went into the empty dressing room to change. She was in her bra and pants when Lanchon
walked into the room. He stared at her and his lips began to twitch. Noelle reached for her
dress, but before she could put it on Lanchon swiftly moved toward her and shoved his
hand between her legs. Noelle was filled with revulsion, her skin beginning to crawl. She
tried to pull away, but Lanchon’s grip was strong and he was hurting her. “You are
beautiful,” he whispered. “Beautiful. I will see that you have a good time.”
At that moment Lanchon’s wife called out to him and he reluctantly let go of Noelle
and scurried out of the room.
On the way home Noelle debated whether to tell her father what had happened. He
would probably kill Lanchon. She detested him and could not bear to be near him, and yet
she wanted the job. Besides, her father might be disappointed if she quit. She decided that
for the moment she would say nothing and would find a way to handle it herself. The
following Friday Madame Lanchon received a call that her mother was ill in Vichy.
Lanchon drove his wife to the railroad station and then raced back to the shop. He called
Noelle into his office and told her he was going to take her away for the weekend. Noelle
stared at him, thinking at first that it was some kind of joke.
“We will go to Vienne,” he babbled. “There is one of the great restaurants of the
world there, La Pyramide. It is expensive, but it doesn’t matter, I can be very generous to
those who are good to me. How soon can you be ready?”
She stared at him. “Never” was all she could bring herself to say. “Never.” And she
turned and fled into the front of the shop. Monsieur Lanchon looked after her for a
moment, his face mottled with fury, then snatched the telephone on his desk. An hour later
Noelle’s father walked into the shop. He made straight for Noelle and her face lit up with
relief. He had sensed that something was wrong and had come to rescue her. Lanchon was
standing at the door to his office. Noelle’s father took her arm and hurried her into
Lanchon’s office. He swung around to face her.
“I’m so glad you came, Papa,” Noelle said. “I—”
“Monsieur Lanchon tells me that he made you a splendid offer and you refused him.”
She stared at him, bewildered. “Offer? He asked me to go away with him for the
weekend.”
“And you said no?”
Before Noelle could answer, her father drew his hand back and slapped her hard
across the cheek. She stood there in stunned disbelief, her ears ringing, and through a
filmy haze heard her father saying, “Stupid! stupid! It’s time you started thinking of
someone besides yourself, you selfish little bitch!” And he hit her again.
Thirty minutes later as her father stood at the curb watching them drive off, Noelle
and Monsieur Lanchon left for Vienne.
The hotel room consisted of a large double bed, cheap furniture and a washstand and
basin in one corner. Monsieur Lanchon was not a man to throw away his money. He gave