In the afternoon of a spring day, the sun hung high overhead, the slightly sultry weather always made people drowsy, the gentle hum of the carriage and the shimring reflections along the banks of the Seine River intertwined to form the unique afternoon lody of Paris.
At the edge of Fry Square in Paris, there was a small hotel that could be seen everywhere, although its facade was unassuming, it exuded a warm and antique aura, the stone exterior walls were covered with ivy, the wooden sign gently swayed in the breeze, on which the na of the hotel was elegantly handwritten - "Le Petit Château", aning "Little Castle."
The hired carriage slowly stopped in front of the hotel, and two guests, a man and a woman, got down from the carriage. The gentleman wore a finely tailored deep black tailcoat, matched with trousers of the sa color, the trouser legs were straight, the lines smooth. Inside the coat was a crisp white shirt with a delicate bow tie at the collar, under the lapel of the coat, a ticulously crafted pocket watch chain dangled lightly, and he wore a pair of polished leather shoes, with a simple top-hat on his head.
Though no one asked this gentleman’s profession, from his attire, one could surmise he was most likely a successful lawyer or perhaps a stockbroker working in the securities exchange.
As for the lady, she wore a soft and glossy pale pink silk gown, with a thin belt gently cinching her waist, her ears adorned with pearl earrings, and the wide-brimd hat on her head was decorated with feathers and delicate gold hat accessories. From her clothing choice, it was evident that the lady had a good grasp of the current fashion trends in Paris.
From afar, they seed to be a perfect French couple, a talented man and a beautiful woman. But upon closer inspection, this duo aroused so suspicion in others.
Because the gentleman looked no more than in his early twenties, while his female companion appeared to be at least forty years old.
Though this lady still possessed the charm of her youth, even the most exquisite makeup could not disguise the marks ti had left on her; her hands were not as tight and smooth as a young girl’s, and her once creamy cheeks were no longer like porcelain.
Yet, this peculiar combination didn’t bother the hotel owner and the staff.
It was well known that hotels in Paris weren’t always ant for tourists; even local gentlen and ladies often had reasons inconvenient for staying at ho.
Moreover, the hotel nearly every day received a pair or so of guests like this, so liked them young, so liked them older, everyone had their own preference, nothing to be blad. And to so obscure young people, older ladies had a myriad of benefits.
As to what kind of benefits, people like Talleyrand, Disraeli, and Thiers had long proven through their rise to fa.
But truth be told, if today’s couple was rely like the lovers seen everywhere on the streets of Paris, it wouldn’t warrant such elaborate description.
What deserved the grand introduction was the nas Arthur Hastings and Francois Vidocq.
Every ti Arthur saw Vidocq’s disguise, he couldn’t help but offer praises.
After all, this wasn’t the 21st century, but the 19th, and given the limited conditions, Vidocq’s female attire had reached such a level, beyond just simply dressing as a woman, he managed quite a degree of charm. Though age limited him, Vidocq could no longer disguise as a young girl, but in portraying a woman with lingering charm, no one in either London or Paris was more professional than him.
One must say that such success was due not only to Vidocq’s personal effort but also partly to his innate talent.
As for Arthur’s complints, Vidocq accepted them without reservation.
This over 50-year-old Parisian Sleuth took pride in life from his glorious years in the Security Departnt, to having once chard countless maidens with his face and wit.
Perhaps it was a trait inherent in French people; they loved to boast of being born romantics, Great Dumas thought so, and Vidocq was no different.
Though the truth of it is unclear, according to Vidocq himself, he first tasted romance at the age of 13.
Back then, he had run away from ho, intending to seek fortune in Arica, he ended up befriending a conman at the port, who promised him company with two beautiful young girls. The inexperienced Vidocq had never seen such a scene, at night, like Eld descending from the mountain, he plunged into the arms of one of the girls.
Upon waking the next morning, he found himself with nothing but his pants, his Arican expedition funds missing, and the dock outside was thronged with the forest-like masts, Vidocq lay half-naked on the pier basking in the morning sun. The harsh sunlight finally made him sworn to himself—being driven by lust would lead to no good.
However, this didn’t an he developed any prejudice against ladies and misses, being deceived was one thing, Vidocq continued his pursuits, only now he kept a sharper eye.
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