Love at Dawn

1.Alouette's First Encounter With The Beautiful Youth Painter

In the summer of 1783, the city of Rouen, Kingdom of France, nine-year-old Edith led her aunt's hand, curious eyes taking in a shabby low-rise building before them.

Edith was an orphan. At the age of seven, both her parents running a small farm in the countryside died of cholera within a week.

Aunt Adele, the widow of a cavalry lieutenant in Rouen, became the guardian of this child. She supported Edith and her own son and daughter with a small pension.

This small and agile girl, with a smattering of freckles beneath her big eyes and chestnut hair always tied into two thick braids swaying behind, was naturally optimistic and adaptable. Losing her original home did not make her sad for long.

What the little girl found unbearable was loneliness. Her cousins were much older and grew up in the city, ignorant of the various tricks played by rural children. Neither had she same-aged companions nearby to play together with.

As an indulged only child from an affluent rural family, her childhood had already instilled in her a pampered disposition. This did not develop into a princess temper; rather, she was too free-spirited, close to nature and wilderness.

The adults were busy with farm work and hardly restricted their daughter. Little Edith robbed bird's nests, waded in streams, and rolled around in the mud. Her mother doted on this child, never willing to scold her.

For a child like her, the life of a petty bourgeoisie family in Rouen was stifling. Fortunately, her aunt didn't much control the girl's wild behavior. She just muttered a few words, asking her to follow the demure example of her 14-year-old cousin, Margot. It was said that a lady of wealth passing by several years ago had once praised Margot's refined elegance and ladylike demeanor.

Aunt Adele, a short, plump middle-aged woman, didn't particularly care for any of her kids, always complaining that Edith worsened her nervous condition. But in truth, she cherished each of the children deeply in her heart.

These days,there was a rumour going around that a beautiful young painter had newly arrived in town. He appeared to be only fifteen or sixteen years old, was said to be very talented, mysterious and flirtatious looking. Some believed he was a noble childe who had escaped from his home. Others were convinced that he was the young prince of Denmark. In short, the more the words got around, the more bizarre they became.

And now Edith had come with her aunt to see what was new.

The little girl jumped briskly up the stairwell first.

"This is the bastion of the genius beautiful youth painter?" Edith looked with amusement and incredulity over the drab wooden door of the inn's lowest-rated tiny room.

The door was unlatched. It's easy to imagine that the house was too empty for a burglar to bother with.

Aunt Adele, following her with small, panting steps, knocked on the door and called inside, "Monsieur le painter? Monsieur le painter?"

There was a sound of paper being gathered inside; only after a moment did they hear approaching footsteps, soon stopping behind the door.

The door was opened by a tall man who looked somewhere between a juvenile and an adult.
　　
The lustrous blonde curls fell over his shoulders, his features refined enough to be those of Narcissus in Greek mythology, while the angular face added a lot of masculinity. The lips were quite rosy, yet thin and always pressed, implying the virtue of prudence and self-control of their owner. His brow was always slightly furrowed beneath the marble forehead, creating a contemplative look even during conversation. It was difficult to tell whether these characteristics detract from or contribute to his allure.