Madrigal
“It was not a room in which to officially greet people. It was very private and tucked away in a far corner of the Cloister of the Pilgrims’ Well, le Cloitre du puit des pèlerins, which dated from the fourteenth century and was on the rue Sainte-Catherine within a few minutes’ walk of the Palais.
‘You find me at home, Inspectors, and busy at my researches,’ he said, taken aback at the intrusion but valiantly trying to hide the discomfort. ‘What can I do for you? A glass of anisette, some coffee ...…? It’s not often detectives from Paris visit the Bishop of Avignon and the Vaucluse unannounced.’ The cook, who had, under the threat of Sûreté duress, escorted them from a side entrance, and who had been with the house for centuries, was going to get a tongue-lashing later. ‘The anisette, merci,’ said St-Cyr.
Ah not that Quatsch again, swore Kohler silently as he grimaced at the thought of liquorice’s cloying taste. ‘Some coffee?’ he asked and swallowed.
‘Both, then.MoreLess
‘You find me at home, Inspectors, and busy at my researches,’ he said, taken aback at the intrusion but valiantly trying to hide the discomfort. ‘What can I do for you? A glass of anisette, some coffee ...…? It’s not often detectives from Paris visit the Bishop of Avignon and the Vaucluse unannounced.’ The cook, who had, under the threat of Sûreté duress, escorted them from a side entrance, and who had been with the house for centuries, was going to get a tongue-lashing later. ‘The anisette, merci,’ said St-Cyr.
Ah not that Quatsch again, swore Kohler silently as he grimaced at the thought of liquorice’s cloying taste. ‘Some coffee?’ he asked and swallowed.
‘Both, then.MoreLess
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