Vendémiaire · Long Time No See, My Friend
"Al! You're squeezing too hard—I can't breathe!"
The joy of reuniting with a long-lost friend momentarily overshadowed all the worries Louis had carried during his journey. After an enthusiastic embrace and affectionate cheek kisses, Louis found himself laughing while complaining to Alfred.
"What an unbelievable surprise! Just this morning, I received two hundred gold louis, and now—my Louis, more precious than any gold—appears before me tonight! Seeing you here still feels like a dream. I can hardly believe you've really come to Paris!" Alfred exclaimed, giving Louis another fierce hug before slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him to the sofa.
"I thought I wouldn't see you today and was considering where to find an inn. Your concierge made it sound like you have social engagements every night—I'd already resigned myself to waiting until tomorrow."
"Never! Honestly, when the messenger found me, I first thought Marguerite was playing another prank. But when I learned it was really you, I left the restaurant so abruptly I didn't even say goodbye! Madame de Bourgogne saw me rushing out and asked what the hurry was. I just shouted, 'My Louis is here!' and dashed off. She probably thought I'd stumbled into a fortune. As if I'd abandon you to go amuse myself!"
Louis chuckled, studying his friend. Alfred wore a double-breasted white shirt and a black frock coat, left casually unbuttoned, with a gold watch chain threaded through the second-to-last buttonhole. His gray trousers, embroidered in black, were strapped under polished calfskin shoes—elegant, fashionable, every inch the Parisian dandy. His gestures exuded the effortless charm of the capital. Back in the provinces, such "dandyish extravagances" as strapped trousers would have been scorned.
Alfred basked in Louis' appraisal, even spinning in a circle to show off his slender figure and debonair style.
"Well? My dear little Louis, are you dazzled by my charms yet?"
Louis burst out laughing at his friend's peacock-like display.
"Holy Mother Mary, you've become a true Parisian! If our old friends from Saint-Étienne saw you now, they wouldn't recognize you!"
"Ugh, don't remind me of Saint-Étienne! Remember those suffocating 'formal uniforms' the supervisors made us wear for celebrations? I'd love to drag them to Bouisson's tailor shop to see what real clothing looks like!" Alfred plopped onto the sofa beside Louis, deliberately jostling him. "But why the sudden visit? No warning, not even a letter! I'd just moved here and hadn't written yet—lucky you found me!"
"Can't I visit because I missed my friend?" Louis blocked Alfred's sneakily advancing tickling fingers with an elbow. "Besides, I've never seen Paris. I was curious what kind of city could make my friend forget his poor country companion for so long!"
"Hey, I was about to write! And here you are, scolding me the moment you arrive!"
Their playful tussling was interrupted by Marie appearing in the doorway with a candle.
"Gentlemen, you'll have plenty of time to chat later," she said. "But in this weather, dinner won't stay warm forever. Reheating it wastes firewood and ruins the flavor."
Alfred blinked, as if just remembering he hadn't eaten.
"Marie, did you arrange for dinner?"
"Of course. Knowing you'd likely only just ordered when Monsieur Franlantin arrived, I sent Père Toussaint to Père Denis's for two of their two-franc set menus—his best dishes. Since you usually enjoy his cooking, it should suit both your tastes."
"Marvelous, Marie! You're as thoughtful as ever. I completely forgot about dinner in my rush home."
"Flattering, but it's getting late. If you delay further, you might as well take Monsieur Franlantin to Le Riffe for supper instead."
Alfred stood and bowed with mock formality, like a maître d'. "Monsieur, would you honor this poor soul with your company at dinner, and forgive his neglect of a guest who traveled so far?"
Louis adopted a stern, pedantic tone: "That depends on the host's sincerity. With sincerity, even coarse bread is a feast. Without it, no delicacies can..." He dissolved into laughter, breaking character—a callback to their school-day roleplaying games.
Alfred seized the chance to tickle him. Louis squirmed, nearly kicking over a candlestick in their scuffle. In the chaos, Alfred's gold watch chain came loose, and a unfamiliar timepiece tumbled from his pocket.
Louis snatched it up, holding it to the candlelight.
It was a remarkably thin, palm-sized gold watch by Monros, devoid of crests but exuding luxury. Even Alfred's gift—the Breguet silver watch Louis treasured—seemed clunky in comparison.
"Alfred! Where did this come from?" Louis frowned. "What happened to your original watch? The matching one?"
"Oh, this? Just gilt plating—for show!" Alfred's eyes twinkled. "My old one's being repaired. See the shop mark on the back? Not even a high-end jeweler."
Louis turned the watch over skeptically, but before he could inspect it, Alfred reclaimed it.
"We'll examine it later. Right now, dinner! You must be starving."
He pocketed the watch and hauled Louis up. "Père Denis's Rhine carp and roasted lamb are exceptional. You'll love them!"
