An Orphan’s Progress
Geoffroy, no longer young and a man of importance, could have ridden in a luxurious coach. He chose to walk, because he enjoyed walking. If Zarafa was going to walk he would walk with her. No strolling, though—her long legs would require his most vigorous stride.
Fond of Zarafa, Geoffroy fancied she had grown fond of him, too. He walked a lot, often in exotic and uninhabited places, but five hundred miles would test his stamina. He and his beautiful companion, accompanied by a well-supplied retinue, would be cosseted. She had already walked farther than they would walk together, and he looked forward to sharing this last part of her journey.
They made landfall on Tuesday, the 31st of October. All passengers went ashore for their first night back on terra firma. After the shortest possible obligatory ceremony, Geoffroy and Zarafa retired to their respective quarters and avoided the public eye. The pair wintered near Marseille, although Geoffroy devoted much of that season to travelling for academic and social purposes. He nevertheless made a point of ensuring Zarafa was comfortable, healthy, and pampered.
Spring and warmth sent Geoffroy and Zarafa and their retainers walking north. The first days presented no problems. At low elevations, the long days of walking proved more exhilarating than tiring. Onlookers’ acclaim pleased Zarafa less than Geoffroy, but a coterie of soldiers accompanying the celebrated pedestrians ensured that gawkers cleared the way for the two celebrated pedestrians.
When the weather turned inclement, Geoffroy instructed a servant to retrieve the foul-weather gear specially-made for his companion. She seemed to dislike her new coat, but Geoffroy believed it would enhance her health and comfort. They resumed walking and soon gained elevation, as they ascended the road through the mountains.
In his private thoughts, Geoffroy likened Zarafa to a ballerina, graceful as the dancers in Le Ballet de l’Opéra. Her grace and stamina impressed her companion. Walking with Zarafa as much as possible, he sometimes took a break to relax in a coach—not without ensuring the beautiful orphan received the best possible care.
Zarafa, hale and younger than her companion, seemed to grow healthier and more robust as she walked. Until this journey began, Zarafa spent her entire waking life running and walking. Geoffroy might ride the coach, but Zarafa preferred to feel her feet on the earth. Geoffroy fancied Zarafa missed his company when he rode, though, and accordingly made an effort to walk with her whenever weather and terrain allowed.
Geoffroy enjoyed Zarafa’s company. They conversed little—indeed, didn’t really converse at all. She couldn’t speak French, and Geoffroy, despite his broad learning and great knowledge, knew no languages in which he could communicate with his companion.
At the end of the long road, King Charles held a reception in Zarafa’s honour. The king’s linguistic skills did not exceed Geoffroy’s. The king honoured his new subject by bringing her food with his own hands but could never share more than friendly gestures.
Zarafa’s new home disappointed her with its small size, but relieved her of having to walk up hill and down dale all day every day. Her new estate provided barely room for a stroll. Still, she enjoyed the comforts of her new domicile and her little outings.
Geoffroy visited Zarafa often in her new accommodation. He still found her beautiful, but she was not his, had never been his. Zarafa belonged to the king, her affection for Geoffroy notwithstanding. King Charles respected Geoffroy, however, and allowed Zarafa’s friend to visit her at will—just as well, since the pair outlived the king by more than a decade. The king’s visits to Zarafa ceased three years after her arrival. The two never grew close, so she didn’t miss the royal visits. Nobody told her Charles had abandoned his throne and fled the country nor informed her of the king’s death six years later. Zarafa received so many visitors that she never noticed the royal absence.
Geoffroy never loved Zarafa but always admired her graceful beauty. Her contributions to his professional career and reputation evoked his gratitude. Geoffroy visited her occasionally as years passed, but his academic work meant those visits became less frequent. Blindness ended his visits fourteen years later.
A full-time professional entertainer, Harlan Yarbrough has written five novels, three novellas (two published), three novelettes (two published), and eighty-some short stories, of which fifty-three have appeared in sixty literary journals in eight countries. His pseudonymous short story While The Iron Is Hot won the Fair Australia Prize.