6
Théâtre Bohème, 2 December 1870
Johann and the other violinist eyed each other. Johann still held his violin and glanced at the sky to see if it would, indeed, rain.
“What is your relationship to Mademoiselle St. Jean?” the other man asked.
Johann allowed his astonishment to show. “Perhaps we should start with our names and move on to more personal questions after. Proper etiquette and all.”
“I am Frederic LeClerc.” He didn’t hold a hand out to shake. “And I am going to marry Mademoiselle. And I know who you are, English swine.”
Johann gestured for LeClerc to follow him so they stood under the canopy of the portico by the side entrance to the theatre. “No sense in getting our instruments wet as we sort this out. How do you know of me?” I’ve made it a point not to be known here.
Le