---
The dining room glowed warmly, its small fireplace lit. A square table set for four to six gleamed with starched linen, gilded candlesticks, and folded silk napkins on blue-trimmed porcelain. Silver cutlery flanked six silver-plated dishes painted with shepherdesses, each holding a specialty from Père Denis's: Rhine carp, partridge with mushrooms, duck with turnips; roasted lamb leg, beef stew with carrots, and olive-roasted goose. Towering desserts—Breton cakes and madeleines—flanked steaming tureens of beef consommé and lily-root soup.
The lavish spread made Louis think of Fernand de Grandville, the title-holding count who pinched pennies over meals in Chablis. Just a day's journey apart, yet the contrast between this bounty and the modest, homemade dishes served only to guests at the château was staggering.
Alfred placed a madeleine on Louis' plate, snapping him from his thoughts.
"Try it, Louis! Before it cools!"
Louis stared at the tiny cake.
"Al, this meal cost four francs," he fretted. "Isn't that excessive? It looks delicious, but knowing the price kills my appetite."
---
**Vendémiaire · Marguerite's Bill**
Alfred waved off his concern with breezy optimism.
"I know what you're thinking, but this is nothing! Four francs is a fortune in the country, but here, it barely covers a carriage ride to the suburbs. I was more worried you'd think I'd forgotten our friendship, serving you a tavern set menu. But I knew better."
"As if I'd think that!" Louis protested. "But from what Marie said, I'm concerned about your finances."
"Don't be! This is easily affordable." Alfred served Louis a slice of lamb. "We'll talk later. For now, enjoy your belated dinner. Had you arrived earlier, I'd have taken you to a proper restaurant—that's where culinary art truly shines!"
Under Alfred's urging, Louis tried the lamb. His eyes widened at the first bite.
Alfred grinned at his reaction. "Well?"
"Incredible! I nearly swallowed my tongue!" Louis savored the tender, herb-infused meat. "Now I see why it's priced so high!"
"Right? When I studied law in the Latin Quarter, I'd save a sou daily for a month just to afford this dish." Alfred pushed the lamb toward Louis and pointed to the carp. "Their version isn't as good as Chez Véry's, but still respectable. Try it."
Though not the most expensive meal Louis had eaten, it ranked among the finest. Each dish—succulent carp, fragrant partridge, richly spiced lamb and goose—was a revelation of Parisian flavors. (And Parisian prices.)
By the time Marie cleared their plates, the clock neared ten. In Mâcon, Louis would already be abed.
Alfred, still energetic, noticed Louis yawning and relented.
"I haven't slept this early in ages, but you look exhausted. I'll join you."
Upstairs, Alfred's bedroom was cozy rather than opulent: a floral carpet, warm yellow wallpaper, and blue Tour linen curtains tied with tasseled ribbons. A four-poster bed with chintz hangings stood beside a rose-filled porcelain vase.
Marie had already unpacked Louis' luggage, placing his pajamas conveniently in Alfred's dressing room. But after feeling the fabric, Alfred insisted Louis wear a brand-new silk robe he'd just received from his tailor.
Louis balked.
"You're taller than me, Al! This'll drown me. And why? I brought my own clothes!"
"Softer fabric means better sleep. Your current set might as well be Saint-Étienne's uniform!"
"It's Indian cotton—not silk, but hardly cheap!"
Their debate was cut short by a knock at the door.
"Is Monsieur Alfred de Grandville in? Mademoiselle Marguerite Laboudin sent this note."
Alfred hurried downstairs, returning shortly to retrieve a locked iron box from his nightstand. When Louis emerged from changing, he saw Alfred counting out gold louis—easily over a hundred francs, a month's expenses in Mâcon.
"Al! What's wrong? What happened?"
"Nothing alarming!" Alfred said airily. "Marguerite sent a bill. Just paying the messenger."
He counted out 120 francs and ten sous, adding two sous as a tip. Upon returning, he held only a slip of paper.
Louis examined it by candlelight. Scrawled in hasty, inelegant script: *Pay the bearer 120 francs and 10 sous. Marguerite.*
"Good God!" Louis gasped. "Alfred, who is this Marguerite? You just handed over a fortune for a scribbled note! At this rate, your annual income wouldn't last a month!"
Alfred ran a hand through his hair, smiling wryly.
"Louis, if spending could win her heart entirely, I'd gladly beggar myself." He sighed, sinking into an armchair. "But Marguerite has no intention of making me her 'monsieur.' She doesn't even let me pay her expenses often. So no need to fear bankruptcy."
"You mean this is just *one evening's* spending? No wonder you called four francs trivial!"
"This is Paris, my dear little Louis." Alfred ticked off on his fingers: "An opera box: 30 francs. Dinner: 50. New gloves and flowers: 20. Candies: 2. It adds up."
"You're throwing your father's money into the Seine, Al."
Alfred laughed, steering Louis—now in white pajamas—toward the bed like a rabbit being tucked into its burrow.
"So you *are* here to audit me. Get under the covers; I'll explain. Remember? I told you—I received two hundred louis today!"