Chapter 1315: Stimulating Consumption
Soon, elegantly dressed waiters wheeled in a small copper cart bearing the appetizers—
A ruddy, minced lamb and barley soup, alongside golden-roasted oysters piled high with garlic.
Walsh solicitously introduced to his cousin and his wife, "These are the most popular dishes at Versailles. Chorba soup from North Africa, with a hint of spice. And the highly favored 'Crown Prince Oysters'—their taste is truly a divine blessing."
The former imperial chef's skill was absolutely flawless. Brode devoured the food, nearly forgetting his basic manners, his knife and fork moving in a blur. His wife next to him kept coughing softly to remind him to be mindful.
For the interlude, they had roasted pigeon and Spanish almond shortcrust cream, followed by crushed nut and chocolate ice cream for dessert.
"They say this is His Royal Highness the Crown Prince's favorite dessert; he eats three servings almost every day."
After his cousin finished eating, Walsh tipped the waiter 5 Francs, an amount that pained Brode. 'Hmm, if he knew the meal itself cost a hefty 180 Francs, he'd probably shout in disbelief.'
Once they were in the carriage, Walsh winked at Brode, pointing to a brightly lit street not far away:
"All right, now let's begin the real entertainment. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."
"Go back?" Walsh shook his head. "They'll have their fun, and we'll be at a different establishment."
Brode's eyes widened instantly, a single thought running through his mind: 'The French really know how to indulge, but if this gets out, Sylvia will definitely raise hell when we get back.'
"Uh... is this really okay?"
"Of course," Walsh replied, as the carriage pulled up to a shop entrance adorned with flashing colored lights.
He gestured for his cousin to disembark, then instructed his wife, "We're going in. You and Sylvia can head to your usual spot."
"Alright, dear. We'll see you later."
Brode nervously stepped into the shop under the colorful gas lamps, guiltily glancing at the two pretty young women who opened the door for him. 'Parisian girls are so much prettier than those in The Hague!' he thought.
Walsh familiarly greeted the owner. "This is my cousin. Please prepare your most expensive service for him."
"Certainly, esteemed Count."
Walsh had previously paid a hefty sum to acquire a Count title for himself, back when the sale of noble titles in France hadn't yet been restricted.
Brode turned to look at the two girls at the entrance again, swallowing hard. 'Well, I'm already here,' he thought. 'I can't disappoint my cousin's good intentions. Sylvia will surely understand.'
Ten minutes later.
Brode lay on a soft reclining chair, humming contentedly.
"How's the rhythm, sir? Would you like me to speed up?"
Brode waved a hand. "Just like this. Keep going, don't stop."
The blonde youth standing behind him smiled and nodded. He scraped a dollop of foam from Brode's chin and applied it to his forehead, then began to vigorously rub his cheeks, lubricated by a facial cleanser mixed with yogurt and essential oils.
After a while, the blonde youth stopped, then began mixing a powder and oil concoction.
Brode let out a long sigh, then heard Walsh, lying beside him, introduce, "This is the 'Oriental Facial' that His Royal Highness the Crown Prince brought to Versailles. How about it, quite good, isn't it?"
'Well, actually, it was just Joseph, who after a particularly busy period, wanted to relax with an Indian-style facial he'd experienced in his previous life. He never expected it to become a nationwide leisure activity.'
Before Brode could reply, the facial technician applied a layer of paste to his face and began the second round of rubbing.
Who knew how long it had been, but Brode, his face scrubbed to a gleaming shine, followed his cousin out of the Oriental Facial shop, feeling as if a layer of skin had been rubbed off.
He glanced at the young women at the entrance again, then asked expectantly, "Where are we going next?"
"Just across the street," Walsh said, pointing knowingly to the opposite side. "This one's even more comfortable."
Inside the shop, Brode was quickly seated, and a man who looked like a barber applied something unknown to his head, then set his hair on fire.
Brode nearly leaped up in fright, but fortunately, the barber was experienced and held him down. "Don't be nervous, sir, there's no danger."
With a swift comb-through, the flames on the Dutchman's head were extinguished, leaving his hair tips slightly singed and curled.
'Indeed, after the Indian-style facial gained popularity, Joseph simply introduced the Indian-style flame haircut as well. He never experienced it himself, though—after trying it once during a trip in his previous life, his hair smelled burnt for days.'
After the haircut came the shampoo.
It wasn't a simple wash, but a thorough process involving special cleansing liquid, repeated massages, and rinsing, lasting a full half-hour.
Brode, his entire head refreshed, was then led by his cousin into the adjacent massage parlor for a luxurious full-body massage.
Meanwhile, on Mrs. Walsh's side, the two ladies emerged from a beauty SPA, chatting with smiling faces, and entered the nail salon next door.
The four of them spent well over 300 Francs on this street in just half a night.
Yes, boosting the economy wasn't just about expanding industrial production; stimulating consumption was equally important.
This street was currently Paris's most famous "Elegant Life" leisure and entertainment strip.
Initially, there were only a few barber shops, Indian-style facial parlors, and similar establishments. Under Joseph's planning and promotion, it had expanded to occupy most of the street, becoming a distinctive leisure area with over 60 various shops.
Even during the war earlier this year, this area contributed 17,000 Francs in taxes to the French treasury each month.
With the war over, and provincial and even foreign tourists flocking to Paris, the turnover was expected to multiply many times over.
Not far north of "Elegant Life Street" lay the Champs-Élysées, which had developed into Paris's shopping paradise.
Joseph had also directed Paris City Hall to plan a "Gourmet Street" on the eastern side.
The next morning, Brode sat in the carriage, still savoring the wonderful experiences of the previous night. These were far more interesting than the monotonous balls and soirées.
Walsh was still enthusiastically discussing the play they were going to see today—they were currently headed to the French Royal Theater.
Brode, finally recalling the most important reason for his trip to Paris, quickly and somewhat awkwardly interjected during a pause in Walsh's speech, "Uh, dear cousin, I actually have a very difficult matter, and you're the only one who can help me now."
He then explained the difficult situation of his family business: "If you could lend me 7,000 Pounds Sterling—oh, 5,000 would also work—it would be a lifesaver. I'm willing to pay you 8% interest."
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