Arturo Mazarini set down his paint brush and stood back to survey his work. He was not happy with the piece. He knew he was his own worst critic, especially when he was under pressure, and decided to stop then and wait until inspiratio took hold of him again. Or until the pressure was on and he would have no choice but to finish. He slumped down in a chair in the corner of his studio and poured himself a glass of wine from a nearby bottle. What he needed was inspiration and, most importantly, a pick-me-up. He strummed his finger against his leg, then it occured to him... a party! A grand swinging bash with lots of people and dancing and wine! He hadn't had one of his own since he had started his commission and was very happy to start one up right away.
Mazzarini put on his coat and locked up his studio, after which, with the aid to of the landlady's son, he set about town making preparation for a grand celebration in a style that was uniquely Mazarini for weeks later. The last stop was the shop of Jean-Paul Planchette, after all he needed to look his best. He entered the building and began chatting with the Clerk, and request to see M. Planchette immediately to be fitted.
At the bidding of the clerk, Arturo Mazarini ascended the staircase and entered the work room of M. Jean-Paul Planchette. Planchette was dwarfed by the large artist who demanded in a booming voice, "I am planning a party the likes of which this little town has never seen and I'm told that you one of the finest tailors in France, well then fit me up my good man!"
"Very good, Mazarini! I had almost fear that your paintings had swallowed you up. Is there anything in particular you had in mind?" Planchette had already broken out with his tape measure. A young man appeared shortly there after, in the clothes of a fine apprentice and a cap on his head. "Ahh, there's my Andre! The package are over there ask Henri where they are to be delivered to." The boy nodded and without a word left with the packages. "So up to your old tricks, eh? How's the painting coming on?"
"It's been too long since last I enjoyed myself," Arturo replied. "I want you to make me the grandest peacock that ever done grace this fair soil. It must be done in two weeks, for the celebration will begin then. I am inviting the whole world, which means you can come too."
"I believe I shall," Planchette replied. "What's the occasion? Or is there one?"
"Do I have to have a reason?" Mazarini asked in mock puzzlement. "Well, then I'll tell everyone it's a celebration of the goddess of chance and that single hair upon her baldly pate then. We'll have games of luck and surprises to the winners. I want everyone in this dismal little town to remember my name till the earth comes to an end." With this his laugh in his loud good natured manner. "What say you, Planchette, my brilliant friend?"
"Well, that does sound grand indeed," Planchette said in his usual merry tones, but couldn't resist a good ribbing. "But, Mazarini, do to you really expect them to remember you so long?"
Planchette and Mazzarini chatted away as the former measured the latter. After which Mazzarini left to complete the preparation for his party, as he returned to his studio he began the tedious process of making out invitations and posters inviting anyone and everyone who wanted to come.
