Game of Patience
“On the north side of the street, the buildings of the former Capucin convent, national property since 1790, had become the Mint—or rather the printing works that had spewed out millions of nearly worthless assignats. A row of comfortable bourgeois apartment houses stretched along the opposite side.
He paused before number eight as a maidservant threw open a pair of shutters at a first-floor window. “ ’Morning, citizen,” she said, as he tipped his hat to her, and heaved a pail of dirty water... into the street. “Watch your boots, there.”
“I’m already wet.”
She grinned, with a quick grimace at the unrelenting drizzle, and muttered something about nasty December weather. Before she could vanish inside the house again, he inquired if she might have known one Ferré, a former tenant of the house.
She shook her head, uninterested. “No, I was engaged here eight months ago. I don’t know any Ferré.”MoreLess
He paused before number eight as a maidservant threw open a pair of shutters at a first-floor window. “ ’Morning, citizen,” she said, as he tipped his hat to her, and heaved a pail of dirty water... into the street. “Watch your boots, there.”
“I’m already wet.”
She grinned, with a quick grimace at the unrelenting drizzle, and muttered something about nasty December weather. Before she could vanish inside the house again, he inquired if she might have known one Ferré, a former tenant of the house.
She shook her head, uninterested. “No, I was engaged here eight months ago. I don’t know any Ferré.”MoreLess
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