Imagine for a moment that you are a pretty young heiress named Michelle Laurentia.
You are engaged to a handsome young artist named Alphonse Gray, but your parents do not approve, because he is so dreadfully poor and not from a wealthy family.
(Your mother also has a another reason: she thinks he is rather lacking in character and far too full of himself. She would be correct, but you are too in love to agree.)
So he makes a promise to your father that he is going to travel the world, showing his paintings to all different people until he finally finds someone who sees his talent, at which point he will become rich and famous and able to provide you with a respectable home.
This takes a very long time, but you don't mind. You are one of those people who has never been exposed to bad things, and you sit in your family's mansion having tea and being beautiful without ever supposing that your dear Alphonse might be having affairs all over the world.
Because he'd never do that, would he?
Anyhow.
One day, ten years later (you were seventeen when you fell in love with Mr. Gray and are now twenty-seven), a glorious thing happens! Alphonse writes to you and informs you that, thanks to this painting he's done of his new artistic muse, he's become dreadfully famous in a City Very Like Paris! He now has piles of money, lives in a seaside manor, and is a member of high society. At last, he is ready for you to come and live with him and be his wife.
That part about having a new artistic muse is a bit worrisome. He had always used to call you his muse and paint you when he was around all those years ago. But.
Your poor mother is now dead. Your father is now senile. There is no one to disapprove anymore.
And so you pack up your dresses and your jewelry and travel to your fiance's seaside manor, and you're so dreadfully excited, and you run up the steps to the elegant front doors and give them a gentle little knock, and you're all ready to leap into your dear Alphonse's arms when he comes to answer the door, and then-!
Wait. Who is this?
Who is this skeletal little creep wearing some kind of an outlandish fur-suit-cape-disaster?
Well, well, well. This is Jezebel, Alphonse's new muse.
He goes to parties with Alphonse.
He uses a great deal of Alphonse's new money to pay for ridiculous outfits just like that one.
He lives in Alphonse's grand seaside manor, did you know that?
It's apparently all part of a deal: Jezebel is constantly available for being painted,
and Alphonse gives him a luxurious life in return.
Didn't Alphonse mention any of that in his letter? No. He didn't.
And likewise, he didn't see fit to inform Jezebel of your existence. You are a great big surprise.
Oh, well. You are a very optimistic (and a very naive) girl. You and this Jezebel will surely be the best of friends. And when you and Alphonse get married, Jezebel will surely be made to leave the house and find his own living arrangements....right?
Ah, you silly girl. You are counting your eggs before they hatch.
You are still assuming that you are going to get married and live happily ever after.
You have only just arrived, and so you've not yet become acquainted with Jezebel. You have no idea about his obsessions or his easily jealous nature or his addiction to being the center of attention at all times or those nasty little hallucinations he sometimes has.
My dear Michelle Laurentia, do you see that pale little waif standing before you?
I regret to inform you that he is about to ruin your life.
