1. La Vie enRose
The nightwas dizzy withlightsandthe boisterous sound of drunk menasthey made theirwayto le bar.
The streetswere littered withpeople dancingtothe musicof the night, womeninlow-cutdressesof
tatteredsilkbeckoningtothe lone manto come warm theirbedforthe night. All fora price.The air
thrummed withlaughterandsonganddance, hypnotisingthe innocentbystandertopartake inits
festivities.
All of these were runningthroughAnaïs'mindasshe stumbled herwaythrough the crowds, chokingas
wispsof smoke assailed hernose. She mumbled “Excusez-moi”asshe pushed againstlaughingmenand
women. She shouldn'tbe here, she knewthat, butwhere else wasshe supposed togo?There wasnothing
back home forher, maybe excepta masterwhodidnot know the meaningof boundaries. Butthere was
Joséphine, the kindhousekeeperwhohelpedherescape. Atthe thoughtof warmsmilesandcomforting
words, Anaïsalmostturnedaround and headed backtowards MonsieurGerard's chateau, butstopped
immediately. No, she couldn'tgoback;if she did, Joséphine'spartinherescape would surely be uncovered,
and where wouldthatleave them?No, itwould be bestif Anaiscontinued toploughherway throughthe
busystreetsof Paris.
The sensual soundof the pianocouldbe heard above the laughterandcries, boilingthe blooduntil it
became hotwiththe heat of bodies pressed againsteachother. Anaïscringedandwrapped the thincoat
overher nightgown tighteraroundheras she saw a couple pressed againstthe doorframe of abrothel.
Such indecency, she thoughtas the man groped the prostitute's behind, bringinghermouthclosertohis.
Anaïs quickly turnedaroundandas she didso, bumped intoa hulkingfigure.
"Pardon me!I didnot see you,"she squeaked asshe rightedherself. Atthe sound of alight-hearted
chuckle,Anaïslooked upandsaw a tall man withdarkbrown hairand dark eyesthattwinkled inthe light.
He lookedaround thirty, butthere were signsof premature ageinginhishair.
"It isquite alright, mademoiselle. Itisimpossible tonotbumpintosomeone whenthe streetsare sobusy,"
he saidin a quiet, butfirmvoice.
Anaïs nodded meekly, andstartedtomake heraway aroundthe man, whenhe grabbedherarm, stopping
her. "Are you headingsomewhere? Maybe Ican escortyou; the streetsare perilous atthistime."
"You don'thave to do that, Monsieur. Iam quite alrightmakingmyway,"Anaïsreplied, smilingfaintly to
put the man at ease. Butthe man didn'tloosen hishold.Hisfingerssqueezed tightly andAnaïswinced.
There would definitely be bruises onherarm, somethingshe wasall toofamiliarwith.
"I have no doubtof that. But itwould putmy heartat restif I escorted a beautiful womansuchasyourself
to safety."The man'sfingers loosened, butstartedtomake theirwayupwards, towards Anaïs'face. Her
blue eyeswidened ashisfingerstouchedhercheeks, the same wayhermasterusedtotouchthem. Soft,
like feathers, butunderneath... Anaïsshivered atthe thought.
"You are cold. We must take yousomewhere whereitiswarm,"the man saidwitha smile thatdidnothide
hismore licentious intent.
Anaïs tooka stepback, shakingherhead. "No, I am notcold. Now, if you wouldexcuse me, Monsieur, I
mustgo."
She turned, butbefore she couldtake a step, roughhandsgrabbedherwaistand pulledhertowardsa
muscled chest. Anaïsstruggledagainstthe marble statue, butherarmswere pinioned againstherchest,
stoppinghermovements. Hemust'vedonethis a lot of times, Anaïs thoughtruefully. Despitethe
restrictions imposed uponher, Anaïscontinued tostruggle, whichonly reignitedwhen she felthandssliding

2. downwards, caressingherlegs. She opened hermouthtoscream, butshe only managedto gurgle inher
throat as she feltdry and leathery lipssuckleonherlips.
"Stopyour strugglingorI will beatyouuntil youare bleedingonthe ground,"the manwhispered intoher
ear.
Anaïs stopped movingandclosed hereyesasthe mangruntedinsatisfaction andcontinued fondlingher.
Please God, havemercy on me. Save mefromthis man.
"Jean!How good to see you!"
Anaïs' eyes opened asshe staredat the womaninfrontof her. She looked tobe several yearsolderthan
Anaïs, in hermid-twenties. She wasdressed inwhitesilkthatheavily contrastedherravenhairand
obsidian eyes. The womanmerely glancedatAnaïs, thenturnedhergaze to the man.
