Coutesy of Mulin Rouge by Pieere La Mure:
Marie such a pretty name. They sat down at the marble toped table, and Henri gave his order to a starched, weirdo waiter at rue Muffetard. That’s where Marie was born. Her father was a bottler in one of the rum warehouses, and naturally a drunk. Her mother used to do the street when she was young, but now she has a license as a push cart vendor. Marie older’s sister, Rose, ran away from home when she was sixteen and went to live in the Sabastopol district, Marie jopined her there two years later. As I recall I was stationed there, and that’s how I happen to remember her. “You can’t help noticing her with that mop of yellow hair and those slanting eyes. But she’s order eggs and apple pie."
