Chapter 3- A Foreign, Homey Sort of Place
It was a wonder to Christina how Mr. Johnson managed to snooze with the coaches constant jerking. She watched with an impatient look in her glossy eyes as his wrinkled head lulled back and forth with every bump on the road.
They had reached Paris not ten minutes ago and were headed towards the humble inn they had booked rooms in for the night. She pulled her eyes away from her sleeping lawyer and forced herself to look out the window at the grotesque picture the street seemed to paint.
Poverty and hunger ruled supreme here, and it was quite clear that the many revolutions that had taken place in this very city, had done hardly anything to help those who were the very poorest. The air was filled with the putrid aroma of vomit and feces, and her ears filled with the sounds of begging and screaming.
All the peasants were scantly clad, and what was there to hide their yellowed skin, hung off of their skeleton frame loosely. Ever since they had entered the city, a small mob of these pitiful creatures had been following, their hands grasping at the dusty coach, their moans of hunger barely audible.
"Terrible, is it not? Truly, France must do something. Their poor are getting unbearable. Before long they'll have yet another bloody revolution," Mr. Johnson sighed, whipping his squinted eyes.
Christina just continued to stare out, praying this ride through hell would not last much longer. As if her prayer was answered, the coach came to a sudden, violent stop.
"Ah, Miss Chauncer, we are here. You look dreadful! Perhaps some rest would bring back your health. Yes, do retire to your room. I must write to this Doctor to tell him of our coming. Good day, and if you have any questions, please feel free to once I am back," Mr. Johnson helped her out and kissed her hand, a shiver ran through him as he did so. Then with a smile, strode off down the street, barking in English at the poor beggars.
Christina was far to vexed to argue over her appearance or of her state of well being. She did agree silently that she was tired and decided to go up and rest until Mr. Johnson returned.
She woke up around six that evening and deciding to go find Mr. Johnson to discuss what was to happen tomorrow, pulled on her robe and went to the door next her room.
She knocked on the door lightly and was quite taken aback when Mr. Johnson burst open the door in quite a furious manner, his hair all askew, shirt undone (not a very pretty picture) and his glasses perched upon his large, narrow nose.
"What!" he yelled furiously, though his eyes seemed to regret it once they saw whom it was.
For a moment Christina just stood taking the odd scene in and then, "Well, um, not to be rude, or prying but, what in heavens name are you doing?"
He seemed then to realize how very odd this all looked, " You hired me to save your friends life, thus I am now going over his records to build up our defense. I can't very well do that with out a foundation, now can I? Don't stand out there in that hallway like a little lost bird, come in."
Shaking off her look of surprise, she strutted past Mr. Johnson, who watched her every movement so intently he slammed his finger in the door.
"Mr. Johnson, what precisely are our plans for tomorrow, sir?" she asked, taking a seat by the fire.
" What do you mean, Miss Chauncer? We'll leave around six in the morning and arrive there about six in the evening. From there, well, we'll see once we've made it that far," he replied, taking the opposite seat, "You have a problem with worrying. There is nothing we can do about anything tonight so go get a bite to eat, get to bed, and don't worry."
He offered his hand to her, which she took, and helped her to her feet. Her skin was soft as the finest silk. As she thanked him for all of his help, he could not help but notice how much compassion shone in her eyes. And has she retired to her room, he breathed in ever last bit of her scent of Lavender.
As he smoked his pipe over his papers, he wept. Until this bright flame had entered his life, he had been a comfortable bachelor, now he was totally in every way, alone.
It was a wonder to Christina how Mr. Johnson managed to snooze with the coaches constant jerking. She watched with an impatient look in her glossy eyes as his wrinkled head lulled back and forth with every bump on the road.
They had reached Paris not ten minutes ago and were headed towards the humble inn they had booked rooms in for the night. She pulled her eyes away from her sleeping lawyer and forced herself to look out the window at the grotesque picture the street seemed to paint.
Poverty and hunger ruled supreme here, and it was quite clear that the many revolutions that had taken place in this very city, had done hardly anything to help those who were the very poorest. The air was filled with the putrid aroma of vomit and feces, and her ears filled with the sounds of begging and screaming.
All the peasants were scantly clad, and what was there to hide their yellowed skin, hung off of their skeleton frame loosely. Ever since they had entered the city, a small mob of these pitiful creatures had been following, their hands grasping at the dusty coach, their moans of hunger barely audible.
"Terrible, is it not? Truly, France must do something. Their poor are getting unbearable. Before long they'll have yet another bloody revolution," Mr. Johnson sighed, whipping his squinted eyes.
Christina just continued to stare out, praying this ride through hell would not last much longer. As if her prayer was answered, the coach came to a sudden, violent stop.
"Ah, Miss Chauncer, we are here. You look dreadful! Perhaps some rest would bring back your health. Yes, do retire to your room. I must write to this Doctor to tell him of our coming. Good day, and if you have any questions, please feel free to once I am back," Mr. Johnson helped her out and kissed her hand, a shiver ran through him as he did so. Then with a smile, strode off down the street, barking in English at the poor beggars.
Christina was far to vexed to argue over her appearance or of her state of well being. She did agree silently that she was tired and decided to go up and rest until Mr. Johnson returned.
She woke up around six that evening and deciding to go find Mr. Johnson to discuss what was to happen tomorrow, pulled on her robe and went to the door next her room.
She knocked on the door lightly and was quite taken aback when Mr. Johnson burst open the door in quite a furious manner, his hair all askew, shirt undone (not a very pretty picture) and his glasses perched upon his large, narrow nose.
"What!" he yelled furiously, though his eyes seemed to regret it once they saw whom it was.
For a moment Christina just stood taking the odd scene in and then, "Well, um, not to be rude, or prying but, what in heavens name are you doing?"
He seemed then to realize how very odd this all looked, " You hired me to save your friends life, thus I am now going over his records to build up our defense. I can't very well do that with out a foundation, now can I? Don't stand out there in that hallway like a little lost bird, come in."
Shaking off her look of surprise, she strutted past Mr. Johnson, who watched her every movement so intently he slammed his finger in the door.
"Mr. Johnson, what precisely are our plans for tomorrow, sir?" she asked, taking a seat by the fire.
" What do you mean, Miss Chauncer? We'll leave around six in the morning and arrive there about six in the evening. From there, well, we'll see once we've made it that far," he replied, taking the opposite seat, "You have a problem with worrying. There is nothing we can do about anything tonight so go get a bite to eat, get to bed, and don't worry."
He offered his hand to her, which she took, and helped her to her feet. Her skin was soft as the finest silk. As she thanked him for all of his help, he could not help but notice how much compassion shone in her eyes. And has she retired to her room, he breathed in ever last bit of her scent of Lavender.
As he smoked his pipe over his papers, he wept. Until this bright flame had entered his life, he had been a comfortable bachelor, now he was totally in every way, alone.