down to the Canebière, the main street that led from the old harbor of the city to the richer
districts. He walked up and down the street exploring all the dress salons, a clumsy
peasant in a world of silk and lace, but he neither knew nor cared that he was out of place.
He had but one objective and he found it when he reached the Bon Marché. It was the
finest dress shop in Marseille, but that was not why he chose it. He chose it because it was
owned by Monsieur Auguste Lanchon. Lanchon was in his fifties, an ugly bald-headed
man with small stumpy legs and a greedy, twitching mouth. His wife, a tiny woman with
the profile of a finely honed hatchet, worked in the fitting room, loudly supervising the
tailors. Jacques Page took one look at Monsieur Lanchon and his wife and knew that he
had found the solution to his problem.
Lanchon watched with distaste as the shabbily dressed stranger entered the door of
his shop. Lanchon said rudely, “Yes? What can I do for you?”
Jacques Page winked, poked a thick finger in Lanchon’s chest and smirked, “It is
what I can do for you, Monsieur. I am going to let my daughter work for you.”
Auguste Lanchon stared at the lout standing before him, an expression of incredulity
on his face.
“You are going to let—”
“She will be here tomorrow, nine o’clock.”
“I do not—”
Jacques Page had left. A few minutes later, Auguste Lanchon had completely
dismissed the incident from his mind. At nine o’clock the next morning, Lanchon looked
up and saw Jacques Page entering the shop. He was about to tell his manager to throw the
man out, when behind him he saw Noelle. They were walking toward him, the father and
his unbelievably beautiful daughter, and the old man was grinning, “Here she is, ready to
go to work.”
Auguste Lanchon stared at the girl and licked his lips.
“Good morning, Monsieur,” Noelle smiled. “My father told me that you had a job for
me.”
Auguste Lanchon nodded his head, unable to trust his voice.
“Yes, I—I think we could arrange something,” he managed to stammer. He studied
her face and figure and could not believe what he saw. He could already imagine what that
naked young body would feel like under him.
Jacques Page was saying, “Well, I will leave you two to get acquainted,” and he gave
Lanchon a hearty whack on the shoulder and a wink that had a dozen different
significances, none of them leaving any doubt in Lanchon’s mind about his intentions.
For the first few weeks Noelle felt that she had been transported to another world.
The women who came to the shop were dressed in beautiful clothes and had lovely
manners, and the men who accompanied them were a far cry from the crude, boisterous
fishermen with whom she had grown up. It seemed to Noelle that for the first time in her