□□ 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.