New Fodder

It appears that in a misguided sense of ennui my sister has decided to employ some sort of local lass to aid in the dusting in her shop. It is not as if my sister deals with the hoi polloi herself for to sully herself with the vulgar rabble is beneath any Dubois. She tends to sit in her shop and when prospective customers enter she points languidly towards whatever item they have requested. If they have the poor judgement to reveal their ignorance she tends to stare as if they were glass figurines who suddenly achieved animation. Her little venture is not run with any resemblance of business merit and I suspect she merely has the establishment as a party favour. It serves to deflect those boring gentlemen of leisure when they ask how she keeps herself occupied, no doubt they assume being a Dubois she spends her days bathing in champagne only to dry herself on her money.

The shop manages to effectively conceal her complete lack of interaction with the world and had she been any other woman it would also allow her the vanity of indicating she is a business woman of sorts. My sister however is not of such ilk, she does not require the cloak of vanity, being a Dubois is all the merit she requires and despite her best intent to keep customers from engaging her attention, her wretched endeavour manages to make a profit. Even in absentia, she cannot help being a Dubois.

This lass that she has engaged, for motives as obscure as her thoughts, is no doubt as fascinatingly dull and vapid as her hair is blonde. One does not have much choice this town, at least not much choice from the only four streets that matter, we live in a social arena dictated by blood and location. For if you have the misfortune to live anywhere else, not discounting our compound or the winery of the local baron, then you are indeed invisible to our entire social stratum. Your lives are merely paths upon which we tread, your dreams are merely props to our ambitions, and your reality is a fantasy those like me allow.

I am not so vexed that she employed the miss as much as she did so without my input for she has learned many years ago that to make decisions without my sanction is never a wise course of action. My sister while absent is not obtuse, at least not usually and I row concerned that her obsession with the wine baron has dulled her sense of self preservation. Liselle should know better than to allow something to enter the Dubois realm, no matter how far removed without my permission. There is only one course of action I can take that will ensure my disapproval is adequately conveyed, I will return the favour by ruining this little miss promptly, nothing like a sobbing girl to send a clear message.

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