Courtesans   He doesn’t pick them for their brains. But they’re so pretty — no wonder he chooses them to beautify the court. The hats! The hair! They glow onstage, embodying the feminine in his lordship’s eyes. They get titles, too — Countess of the Constabulary, Duchess of Justice, Lady of Night, Mistress of the Privy Chamber. The air is thick with their perfume as each one schemes and murmurs in his lordship’s ear. Their smiles and curtsies are not what they seem, and in the glittering ballroom scenes, fear pervades the dance. By the end of act V, the last one is lucky to be alive.     © Michael Fleming Dummerston, Vermont January 2026