~Nine~“Jean-Luc” hailed a coach and jumped onto the lower step before it came to a complete stop.
“To the Café de l'Oiseau in Clagny, my good man!” “he” shouted to the postilion.
Jeanne threw herself onto the padded seat cushion of the carriage and almost giggled out loud. She put her gloved hand to her chest to keep her heart from leaping out. Through the layers of men's clothes, through the glove, she felt it beating with all the naked fear coursing through her; it banged against her ribs like a mallet on a drum. The sweat dripped down her arms and her gauze-wrapped breasts; she inhaled the fetid odor of her own secretions.
What kind of man would I be if I did not smell a little?
Jeanne almost giggled again, amused at the question she posed to herself. As the carriage turned out the
