More adventures

We continue our harrowing story of la petite americaine.

Professor Claude clicks through the slides to an image of a medieval marriage. “This is Charles IV,” he says, “Who was the first king of France, in a way.”

He is about to move to the next slide when a student (Dave, age 40) says, “Who is that angry-looking woman in the back?”

He points and the classroom strains to see a green-clad woman with a dour expression in the left corner. Admittedly, it’s a strange sight for a wedding portrait. Why include her? Why is she upset?

“I don’t know exactly,” says the professor. “We will probably never know.”

La petite americaine knows.

“Sir,” she says, “that is Blanche. She is the king’s former wife. She had two boys who died as babies and then an affair with a courtisan, so Charles divorced her to marry the other woman in the painting.”

The class turns to look at la petite americaine. Nobody ever volunteers information like that in class. That is not how it goes.

“Well,” Professor Claude says, “perhaps that is a good guess, but I do not know for certain.”

“I do,” she retorts, “I do know that for certain. Her name was Blanche.”

“Well, well,” he capitulates. We will see about that.

The professor brings up Wikipedia on his laptop and searches for Charles IV. Right there, under the list of spouses, is a woman named Blanche. He clicks the link and is presented with information on her life, including her affair and short-lived children. Because his laptop is hooked up to the projector, the class follows along.

Well, well, the professor says again.

He turns to the student who asked the question. There is your answer, I suppose, he says. The professor does not acknowledge la petite americaine for the rest of the class.

She is, to put it mildly, a bit miffed.

Later on, the class examines a symbolic painting of the death of a knight. An unearthly hand reaches down from the heavens to carry him to Paradise, and the hand has a halo around it. Oh, la petite americaine thinks, that is a straightforward metaphor. The hand is a saint or angel.

The professor calls on a young man who is well known on campus for being Catholic, because he wears a giant wooden crucifix everywhere he goes.

What do you interpret this to mean, he asks.

The hand has a halo around it, so it must be a saint or an angel. Also it is coming down from the sky, so it is coming from Heaven.

WOW, the professor says, and then has the entire class applaud him.

Steam rolls out of the ears of la petite americaine.

Thus concludes our short look into a moment in the studies of our heroine.

Cordialement,

Allison

P.S.: