Hi, ladies and gentlemen, this is the first time that I translate one of my fics into English so forgive me for committing so many spelling mistakes, it´s not my mother tongue. I´ve decided to separate the fic in two parts, in order to translate it better. Please if you see that something is written in a wrong way, inform me. I´ll be very thankful for it.

Hope you like it!

Regards!

Je nái jamais compris l´amour (translated into English)

"Hello, blue eyes"

Across the Avenue of the Champs-Elysees to Concorde Square, Francis was standing there making mentally mythological parallels between the river Lethe and the great length of the landscaped Boulevard. There, in that Ethereal place of the underworld rested souls more virtuous that there was in life and wondered if the bore of the mortal who believed forgotten, would wander now by retailers stationed along the most famous way of wanted to believe it; her soul had gone through hell on Earth. Burned against the will of God and the people, Joanne of Arc would have found a way that would lead him to forget such painful aftermath, bathing in the crystal clear and pure waters of Lethe.

La plus belle avenue du monde,thought Francis releasing a sigh to the dull atmosphere of the city, watching cars, oh hell and noisy steeds of the , that street, including the city, had ceased to remove this attractant glare inviting lovers to explore each span of pavement, each district or shop, each park and historic monument. Paris looked older, more off than ever. Most worn which was never before and was that stench at end and nostalgia that oozed of sewage and the glow of the Seine which is getting through the nostrils of passers-by. Rain, though gentle, covered it and wore everything, like a tedious curtain lasting days insisting on wet and dirty grey and beige walls of adjoining days of routine in the city of light. That was it facing each day Francis passed through that part of the metropolitan city. It was as if the color had hidden worldly rain, angry and haughty to the tonality of soot that had been taking hold of everything in its path.

He had spent much time as so that the memory of her remained.

"Ma Jeanne, I see you in every face, in every mirror in each ad where the beautiful women exhibit their best faces to sell some poultice without effect or benefit. But all of them are empty. They are vulgar housings of fleeting beauty that is wrinkled with time while you remain alive, full of light, impossible to fold..." thought the French lighting a cigarette against the window of a pharmacy. He gave a deep surface warships to the poisonous nicotine cylinder and felt that his lungs were poisoning itselves of that toxic cloud of smoke which, in a contradictory manner, soothed his torn heart.

" Do you want a flower, sir?"said a gentle singing voice behind him.

Francis turned around expecting to see another young saleswoman, perfect companion for which would be that it would be another night of loneliness filled by an unknown woman lying between pleasurable moans wrapped in silk garnet sheets, but it was wrong.

There, after a rusty flower truck , a girl with short blond hair and bright sapphire eyes offered a lily to him, heraldic flower of the nation.

His everlasting heart pumped blood more forcefully that never while he saw that the living image of her Warrior maid offered buy the Fleur de lis. There was, wherethe color was hidden where the chromatic had gathered to reveal, like the X in a treasure map, the exact location of his beloved.

God, in his eternal wisdom, had been guarding his soul on the Champs-Elysées until, by the force of fate, he had resurrected it in the form of a naive street vendor. Francis tried to answer nervously:

"No, thank you. I have to go I..." He wanted to flee. Why do you want to flee, you coward rat? Francis asked himself not believing that after having been looking for her forever, then he would leave the young lady behind

"Are you sure you don't want to? They are discounted, sir"insisted the girl sensing with insight that she should not let him go.

Cigarette shook in his hand and he had to release it so that the ashes did not fall in his attire and ran the same fate as the young woman who he´d loved. The tailpiece was lost in sloshed street grime.

I do not want to disappoint you, don't come near me

That thought was throbbing in his temple as the drums which gave way to the death in the danse macabre of Saint-Saëns. Melody joined his mind, parasitic harbinger of misfortune. Francis needed to get out of there. But had to stay as being unpleasant and monstrous before that angel who regaled him with floral gifts?

"You know what? carry a bouquet to your beloved. And if she likes it, you can come here again"she said tenderly and candor while she gathered the finest examples of lillies and tended them to Francis, who watched her unblinking."consider it a gift from the House..."

"I don't think that's necessary, I don't love any woman"wavering, he stretched his arm and caught his cornflower gift.

She looked at him blankly, pale.

"But sir, it is impossible to believe it! You seem so...

"Seductive?" ended the Frenchman, trying to seem cynical"Miss,it flatters me but I am afraid that it is not so. I´ve never understood love. And now if you excuse me, I have rushed.

With a forced smile and a reverence of yesteryear, Francis tried to escape the young innocent, returning the bouquet. She contracted the face in a look of sadness, seeing as the man rejected those delicate corollas of sky, which seemed to wilt when they returned to her hands.

"You're just a coward, a ruin crapula fleeing of true love, fearing to tie up" seemed to say the lilies, furiously. "She has become to you, why don't you take it?"

"Listen ..."the surrender to the Kingdom of heaven finally arrived. Francis turned around and tried to apologize for his earlier conduct."I've behaved like a jerk and I would make up for it. How much do owe you for the bouquet?"

He wanted to pay in cash, but the girl prevented him with a new smile that illuminated the wet heart of the Frenchman, inevitably permeated by rain drops.

"It´s free, don't bother. It´s a present I want to give to you" She was so sweet , he couldn´t resist her magical spell. He wanted to be haunted again. Give up everything he had for a kiss from her fleshy lips of cream.

Francis aspired the scent of lilies which seem lively and full of colour, it was as if they held his decision; not to flee again.

" How should I take this gift? -"the Frenchman dared to ask .

"Let's just say that ypu give me a very familiar feeling. You are very close-to me" a blush appeared on the cheeks of the young woman. She pulled out of her apron a blue card grana and held it out to her customer"I'm Jeannette, and this is the address of my florist. If you want to go again, I will be delighted to receive you. Safe then, you already will have understood love."

I have it before me. But I need to know if you feel the same. Francis said those words in his mind as he kept the address on his suit jacket

"Could... would you like to dine with me today at Ladurée?" asked Francis, losing this old fox security.

Jeannette´eyes opened as two blue porcelain plates

"To the Ladurée? Oh I could not, is too expensive, I..."

"I insist. They also have the best macarons de Paris. It would be a shame that someone as sweet as you not try them." " sweet? Really? Francis, boy, you can do so much better" he thank himself. But she was not a nymphomaniac hooker who needed to placate his sexual instincts with him. Neither was a rich widow in need of young meat. She was a... demons can I courting an Angel? "my name is Francis, by the way. I had lost my manners with my attempt to run away from you."

Jeannette laughed at that comment, with a sound similar to the song of a Nightingale. Small bird of night which sings to the dawn.