Laurel arrived at the house that Mazzarini was staying in on the Rue de St. Jean, and asked the owner to show her to Mazzarini's apartments. She was shown into a studio on the top floor that was flooded by light from two large windows on either side of the room, she also saw that the place was filled with painting, canvases, and other such tools of the artist's trade. As she looked around at the splendid works, she forgot about the horrors of the morning.
The peace of the room was disturbed by the sound of snoring that grated through the normally peaceful surroundings. The owner shamble over to a cot in the corner of the room and kicked it's leg to rouse the large sleeping man who laid atop it. "Arturo! Hey, Mazzarini! You've got a visitor!" the woman sounded. The snoring stop and the sleeping giant rolled over and fell off the cot, an empty bottle of wine rolled out of his hand. The woman grabbed the bottle and tutted. "You celebrate too much, Mazzarini! Your behavior is most ungodly! But make yourself presentable you've got a visitor!"
Mazzarini pulled himself to his feet, and stood over the owner and pinched her cheeks with a mischievous smile on his lips, "Madame, I am always presentable!" He then ran his fingers through his hair, tucked his shirt into his pants, and turned to Laurel. His smile broadened when he saw the vivacious little vixen, her golden hair cascading over her sumptous shoulder, glowed like flames in the sun light, her humble dress revealed the voluptous curves of her body, her eyes like pools of deep blue that a man could easily drown in, and the sweet, laughing smile that played across those perfect lips. "Madame, you have played me false!" Mazzarini said to his landlady. "You did not bring me a visitor, you brought me an angel!"
Laurel blushed modestly, "Messieur, you jest! I have come from M. Planchette to deliver your suit." She watched the large man draw nearer, and despite his earlier protestations he seemed to be making an effort to straighten his appearance. "I pray your pardon for disturbing you." Mazzarini drew near and peered closely at her. Feeling slightly awkward under this scrutiny, Laurel remarked, "All of these are your creation? They really are quite remarkable!"
Mazzarini studied her for a few moments more, then said, "Remarkable? no. They lack inspiration, my lovely!" Mazzarini gestured around. "Portraits come readiliy enough, seeing as their fat arses are sitting right in front of you... but how can you capture the beauty of a goddess without a model?" Mazzarini took Laurel's arm and lead her around the his studio. "I have been searching for inspiration where I thought none to be... until I saw you. You must model for me! You must be my angel, my Venus! Say you will!"
Laurel blushed scarlet and began to pull away from Mazzarini. "Messiuer, I am only here to deliver your suit! I'm sure there are many ladies more beautiful than I who would be happy to model for you!" Though few respectable women would agree to serve as model for Venus. Laurel handed Mazzarini the package and began to back away. "M. Planchette told me to remind you that he is still handy with a sword!"
Mazzarini stared at Laurel for a few seconds then threw back his head and laughed heartily. "Did he now?" Mazzarini cried. "You have no need to worry about me, my little goddess, I'm perfectly harmless! But in all seriousness pray that you reconsider, I'll be willing to pay you!" As he spoke he unwrapped the package that Laurel had brought, pulled free the coat within and laughed merrily. "Ah, that Planchette is a veritable genius with cloth!" he confided in Laurel. "This is for my party! I'm sure you've heard the whole of Calais has been invited! It shall be memorable til the end of time! You will be going, yes?"
Mazzarini's merry laugh set Laurel more at her ease, he acted like one of Planchette's friends, but Venus was out of the question. "Pray tell, sir, what are you celebrating?"
"Life, mon chere! It is a celebrate for life!" Mazzarini cried. "Do say you'll be there!"
Laurel watched as Mazzarini when down on one knee, took her hand, and reverently kissed it. Laurel gave him a soft laugh, "Well, if all of Calais will be there, how could I pass over a celebration to life, M. Mazzarini!"
Mazzarini quickly stood, grabbed Laurel round the waist and spun her around the room in his arms. "My lovely angel, you have made my week! You shall reign over the celebration like a queen!" He sat her down on her feet and kissed both of her cheeks. Then looked over at his landland, "I have found a queen for my celebration!"
Mazzarini rushed forward and grabbed her hand again. "Don't go like that!" Mazzarini pleaded. "I've frightened you, I beg your pardon! But don't go in anger, fair angel. I mean you no harm, I was overwhelmed by your beauty. I have been looking for inspiration for so long... and when I saw you... I saw that perfection that has inspired men since the beginning of art. Men have died trying to capture such beauty as the lord has given you."
Laurel blushed, pulling away. "I'm sure you are mistaken, messiuer! I'll come, but... but I am most unworthy of your honors and your praise sir! But I really should go..."
Mazzarini grinned, "Then I'll walk back with you, and Planchette will vouch for my character." Planchette grabbed the parcel with his suit and held his arm out to Laurel.
