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1.   Absinthe was formulated in the late eighteenth century. I postulate that a beverage with similar (the myth

suits my proposes, I insist on pretending to believe it) psychosis-inducing properties existed earlier. I’ll call

it absinthe until I get hold of another name.

2.   Ablld

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Next / 4. An Envoy Extraordinary Dishes The Dirt.

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This is not

the Envoy text.

It's here for visualization only.

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en he detested, yes indeedy. One such comes to mind most particularly. Let’s poke our noses into an apartment on the Plaza de Catalunya, just down from the impressively upright catheI deduce from this accuion?

 

The pieces are carefully arranged, not on the basis of type, ceramics, silver, etc., but by shape, color, pattern, in pleasing -n-span is not healthy. When one is so insistent on an orderly surroue next room. This personage, he is clearly one to be reckn the next room. Thioned with, has access hurchman have bonded.

*

         The swindler (actually, the son of a swindler) is a transplanted Burgundian, very sure of his superiority. Hcy, the Archbishop of Haute-Navarre), canon of the cathoverwhelming the plaza, radiates a serenity that the other envies with all his heart. Gustavseeded itself in both their brains and put down roots, while good sense, a less aggressive growth, has been overarched by showier vernation which has thrived due to the liberal application of absinthe. (1) D’Ollotns of his comrade, it is because he hopes that letters of introduction from one on a first-name basis with French elite will one day open doors. Zagi has reason to think his companion has pull, robust self-promotion aside. The man has magnificent miniatures in his possession that are possibly what they are proclaimed to be, the residue of a grand lineage. He’s not willing to rule out that the man has not-so-distant cousins well placed Seine-side. If d’Ollot wants so badly to conquer Parisian high society, why doesn’t he sell off his choicer holdinhiseams and acted on them. This house sits in the best street in the prosperous upper town. D’Ollot ought to fit in here, cheek by jothe common court, handling civil work and tax cases, and prosecuting debt. The middle-clafooting, their names unblemished. Smaller possessions seized for monies owed are sold after a week if the debtor cannot cover his liahe caught short better-offs thank him for salvaging their reputations, and despise him for taking easy advantage of their reversals of fortune. Tax debt is the worst. People are put in jail for it. Real estate is taxed, and also plate and furniture, everre that d’Ollot is up on who owns what. When disaster strikes a household, he is the first to lend a helping hand, holding collateral at a smart discount, knowing that many will not be able to pull themselves out of a hole. (2) With a house full of marvels, his own tax burden must be substantial. Surprisingly (or maybe not so suonghold is kept locked. His other rooms are nothing beyond well-to-do ease. There may be rumors of opulence, but there are no witnesses to it. He pays his taxes promptly. No Sergeant demanding to take an inventory of disposables will ever come banging on his door.

*

         It started as a game of What if? Two friends had egged each other on. D’Ollot has the solid business senss, accrge of bookkeeping, cover his tracks, his old man’s equal at long last. Zagi will handle the vetting of a miracle, directing a gentle interrogation of the principals. Two boys,plish miraculous recoveries themselves. The mind works in mysterious ways; add ardent faith to child-like thinking and anything can happen. At that point the flood of worshipers eager to trammel the sacred site will not be discouraged by an o name, he doodles constantly, and each nom de plume is more flamboyant than the last.

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*

         It's fun, noodling around here, eh? But it ain't making headway plot-wise. Follow me. In the next room, tdavarre. Zagi, a free spirit at heart, would have chosen another career for himself, but was slated for the chirch frthe highly unsuitable famale, for whom, Zagi affirms, he has a sincere regard. I’ve got one more thing to say before we crash this tête-à-tête. Look, the to-do that upset the king so teray, it is called, I judge him capable of anything. D’Ollot made light of his outburst, but not before he’d observed that others on the council seemed fa condemndemning impossible extrndem ndem ndemavagance and making recom ndemmendations. The king’sndem ndem reply had been, 

We trust in thndemndeme mercy of thendem ndemndem Lord to see us through.

This platitudndemndeme was Jakome’s ansndemndemwer to any challe

nging situation, butndemndem on this occasion the rote

refrain, after a sincndemndemere plea for reform, was

 too much to bearndemndem. D’Ollot had snappend

-set, vowing henceforth to adhere to hi

s father’s own oft-expressed credo:

God helps those who help themselves.

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               *

 making recommendations. The

king’s repng recly had been, 

We trust in the mercy of the Lor

d to see usng rec through.

This platitude was Jakome’s an

swer to anng recy challe

nging situation, but on this occ

asion thvng rece rong recte

refrain, after a sincere plea fo

r refong recng recrm, was

 too much to bear. D’Ollot had

snappeng recng recnd

-set, vowing henceforth to a

dherng recng rece to hi

s father’s own o

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I need an image to jazz up this page. (It's a very long letter, and I've gotten some complaints.) I tried to edit it down, I swear, but I am so taken with the man's witty take on odd goings-on that I have decided to leave it intact.

 

Can't find an image of my snoop anywhere. Not too surprising. He was probably an lesser relative of the King of Saxony, to be gotten rid of with an unimportant assignment in a distant locale.

 

You will see that the goofus put his whole heart and soul into his amusing report. He might have juiced it up, to make himself look good, that just occurred to me. 

 

Anyway, here's Mr. Peabody, of Rocky and Bullwinkle fame. Have a gander at him, and I'll continue to hunt for von __________.  

Something here, not sure what.

This is mostly a device to break up the long letter.

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Maybe Ask The Expert:

a conversation with Mr. Peabody, 

himself a history buff,

on how I'm doing with historical details of my plot.

Here will be a figure

out of my History of

Costume book. 

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Caption: Can't find this

fool. No portrait

available. Like I said,

he was a nobody.

 

Here's my stand-in for 

a noble ne'er-do well, who 

would have been dressed

very much the same way,

in the late sixteenth century

puffed short pants (kind of

like the gym shorts we wore in

high school) and hose.

 

At left, I'll have circle

enlargements of glove,

codpiece, and heavy chain

around the neck, explaining the fine points of the smart

masculine style of the period.

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In my book on the history of perfume, there is a chapter on gloves. I'm going to dig something

good out of there for this bozo,

who fancied that he cut quite

an elegant figure, paunch notwithstanding.

Order of

something

or other.

Smelling to

high heaven

glove.

Very bulky

codpiece. I'll

have fun with

this.

4. AnEnvoy Extraordinary  

 

dishes the dirt.

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Haute-Navarre: a boil on the neck of Spain or the ass of France, depending on your loyalties.

 

A remote, unfashionable location, lousy with spies and diplomats (same difference, right?) quarreling, negotiating, gathering and passing information. And, writing reports. And, trying to figure out how to turn a bizarre situation to their monarch's good. (It was all monarchs in those days. Republicanism had not yet reared its ugly head.)

 

One especially canny diplomat has come to my attention. His communications are full of entertaining insights that you will not find in the history books. My Wayback Machine is about to outperform Mr. Peabody's, exponentially.  Sorry, old buddy, old pal (I know him from, yes, way back. from when the shoe first aired), that's the way the dog-cookie crumbles.

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