"AmI interruptingsomething?"the womaninwhite askedcongenially, tiltingherheadtothe side.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, youare," the man – Jean– replied,tighteninghisholdonAnaïs.
The womanlaughed, hervoice deepandsultry.”Yes, how rude of me. But I was justvisitingMarguerite,
and she saidhow she has missedyou, Jean. Youwere alwaysafavourite of hers.”
“I’ve beenvery busy, Louise,”Jeanreplied firmly,butloosened hisarmsaround Anaïs at the soundof the
mysterious Marguerite. The woman’s smiledwidened.
“I can see that. But Marguerite isan absolute terrorwhenshe doesn’thave herway. Whatdon’tyoucalm
herdown?Afterall, she is more experienced thanthispetitefleur.”Aftera few minutes, minutes that
seemed todragon for Anaïs, Jeanstepped back. Anaïsclutchedhercoat tighter, givingthe illusion of a
barrier.
“You’re right. Thisgamineis notworth mytime. Au revoir, Louise. Ihope tosee yousoon.”
“Au revoir, Jean. AndI will make sure youhave a frontrow seatfor the show.”
Jeannodded, andwithoutaglance at Anaïs, mergedintothe energeticcrowd. Anaïsbreathed asighof
relief andlooked atthe angel before her. The womanstaredpastAnaïs, as if to assure herself –or Anaïs –
that Jeanwouldn’tmake areappearance. Soon, she toobreathed asighof relief andturnedhergaze to
Anaïs, where itsoonbeganscrutinisingher.
“You mustbe new to Parisif youdo not know how to control menlike JeanDupont,”the womanstated.
Anaïs nodded inanswer.
“Andthe reason why youleftispersonal, non?”
Again, Anaïsnodded.
The womanslightlysmiled, asif amusedbythe girl’stimidness. “Doyounotspeak?I take ityou do, for I
heardyou try to persuade MonsieurDuponttoletyougo. Eitheryoudo, or youare too traumatised from
youexperiencethatyouhave swallowed yourtongue.”
Anaïs chuckled breathlessly andnodded, before saying, “Idospeak, Mademoiselle. AndIthank youfor
comingto my rescue. Asyousaidbefore, I have yetto learnthe waysof citylife.”

3. “Do you nothave a place to stay?Someone youknow wholives inParis?”
“I’m afraidI donot, Mademoiselle.”
The two women lookedateachother, darkeyesmeetingcerulean. Anaïsheldherbreath, staringatthe
strange womaninfront of her.It seemed strange, beinglooked atasif througha magnifyingglass,
somethingAnaïswasusedto– fromher daysunderneath the service of MonsieurGerard– butthistime,
Anaïs wasn’tmetwithcalculationorlustful malevolence, butwithakindness thatshe hadn’texperienced
before. Atthatmoment, Anaïsfeltshe hadmeta kindred spirit.
All toosoon, the womanin white turnedandstartedwalkingaway. Anaïsthoughtthe worstuntil she heard
the husky voice exclaim, “Don’tjuststandthere, ma petitefleur!You neednew clothes, foodanda warm
bed, I think. AndIknow justthe place.”
Anaïs dutifully followed afterthe woman, careful tokeepherinherline of sight. Bothwomenwalked
briskly, bypassingcrowds of merry people untilthey reached the Montmartre districtof the dix-huitième
arrondissment. Anaïsgaspedatthe sight. Before them, stoodamagnificentwindmilllitwithdazzlinglights.
Men and women flocked tothe open doors, where inside,the sounds of dancingandlaughingcouldbe
heard.
“What is thisplace?”Anaïsaskedina whisper, blueeyeswide inwonder.
“This,”the womanreplied, extendingahandtowards the windmill, “isthe home of the can-candance, the
very essence of Parisianlife!”She placedahandonAnaïs’ shoulderandsmiledwidely, white teethflashing
inthe brightlight. “Thisismyhome, and itcan be yours too, if youso wish.”
Anaïs looked atthe womanbeside her. “Truly, Mademoiselle?Youare not goingto turnme away?”
The womanlaughed. “Please, myname isLouise, LouiseWeber. Andno, Ithink Iwill notturnyou away, ma
chérie. Parisis a beautiful city, butithasmany dangers.Now, whatdo youthink?Wouldyoulike thistobe
your home?But, I mustwarn you, youwill expecttowork, tolearnthe art of dance. Do you think youare
willingtoleave whateverwasyouroldlife andbecome unedanseureuse?”
Anaïs looked backat the windmill, whichseemedtobeckonhertoenteritshalls. WithoutlookingatLouise,
she said. “Yes, I am ready.”
“Then, ma petite fleur, welcome tothe Moulin Rouge!”