Maung Tun Thu - Kim Millie

[ 1 ]

It is not easy to become fluent in a language without spending a lot of time studying it. In the same way, I believe it is impossible to create characters that are well-defined and come to life without spending a long time studying the personalities and characteristics of people.

I'm not experienced enough to create an interesting character with my own imagination, so I'm content to just retell everything as I know it.

I have one apology to make to the reader. I must admit that the story I am about to tell is a true account of a true event. All the people who took part in this story, except the main character, are still alive today. The eyewitnesses who helped me to find the information to tell this story are also to be found in Paris. If you say that you do not believe what I have told you, you can call all the witnesses and prove it.

I cannot thank you enough for the circumstances that created the opportunity for me to recount this event in detail. I must be grateful. If that circumstance had not arisen, I would not have been able to present this entire event in such a comprehensive manner that it would have immediately caught the attention of the public.

This is how I came to know of this event. On March 12, 1844, I saw a large yellow sign in Lafitte Street advertising an auction of household furniture and curiosities. It stated that the property was being sold after the death of the owner. The name of the owner was not given, but the auction was to be held at No. 9, De Anting Street, on March 16, from 12 noon to 5 p.m. As the advertisement stated, the property and the house were open to the public for viewing on March 13 and 14.

As someone who is interested in unusual items, I decided that this event was something I couldn't miss. Even if I didn't buy anything, I could still observe the interesting sights that come up at this event.

The next day, I arrived at No. 9, De An Tin Street.

Despite the early hour, a large crowd of men and women had already arrived. The women were dressed in their finest and most expensive clothes. Their own luxurious carriages were parked at the front door, waiting to welcome their mistresses.

Just by looking at this situation, it is clear that these women are from the upper class, but the women are so surprised and amazed that they cannot even pretend to be wealthy, as they stare at the objects before their eyes.

I also carefully studied the utensils and utensils. Only then did I see the reason why the women were so surprised. Only then did I realize the true situation I was in, inside the home of a prostitute.

If there is one thing that the upper class women want to see and do. (All the women gathered here today are upper class.) It is the homes of the women who ride alongside their carriages every day, who walk shoulder to shoulder with them, who buy their equal seats in the theaters, who compete with them in the streets of Paris for beauty, who compete with them in jewelry and gold, who compete with them in shameless debauchery.

The owner of this house has passed away, and the ladies who are on her property have the right to enter her bedroom. Death has already cleansed the air of this house, which is filled with unpleasant odors, and the ladies are now curious.

They have a lot of information to back up their claims. If someone asks, they will say, “We are here to see the items for sale, we don’t even know who the owner is.” They have seen the ad. They have read it. They want to know if it is true or not. They want to see the items before the sale date and choose the ones they want. That’s why they come here and look at them like this.

Could there be any more natural words than these?

In fact, the women in the middle of the beauty products are eager to learn more about the events behind the curtain of this upper-class, wealthy lady who owns the house. They have heard a few things about her through rumors. If they only heard more details, they would learn very strange and legendary stories. They think that there is no need to doubt her.

Unfortunately, the interesting stories of the mysterious and mysterious people have disappeared with the ghost. No matter how hard they tried, they only see the items they sell after the ghost dies. They will never know what items the ghost sold while it was still alive.

However, there are many valuable things that are worth buying. Look at the furniture. It is magnificent. The tables, wardrobes, and cat houses made of very beautiful and valuable wood are exquisitely crafted and have a unique design. The Chinese porcelain vases are of various shapes and sizes, beautiful, elegant, and unique. The carpets, tablecloths, and curtains that are laid out are not the kind that the average person can afford. No matter where they are, they are not cheap. All of them are extremely valuable.

I followed the dignified ladies and wandered from room to room. At one point, they entered a room surrounded by expensive Persian curtains. They all immediately left. I met them as they entered and exited. They all began to smile. As they entered this room, they began to express their own feelings of shame, embarrassment, and fear. Their indifferent expressions made me more interested in this room. The room was a dressing room. The cosmetics she had arranged in her place and were not a few, but of various kinds. Just by looking at these items, one could immediately recognize the wastefulness of the woman who had just passed away.

