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A utilitarian carriage drawn by a team of two rolls
into Paris. The occupants seem to be in aheated conversation. "Son you have
embarassed me for the last time. Nor only have you managed to impregnate the
daughter of our groom and footman in the same month, but your attempt to seduce
the teaching sisters at our convent goes beyond all propriety. I have raised you
after your mother died because she was a loyal member of our househod, I even
allow you to use the family name. But your behavior at your uncle's funeral, my
dear younger brother Franc en Pense, was more than evan a devoted Father could
bear. I hope you can find gainful employment here in Paris. Consider a cavalry
unit such as The Queen's Own or one of the Dragoon units. I'll provide you some
support as long as the repots of your behavior justify it, but will ciut you off
entirely if I hear of too many scandals. You've certainly managed to live up to
your name of "Rascale" so far.
A nervous laugh is heard from
the coach. The door swings open and a slender, awkward youth steps and then
trips from the coach, landing in a fresh pile of manuer.
The voice from the coach laughs
a deeper laugh, That should keep you from immediarely visiting a bordello,
perhaps you'll have to find a ewe." The occupant orders the driver to proceed
after tossing down a small trunk.
Rascale tries to wipe the dung
off his boot and leggings, then looks to see if there is any hope of action in
this district. C'est la meme, pourquoi moi?
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