A/N: This is my very first novel. Please be indulgent! It will be a short story of a maximum of five or six chapters, the goal being to just test my level of writing. Natives may notice it, but I still want to make it clear. English is not my original language, I am more comfortable in French. So if there are any syntax errors, please excuse me and report me so I can correct it. Good chatter and good reading. Don't forget to send me your impressions in comments. Tchiao!

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In the dark and narrow streets of the Halles district echoed the cries of merchants trying to attract passers-by to their stalls. Sometimes the smell of urine was masked by the aromas of their exotic wares, herbs and spices from the other side of the Earth.

Tobacco, chocolate, coffee... It was also the first time that our Evans smelled the smell of these luxury products, of which only the names had reached the provinces.

The capital, as suffocating and inhospitable as it had been, nevertheless reserved a large number of privileges. From all over the world, merchants traveled up the Seine in barges filled with goods that one could only dream of in the native Périgord of this young craftsman, convinced in the heart of Paris. The trip had been long, ten days of walking and a heavy bag full of goods had exhausted the young man.

He found an inn on the banks of the river, right next to the bridge called "Nine", and decided to stop there, the sun reaching the end of its course.

Inside, the tavern didn't look like much. A few poorly made tapestries hung from the exposed beams on the wall, and the beeswax candles in the chandeliers struggled to light the entrance.

Behind the counter, one could see the one who seemed to be the innkeeper chatting with a rather slender man whose age could be in his forties. Oral sound with a slight German accent. The latter was trying to negotiate a discount for his room, but the innkeeper did not hear him that way.

On the other side of the room, a young woman was passing the broom. Evans couldn't help staring at her for a moment, finding her quite to his liking and drifting off into lustful reveries. But her dreams are short-lived, interrupted by the innkeeper's voice: "Oh!" cried the latter, angrily. "Stop staring at my daughter!

- I... stammered Evans, I was not doing anything wrong.

- Hmm? Where are you from to have such an accent?

- From Sarlat, in Périgord.

- What is a boor from Périgord doing in Paris?

- Please... please measure your words sir. I am a customer first.

- A client who ogles people's daughters, added the innkeeper shrewdly.

Evans tried to fight back again, but the innkeeper beat him to it.

- If not, what brings you?

- I'm an apprentice tailor, my master...

- I'm not asking you to tell me about your life. How long do you plan to stay? Be warned, I do not accept fabric as payment.

A little frustrated with the way he was being treated by the manager, Evans thought for a moment about going to find another tavern, but he decided against it. Being a foreigner in the city, it will take him precious time to look for another establishment, and even he wanted to deny it to himself, the main reason for his renunciation was in connection with the daughter of this fat grump. So it was in that spirit that Evans calmly responded to the innkeeper.

- Fifteen. Do you have a free room for this duration?

- I have some left, if you have enough to pay. Fifteen nights will cost you seventeen pounds and ten sous.

- Seventeen pounds?! This is theft!

- These are the prices, you will not find cheaper elsewhere. But feel free to go and check for yourself.

- Fine, sighed Evans, it's okay."

He untied the purse attached to his belt, and took out all his coins, before depositing them on the counter. The innkeeper then began to count, slipping the change under his fingers.

"The count is not good, young man. There are only fourteen pounds, three pennies and last eleven.

-I-I'll give you the rest when I can sell my goods.

- I don't do credit. If you don't have enough to pay, you won't get the room.

- I'll have them by tomorrow!

Without inquiring about Evans's words, the innkeeper pushed the coins back at him, for him to take his money and leave.

-I can pay you my room for the night, and take another one tomorrow when I have enough to pay the rest, pleaded Evans again.

- A deadbeat is bad for my business. If you can't afford fifteen nights, go somewhere else."

Evans couldn't believe his ears. He had never been so badly received in an inn, and he had never seen such high prices. the innkeeper was probably making him pay for staring at his daughter.

"I hope you marry her too, grumpy old man," he whispered to himself.

But as Evans was about to collect his coins, he noticed someone waiting on the doorstep, whom the innkeeper invited to enter.

He was a fine-featured young individual, wearing loose clothing and a three-cornered hat. He approached the counter and threw a large purse in front of the innkeeper.

"A room for me tonight, he said thinly, and take what the young man is missing.

"I-I can't take it," Evans said abruptly, surprised.

- You can, replied the man with the tricorn, I have already decided to help you. It would be improper to refuse.

- Well... Uh, in that case, thank you. Sir?

- Charles DeBerry, delighted.

- Evans Duez, he introduced himself, before turning to the innkeeper. Are you satisfied now?

- Yes, grumbled the latter. You can take the second bedroom upstairs. As for Mr. DeBerry, let me escort you to my best room, downstairs.

- You are very kind, nodded Charles.

- You, added the innkeeper, turning to Evans, I advise you not to approach my daughter.

A warning that Evans did not deign to listen to.

He thanked his benefactor again, and headed upstairs to his room. He finally put his heavy bag of goods there, and sat down on the bed for a moment. He might be exhausted, but he thought about the innkeeper's daughter, and his behavior. 'The way he treated him, I don't see why I should please him.' Evans decided to leave his room to talk to the young woman while the innkeeper was busy with Monsieur Deberry.

The young craftsman approached her as she was putting wood back into the fireplace.

"Mademoiselle," he told her in a honeyed voice.

- Sir, she said without turning to him, did you need something?

- No, young lady. It just becomes me to start chatting with you. My name is Evans, Evans Duez. And you?

- Clothilda. Please excuse me, I have a lot to do."

The young woman, whom Evans now knows is called Clothilde, straightened up and walked away to dust off the counter.

Well knowing full well that he is being rejected, Evans refused to let himself be taken down, and followed Clothilde. He put his right hand on his left shoulder, but the latter jerked back hastily.

"Please don't touch me!

- Excuse me, I... I didn't mean...

- Leave me alone, please.

- I just think you're so beautiful. There's no woman like you where I'm from.

"I'm sure of it," replied Clothilde curtly, stepping back.

Hearing the innkeeper return, Evans decided, though reluctantly, that it was best to stop. He left young Clothilde alone, and went back up the stairs.

As he was leaving, he saw Monsieur Deberry speaking to Clothilde, without the innkeeper saying a word, and without her pushing him away. 'Gold has many advantages...' he thought, returning to the next room.

Evans then heard barking in the next room. The guest next door must have had at least three dogs in his room, howling at the full moon. Evans was sure the innkeeper had put him in that room on purpose. 'The ignoramus!'

Despite the noise, the fatigue of the trip finally got the better of him, and he ended up falling into a deep sleep.