Intense Life V; a woman's scorn

Madame de Thoux could be surprising. I once learned by accident as I was in a florist shop that for two and a half years, she made a point of sending every week, a dozen dead roses to a woman she despised. I suspected, but never knew for sure, that there had been a touch of Mr. de Thoux in the whole thing, that either that woman made a run for him or that he tried something with her, but it may just have been that famous female jealousy, the type that only women can display and push to the hilt towards another woman, the intellectual verison of the infamous cat fight, if you will. There was never any card or any note with the dead flowers, the shopboy told me when he remembered a picture from a newspaper featuring both Mme de Thoux and me talking (of nothing) at some intermission of a concert or play at the local theater.

I was surprised at first but then, in fact, I could see the brilliant touch of Mme de Thoux, no explanation, no elaboration, a la Disraeli ("never explain, never complain") she just had the perfect tool; nothing to pin on her, no insult or language written, but a dozen dead flowers. She had come to set it up thefirst time, epxlained she would send money, in cash, no less every month for then ext four or five deliveries, no questions asked..

And what did it say? "You get the useless, and you get my scorn, I could send you live, beautiful flowers, but the effort and money I spend are to remind you of your littleness, no need to lower myself to sign or say anything, but I am not forgetting, and not forgetting." Only women can be this long, this silently and murderously vicious and vengeful for somethign that apears unrounded...
And you can't sue that...

It achieved nothing (well, maybe give the impression of Big Sister weighing down on her to that other woman), it just was, period. You don't sue over that, you can't call the cops, and Mme de Thoux, the little shopboy revealed to me in confidence, hadb ene very clear that tehre would be no link to her, clear? He was in awe... If she had asked him to collect and send canine excrement to the mayor or the Pope, he would have done it, enjoying the show, not even realizing he could belegally at fault.

That was Mme de Thoux. Silent, but perseverant, no need to explain but intelligent, matter-of-factly and well-thought.

And I could imagine her, walking in, with the diamonds of her yes planted into that youngman "It shall be so" and completely subjugated, enslaved by her as by a magic wand, he would walk through fire for her, just because.

I smiled, and told him never to reveal this to anyone else, ever, "or else". I walked out smiling widely, knowing he would now think I was in on it, or even threatening. Women!



Women do that