“Hérène often went, through a labyrinth of lawns and bushes whose ancient order charmed her, to seek afar, in a little pavilion, favorite peacocks that could only tolerate her presence. They were seductive and extraordinary fêtes, those evenings of golden moonlight in which she was alone, frolicking with them. The great sacred birds displayed their tails in the taciturn light, and came to her without screeching. The living and sumptuous orb of their plumage displayed ocellate pupils to the mystic star, which shone like precious stones endowed with thought. From everywhere, those vast tremulous and silky expansions surged forth in response to the princess’s appeal. Lying back in the flowers, bathed by diffuse light, she let her hands wander in the plumes, her fingers collecting imaginary jewels there, and the supernatural fans of their circles soothed her face with the warmth of the nocturnal summer. It was an aristocratic and rare coquetry that suited the girl with the pale cheeks. 

“One night, when she was asleep in her room, leaving her windows open, a singular rustling woke her up, and she saw great shadows around her, mingled with patches of light made by the reflection of trees. It was her peacocks. They had finally come to her, having crossed the balustrade and come in; and around the bed, and even on the wooden bed-head, they silently unfolded their glorious shields of aquamarine, silver, sapphire and nacre, like a royal guard, an elite among all the armies of the land of enchantment, to protect the slumber of the precious child with magnificence.”

Camille Mauclair