Chapter Two

Babette could not eat a thing the next morning; her stomach could not handle it. What else was there to do but change and simply wait for the relay?

She slipped on the only formal thing she owned, her mother's dress. It was a dress fit for her choice career, and the nicest one she had as well as the longest. She never doubted that she was a rebel in her own way, and many of her dresses rose slightly above her ankles and dipped a little more than usual below her neck. While a girl did not use her figure for anything inappropriate, what harm was there in flaunting a bit?

Babette could not help grinning as she thought of that personal philosophy, one of the many reasons Madame de Crochet did not approve of her. Life needed to be lived with caution but with fun at the same time. One could tread water as deep as they dared, just as long as they know what they are doing. If that was trouble, then she was a troublemaker.

With the changing done, she gathered her things again and headed downstairs. Just on time, the relay was due any minute. She walked over to the innkeeper still sitting at his little desk and handed him the promised ten francs.

"I always keep my word as you can see."

He looked up at her, eyeing the second payment. "Indeed you do..." His eye took on a greedy nature. She did not appear to have much money before, and he had not believed she would be able to pay. "But did you happen to notice the time?"

"The time? What about it?"

"'Tis passed ten; extra charge for late risers."

Babette raised an eyebrow. "That is ridiculous."

He shrugged, determined to make her see the sense in it. "Delays our process of tidying up the rooms; I might have had another customer who needed it. I like them done early for those who could actually pay."

"And you did not care to mention this? I do not have enough for any extra...!"

He jumped from his seat threateningly. "Another ten francs or else, wench, I shall have to report a room thief who could not pay the wage!"

"Oh come now, Pierre, how absurd is that?" came a voice from behind them. From what they turned to find, it belonged to a man who did not seem to have any intention of staying long, the relay Babette assumed.

The innkeeper scowled. "What right do you have to interfere?"

The man took out a few francs from his vest pocket, handing them out to him. "Because she is now in my custody."

Mockingly, the innkeeper replied, "One of the many women in your custody."

He only shrugged, taking on the provocation and keeping his offering extended. "So it seems, but the master's orders clearly stated not to return without her. She is of more use to him as another employee, nothing to do with me. But why should that concern you? You have your "late fee" francs, I meet with the lady to take her home, and she has a job. Works well for us all, I believe."

The innkeeper grumbled quietly, taking the payment before shooing them away. "Very well, get along out of here then."

He bowed slightly with a satisfied smirk. "Merci, mon ami." Turning to Babette, his smile grew gentler. "Now then, shall we be going or do you wish to stay in this despicable place?"

Without waiting as the answer was obvious, he started to leave, and she followed to their horses. After he helped her up, Babette observed him as he mounted his own horse and took the lead.

He was a tall and slim man, dressed splendid but rather casual, with his hair covered in the traditional white powder of a high servant rank. A closer look at his face showed that he was younger than his strong voice made him sound...and quite handsome, she thought as she blushed and turned her eyes to the path.

"You do not speak too much, do you?"

He was also blessed with the gift of interruption, she thought. "Pardon?"

He smiled, looking straight ahead at the road. "I said you do not speak too much, quiet as a mouse."

She shrugged, answering mechanically, "It is not my place to speak unless spoken to."

"Well trained indeed, but not the preferred manner for me. Not only is talking a good way to pass the time, but the only way to get to know someone." When she did not reply, he continued, peering over at her. "And as you have not told me your name, shall I simply have to call you "Petite Souris"?"

Babette did not return his glance. "I would prefer you not use a pet name."

"It is a problem?"

"It is quite unacceptable for you to do so, oui."

He laughed, shaking his head in an amused reaction, and she finally did look at him with challenge written across her face. Who was this man to think that not only he could call her these names but then to laugh at her for not wanting him to? "You find humor or pleasure in discomfort?"

"Try unexpected admiration in such a rare quality found in a woman."

"What quality?"

"The cleverness to oppose my words; promises to be a delightful time if you do indeed possess it."

"You take this as a game then?"

"I take many things as a game, mademoiselle."

She raised an eyebrow, wanting nothing more than to give him such a piece of her mind that he would have to stop talking to choke on it. "May I remind you, monsieur, that two could play your game."

"It usually does take two."

"Hmm, good to know; from what you said before, about cleverness being a rare quality in a woman, you take them as opponents to win over so you may gloat. Interesting."

He held his hands up in defense. "It takes all this just to ask what I can call you?"

"You started it."

"Just by asking for your name!" He smiled gently to soften the words. "You should get to know a person, like I am attempting to do, before you judge."

Much as she did not want to, Babette had to admit that he was right. Maybe he was not what he was possibly jesting to be, and with a defeated sigh, she replied, "Babette."

"What was that?"

"My name, it's Babette."

He grinned, "A nice one it is; now was that so hard?"

She shook her head in a negative response, and he stayed silent for a moment before trying to speak again. "Lumière." She looked up, and he smiled. "That's mine...just in case you were wondering."

With the exception of an occasional glance or comment on minor things such as the road or scenery, the ride continued in silence, for in Babette's mind, there was nothing else to say at present. The strangest feeling inside told her there would be more words, more meetings with this Lumière as time went on, but for now, their conversation was over.