Paul looked at the lovely woman beside him, and bowed exaggeratedly. "May I walk you home, Mademoiselle?" he asked.
She giggled drunkenly. "Your home or mine?" she asked, with a mischievous grin.
Paul was momentarily shocked at such a blatant offer from Catrine, whom he had thought to be a girl of morals. Seeing the shock pass across his face, she giggled again.
"Do you think I'm serious, Paul? For goodness sake, I'm not a tramp! Don't you know a joke when you hear one?"
But this speech sounded rather contrived to Paul, whose upbringing had not left him with much humor about the selling of a woman's body. He forced a grin, and taking her hand, he began to walk up the street. Catrine frowned at his back, but followed quietly enough, allowing him to take her back to the flat she shared with her 2 sisters. He left her on the doorstep without another word, and went off to find his own shelter for the remainder of the night.
They met again the next afternoon on the stage, she as the fairy princess, he as her prince. When he looked at her this way, dripping with illusion, she was quite appealing, he thought. Perhaps if he could think of her this way, her 'jokes' would be easier to stomach. He decided to ask her out again that night, for he was unhappy with the way last night had ended. He debated whether to tell her why her joke had cut him so, and what she would think of him afterwards. He had not yet come to a decision when he was called to the stage.

They gave two performances that day, as it was Saturday, and he caught her offstage between them. He squeezed her hand as she passed by him to her dressing room, and she stopped, looking up at him. He stared at her for several second, tongue-tied, for in her stage makeup she was even more stunning than she had been the night before.

"I-I'm sorry about last night," he stammered, "I would like to make it up to you. Can you go out again?"

Catrine smiled. "I would love to, Paul. I'll meet you outside the stage door again tonight." Paul grinned at her, and rushed off to his dressing room to prepare for the evening performance.

As soon as the last bow had been taken, they both rushed offstage into their dressing rooms as eagerly as children. Paul's valise was lighter today, as he had found a small room to hire that very morning. He strode quickly to the stage door, and found her just arriving as well. Without a word, he took her hand and they walked along for a few minutes. He led her to a quiet café and took a table in the corner. They ordered the spiced beef that was the specialty of the house, and Paul decided that it was now or never.

"Catrine," he began, unsure of himself, "I didn't mean to be unpleasant to you last night. You see my... my mother was a ...tramp, as you call it." He lowered his head in shame, waiting for her rejection. There was no sound from her side of the table, and he looked up to find her staring at him with an expression of great concern and sympathy on her face, her hand over her mouth, and her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I... I didn't know, Paul," she said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry! I would never have joked so if I had known!"

Paul found himself comforting her. "It's ok, Catrine, it doesn't matter now" he murmured, reaching across the table to take her hand. "I'm never going back to that world, now that I am a dancer." In a tiny whisper, he added, "And now that I have you."