[center][i][b][h1][color=#d473d4]Joséphine B. L’Hôte[/color][/h1][/b][/i][/center][hr][i]
[/i][hr] 
As M. Herbachet offered his praises, Joséphine shook her head graciously and offered a bashful-seeming smile. Perhaps her hard work was worth some measure of recognition, but one would scarcely be decent to acknowledge it readily.

[color=#d473d4]« M. Herbachet, you are entirely too kind; »[/color] she responded, [color=#d473d4]« It is but a pursuit of joy! »[/color]

And no sooner had Joséphine taken her seat than another fellow rose to join the string of introductions. And an Englishman no less! It certainly begged the question: How far had the heirs to these old estates scattered as to see some of their closest heirs in the New World and perfidious Albion? Joséphine allowed herself a small exhalation of amusement at the thought, before returning her attention to the matter at hand. It felt a bit mean, really, but a part of her felt some measure of worry that another English-speaker here would see her mistakenly lumped in with the Anglophones. Not that there was any great fault with being a native speaker of English, but it often came tied with some implication of foreignness that bore little resemblance to her own reality. 

The exposition! A wistful smile settled onto Joséphine’s face as she recalled the Panorama du Tour du Monde in some detail. It had been just the perfect time to visit shortly after the summer’s head had died down. Certainly some of her peers had insisted on going sooner, but by the time Joséphine herself had made her way to Paris to visit, the exhibits were all actually complete, the little difficulties of performances had been all but worked out, and the biggest influx of visitors had already seen all they’d desired to see. Not many of her friends had actually waited to go with her when she’d made plans to go, but the few that did had largely agreed that it was well worth the wait. Joséphine could scarcely recall a more perfectly-appointed, perfectly-executed trip than that. But of course, all the impatient and disorderly sorts had weeded themselves out by that time anyway…

…

How the time had flown! Before Joséphine knew it, the day had been spent, and it was time to retire for the day, being that there was an absence of other plans. L’Hôtel Saint-Pierre was a lovely accommodation, no doubt, but Joséphine found herself scarcely inclined to make a great fuss about the entire matter. Rather, after a quiet, brief supper, she found the good sense to keep up with her routine of reading, and delved right into her second rereading of her professor’s book, [i]Précis de Grammaire Historique de la Langue Française[/i]...

…

Joséphine awoke with a start. Having dozed off in her chair while reading, as she had found herself apt to do on many other occasions, it was at first no surprise to awaken to a still-lit room, while fully dressed. No, the surprise was a smell. A ghastly, vile smell. As Joséphine fumbled with her book, slowly creeping into consciousness, she held a hand to her mouth, her half-awake brain fumbling for some sort of explanation for the odd experience.

[color=#d473d4][i]But things were going so well! It only figures that something would have died in the walls tonight…[/i][/color] she grimaced, recalling many such similar instances where the depths of the summer heat had transformed some unsuspecting vermin into a most abominable attack on the senses that could only be remedied with a thorough scouring of the spaces between the habitable areas to find the offending corpse.

Her bleary eyes drifted idly past the lovely vase and its flower arrangement as she contemplated the inconvenient turn of the evening. With her yet-unopened luggage in tow, and an eye on the time, Joséphine made her way to the lobby to inform the good people working the hotel of their unfortunate lot, and to request another room. Of course, it was only her luck that there was no such opportunity to find a new room, and so she made herself comfortable in the lobby for a spell to await daytime. Hopefully, the others would not have had such an unfortunate night! If nothing else, she’d get ahead on her reading, and could perhaps catch up on the lost sleep come the train ride back to Lyon.

…

That had been the plan, anyway. Joséphine simply couldn’t find herself able to return to her reading in such a public space, even with as quiet as the hour had left it. At a certain point, as the sun made its presence known past the windows, it became quite apparent that rereading every line thrice and then jumping back a page was simply untenable if she truly desired to actually read the book. A certain thought kept coming back, made entirely more vivid at the striking sensation of the cool morning air. This was not the sort of place—the sort of environment—where one might expect that old rot to take root so readily. In New Orleans, along the Gulf Coast, and so forth—in these places, certainly, it was a fact of life, something to be navigated around, most of all during the summer. But in the springtime, in a place doused in the cool, even weather of the Atlantic? It really felt more unexpected the more Joséphine mulled over her own explanation.

Ah, this entire matter was making an affair of itself. There was no need to ruminate on it. Joséphine left a note with her room key, and resolved to make her way to M. Herbachet’s office.

Hopefully, whatever it was Aunt Julie had been speaking of all those years ago bore little in common with the matters at hand today. Then again, wasn’t it strange that she’d been called here instead of her father? Perhaps M. Herbachet hadn’t wanted to trouble someone an ocean away with such things as this when his very own daughter was so much closer. But really, he could have sent a telegram or something; it wasn’t as if it were an exorbitant expense. And father would have sent his own message to her on the subject. Evidently, none of that had happened…

And things were getting stranger still. Joséphine gripped her luggage tightly as she came to find the Sœur raising quite a fuss. At the Sœur’s insistence, Joséphine only offered a restrained comment of, [color=#d473d4]« But it is rather early all the same. »[/color]

Of course, Joséphine found it increasingly difficult to offer some account for the situation at hand as the man attending to the notary’s former office presented the facts as they were. Joséphine clasped the bridge of her nose at the implication that M. Herbachet had scammed them. She slipped the ring from her finger and quietly slipped it into her leather handbag. When she returned to Lyon, she’d need to have the gem and the metal appraised, for fear it was but a trinket.

[color=#d473d4]« Yes, I suppose there’s nothing else to be done, »[/color] Joséphine agreed, shifting her carpet-bag up her right arm in anticipation of the rush ahead of them, [color=#d473d4]« If any of you gentlemen are any more suited to running, I wouldn’t imagine it unwise that you might run ahead of those of us less athletically inclined… »[/color]

…

Joséphine let out a sudden, pained wheeze as the effects of the mysterious barrier overcame her. One hand pressed tightly to her chest as she took in low, shallow breaths, Joséphine slowly righted herself and began to carefully dust off where her knees had pressed her dress into the ground. Looking at how scruffed-up the palms of her kid-gloves were, Joséphine quietly slid one of them off and reached into her carpet-bag, in hopes that she’d had the good sense to pack the spare near the top of her clothes. As she did so, she set her eyes on the babbling Sœur and sighed.

[color=#d473d4]« Sœur… Bisson, was it? »[/color] she began, closing the gap between the two of them even while still fumbling for her new gloves, [color=#d473d4]« Seeing as this…rather…unnerving occurrence has seen to it that we’ve thoroughly missed any chance of catching M. Herbachet, might I suggest we find some small café to have a bit to eat, settle ourselves, and determine a course of action regarding contacting and perhaps engaging in any necessary litigation around this troublesome affair? »[/color]

Having found her fresh gloves, Joséphine slipped one on without doing-up the buttons, removed her other sullied glove inside the bag, and did the same with the other, turning both old gloves inside out so as to avoid getting dirt on what in her bag was still clean. Joséphine did up the last button on one of the gloves to secure it well enough, and offered a hand to Sœur Bisson as she concluded her statement.

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