“I’ve worn Angela out,” the man grinned. He saw Noelle. “Who’s this little beauty?”
“This is Yvette, our new girl,” Madame Delys said. And without hesitation added,
“She’s from Antibes, the daughter of a Prince.”
“I’ve never screwed a Princess,” the man exclaimed. “How much?”
“Fifty francs.”
“You must be joking. Thirty.”
“Forty. And believe me, you’ll get your money’s worth.”
“It’s a deal.”
They turned to Noelle. She had vanished.
Noelle walked the streets of Paris, hour after hour. She strolled along the Champs-
Élysées, down one side and up the other, wandering through the Lido Arcade and stopping
at every shop to gaze at the incredible cornucopia of jewelry and dresses and leather goods
and perfumes, and she wondered what Paris was like when there were no shortages. The
wares displayed in the windows were dazzling, and while one part of her felt like a
country bumpkin, another part of her knew that one day these things would belong to her.
She walked through the Bois and down the rue du Faubourg-St.-Honoré and along the
avenue Victor-Hugo, until she began to feel tired and hungry. She had left her purse and
suitcase at Madame Delys’, but she had no intention of going back there. She would send
for her things.
Noelle was neither shocked nor upset by what had happened. It was simply that she
knew the difference between a courtesan and a whore. Whores did not change the course
of history: courtesans did. Meanwhile she was without a cent. She had to find a way to
survive until she could find a job the next day. Dusk was beginning to brush the sky, and
the merchants and hotel doormen were busy putting up blackout curtains against possible
air attacks. To solve her immediate problem, Noelle needed to find someone to buy her a
good hot dinner. She asked directions from a gendarme and then headed for the Crillon
Hotel. Outside, forbidding iron shutters covered the windows, but inside, the lobby was a
masterpiece of subdued elegance, soft and understated. Noelle walked in confidently as if
she belonged there and took a seat in a chair facing the elevator. She had never done this
before, and she was a bit nervous. But she remembered how easy it had been to handle
Auguste Lanchon. Men were really very uncomplicated. There was only one lesson a girl
had to remember: A man was soft when he was hard and hard when he was soft. So it was
only necessary to keep him hard until he gave you what you wanted. Now, looking around
the lobby, Noelle decided that it would be a simple matter to catch the eye of an
unattached male on his way, perhaps, to a lonely dinner.
“Pardon, Mademoiselle.”
Noelle turned her head to look up at a large man in a dark suit. She had never seen a
detective in her life, but there was no doubt whatever in her mind.