The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 868: Modified: Chapter 8 French Style

At dawn, as the first ray of morning light illuminated the waves on the Seine River, Paris, resting in silence through the entire night, opened its sleepy eyes and leisurely stretched.

One by one, the windows along the streets were pushed open, and occasionally, the sounds of wives calling their lazy husbands and children to get up echoed from the rooms inside the buildings. Amidst the exchanges of men and women getting out of bed, the newly planted sycamore trees on both sides of the streets began sprouting tender green leaves, stretching their limbs in the sunlight, bringing a burst of spring’s vitality to this brick-and-stone city.

A modest and simple carriage slowly made its way out of the eastern outskirts of Paris. Inside, besides a British gentleman, there were two native French friends, who were enthusiastically introducing the scenic views of Paris that were about to unfold before his eyes.

Soon, the carriage arrived at the Seine River, where the shimmering water reflected the growing number of figures on the riverside streets. Although London too had the Thames River, the vibrancy of the Seine and the majestic presence of Notre-Dame on the opposite bank felt completely different.

Perhaps because of the influence of the two countries’ literary works, both rivers have churches, but the sunny Paris always seemed to offer more warmth than the perpetually rainy London.

As the streets grew busier with people, the city finally began to reveal its true character to the guest who had traveled all the way from London.

Vendors, stepping on the dappled shadows of sycamore trees along the cobblestone streets, began their day of hustle. They pushed carts filled with fresh vegetables and fruits, calling out their wares along the alleyways, their voices rising and falling, full of the breath of life.

Arthur glanced through the carriage window at the colorful array of fruits and vegetables in their carts, mainly tomatoes, asparagus, cabbages, broad beans, peas, peppers, green beans, potatoes, carrots, and onions and garlic.

The variety of fruits was equally abundant; a casual glance would reveal seasonal fruits such as strawberries, apricots, blueberries, raspberries, and red currants, brought in from nearby estates. Occasionally, Arthur would also see jars of pickled apples and pears at the vendor stalls.

Among all the fruits and vegetables, the Great Dumas particularly recommended the asparagus.

The finest variety of asparagus was the white asparagus, a favorite of ‘Sun King’ Louis XIV.

Due to its unique sweet flavor and distinct cultivation method, white asparagus always held a rich status, and its price was naturally much higher than that of regular asparagus, leading the French to often call it the ‘edible ivory.’

The French loved asparagus not only for its taste but also because of their near-superstitious belief in its aphrodisiac properties. From a mimetic perspective, they thought asparagus resembled something suggestive, hence it must possess the same properties.

It was well-known that even hundreds of years later, products associated with aphrodisiac qualities usually commanded a high price. For the naturally romantic French people, their demand in this area was even more robust.

In the hormone-laden spring season, asparagus was in such high demand that it was almost impossible to find any in Parisian markets.

In another corner of the market, craftsmen could be seen working diligently.

Sparks flew in the blacksmith shop as blacksmiths swung heavy hammers, forging various ironwares, from small horsetail nails and clothing racks for daily use to sword blanks ordered by combative youth.

In the tailor shop, tailors were busy measuring customers and making bespoke clothes. Hat-makers, holding various colorful feathers and small decorations, meticulously adorned each hat, striving for perfection in every detail.

Along the streets, various small shops lined up in succession, from bakeries to perfume shops, bookstores to antique stores, each playing out its own story.

The bakery exuded an enticing aroma of bread, attracting passersby to stop. Occasionally, one could even see a few cheeky kids sneaking in, snatching a loaf bigger than their heads, and dashing out.

In the perfume shop, various fragrances mingled. Dressed in opulent, aromatic elegance, noble ladies stepping out would either softly exclaim “God” or watch with twinkling eyes as the shopkeeper chased after a thief.

The carriage eventually stopped in front of a café near the Kaidao Sai Mansion, the French Foreign Office.

Through the café’s windows, sunlight shone on the neatly set white tablecloths and gleaming dishes.

Waiters were busily weaving among the tables and chairs, preparing everything for the first guests of the day.

In the morning café, the most common sight was of gentlemen holding newspapers and wearing top hats.

They would order a pot of freshly brewed coffee, its rich aroma lingering in the air, complemented by freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate—the traditional way Parisians started their day.

The sound of newspaper pages turning and low conversations intertwined, creating a unique morning symphony of the café.

As for the ladies, most wore exquisite hats and held lace fans, enjoying breakfast with friends. To maintain their figures, they mostly ordered a light salad or hot soup with bread and cheese.