            “Now why don’t you come with me, ma’am?”

            “I have no intention of going anywhere.”

            “Please, Ms. Dobson, go with the man,” the president said.

            “NO!!!!” Zuleika screamed, trying to run from the policeman. She would rather die than go anywhere with that common-looking man. She would have gotten away from the policeman, but Bruce caught her and held on to her while the policeman clapped the handcuffs on her.

            Bruce said, “Zuleika Dobson is a character in a book. She’s not real.”

            “But I AM!” she said, starting to shriek again. “I am real! Can’t you see me! I’m the one and only Zuleika Dobson!”

            As the security guard dragged her down the hall, Bruce said, “Sorry, sir. I thought it was a Halloween stunt. I didn’t realize she was one of the crazies!”

            Zuleika resides in the State School now, and she hasn’t convinced anyone yet that she is Zuleika Dobson. Melisànde, who was always smarter than her mistress, told no one but Sean about her past. She and Sean married, and they later won a Pulitzer Prize for a book they wrote together on nineteenth-century France.

             

 

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