Jours of Our Lives: 13) THE ISLAND LURE

An ongoing series about uprooting our lives in America and moving to France.  For what's happened before, see previous Jours of Our Lives entries here.

SUNDAYS ARE FAMILY days in France, days to relax and enjoy. We haven’t done too much of that, but it seemed right today—our last on the island. We would relish it. For lunch, we went back to La Maison, where a white Boxer pooch with a brown eye patch met us at the door. A gigantic Golden Lab and a little black dog were with their owners at a table near ours, while the Boxer stood at the door and longingly gazed in. This would be a three-dog lunch, which pleased us very much.

After lunch, we stoked the fire and finished our wine in front of it. Frida joined us. It reminded her of the cantinas she frequented in her old Mexico days.

When we told Frida of the smartly placed fort at Pointe des Poulains—the one we wanted to own—she said, You ninitos (I think that’s ninnies in Spanish), that’s the Fort de Sarah Bernhardt which she bought and made her summer home. Sarah loved Belle Ile.

Of course, Jim and I chimed together. We had to go back—Frida was dying to pay the chanteuse a visit. Frida always knew they’d get along famously, and so they did. We wandered all around Sarah’s beloved fort (pictured above, you can’t go in) and imagined the parties with clever patter, ladies fitted in haute couture, singing and dancing, sparkling champagne—all with crashing waves in the background.

I’ve been interested in Ms. Bernhardt since reading Liane de Pougy’s (on right) Blue Diaries. The two women knew each other, ran in some of the same circles, and turned Paris on its ear in their own ways. Liane greatly admired Sarah’s golden voice and skills on stage, and Sarah had given Liane acting lessons. After a few sessions, she told Liane that she had no talent and better stick to her beauty and dancer’s turns on stage—and that that would be enough. Liane never said a bad word about Sarah that I recall, which is saying a lot, because Liane was scathingly honest in her diaries—about herself and everyone else. Frida pointed out that she was no wallflower either and fit right in. But Liane wasn’t here today. It was Sarah, Frida, and me—three tempestuous women on this turbulent sea. Jim knowingly stayed out of our way.