The maid invited him. Chéri was quite proud of his achievement and followed inside with a martial stride. He could feel his stomach starting to gurgle. He hadn’t eaten that long ago. Oh, how easy it is to get used to the good life. The scenes of the brothel did not shock or touch him, as in his mind, they were re-enactments of many, many others he had seen before, nor did the Madame intimidate him, inspiring instead a deep sense of awe in a youth that had learnt to recognise such women as his equals rather than rivals.

The Madame greeted him in French and this put him at ease, but the proceeded in English and the thing confused him. Trying to disguise said confusion, Cheri bowed deeply, the way theatre people bow, while sehe made a statement. Chéri could not easily guess what she meant so, in French, she said “Madam, I am looking for a situation,” smiling delightfully, looking splendidly joyful, candid and sly at the same time.

No attempt at making an impression was made yet.