There was a large table against one wall of the room. The table was about three feet wide and six feet long. The cosmetics and beauty products on it were dazzling in the light. The collection was so vast that it was almost astonishing. This kind of woman would not need so many of these things, which were not gold or silver. It was impossible for a single lover to have bought them all at once. Each lover had bought them as he pleased and gave them to her as gifts, and it seemed that the collection had gradually grown into this collection.

It is not shameful to look into the dressing room of a high-class prostitute. So I took each item and examined it carefully, feeling satisfied. Each item was engraved with the initials and marks of the givers. There may be some reason behind each item that could be considered shameful.

I thought to myself, "God has mercy on this woman. Is it right for God to abandon Lucy, who is sinking into a life of great sorrow and misery, without doing anything to save her?"

One day, Lucy found out that she had a child. For Lucy, having a child was a great joy.

It was a good thing. Because of this, he forgot all the troubles he had experienced earlier. It's amazing how the human mind finds its own way to find solace.

Lucy ran to her mother to give her the good news. It was indeed a shame to talk about such matters. However, we are not talking about bad things that can cause happiness. We are just telling the truth. There is one thing. It is best to talk about such matters in private, with those closest to us. That way, we will be safe from people who want to criticize and scold us without knowing the truth of the situation.

In any case, Lucy's daughter told her mother about the embarrassing matter. The mother's attitude towards Lucy's affairs was clear. Lucy's mother said that their son and mother's life was a life that could be lived comfortably for two people. It would not be enough for three people. Such a child who would be born without a father was not worth anything at all. Raising such a child would only be a waste of valuable time. Therefore, she said that she could not raise this child.

The next day, a midwife who was a friend of her mother's came to examine Lucy. Lucy could not leave the house for a few days and lay in bed. Later, she began to walk around as before. But it was different. Her skin was paler than before. Her body was also more frail and weak than before.

After about three months, a man took pity on Lucy and tried to nurse her back to health. It was no use. The final blow was so severe that Lucy died from it. Her grandmother, however, is still alive today. How long will she live? Only God knows.

As I looked at the silverware, my mind wandered to an incident that had happened to me once. I spent a long time thinking about this incident. There were no other guests in the room. It was just the steward and I. The steward stood at the door, watching me intently. He seemed worried that I might miss something.

I approached the guard, who was looking for me in distress, and asked.

"Here, sir, do you know the name of the person who lived in this house before?"

"Madame Margaret Gautier"

I know her name. I've seen the person too.

"What, is Margaret Gauthier dead?"

I muttered.

"Yes, sir," the guard replied.

"When did it end?"

“I think I lost it three years ago.”

"So wait, why are you showing these rooms like this?"

“The lenders are trying to get a better price. If people can see the item in advance, they might be interested. And as you know, the item can entice people to buy it, right?”

" So, I'm in debt to Margaret Gauthier, right?"

"I'm posting it as appropriate, sir."

“But will the money from selling these items be enough?”

“There will be more than enough to pay off the debt.”

"Who gets the extra money?"

"He will get it from his relatives."

"Is it because he has relatives?"

“It seems so”

The guard seemed to have cleared his suspicions of me due to my observation. He respectfully greeted me as I left the room.

"Isn't his condition pitiful?"

On the way home, I spoke to myself.

"His death will be a sad one, because he was surrounded by friends who were only around when he was healthy."

I thought about Margaret Gauthier's fate and felt sorry for her.

Many people will think I am being foolish if they hear me say this. To be honest, I have an immense amount of compassion for women like Margaret Gauthier. I don't think I need to apologize for such compassion.

One day I went to the Paris police headquarters to get a passport. At that time, on a street near the police headquarters, I saw a girl being led away by two policemen, one on each side. I did not know why she was being arrested. All I knew was that she was kissing and hugging a one-month-old baby and crying. I was so sad to think that the police had taken her away from her. Since that day, I have never had the courage to look down on a woman, even if I had only seen her once.