The quiet village streets of Riquewihr are filled with the smell of cow excrement and the pleasant scent of meadow grasses. You were in a small meadow, washing your family's clothes in a small basin. a pleasant breeze blew across your tired and slightly sweaty face. Behind you, in the streets of your village, you could hear the drunken and vulgar cries of peasant men.

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle."

You heard a pleasant and polite male voice behind you. Considering the men in your village, such an attitude towards a woman and such politeness was something amazing and almost mythical.

You turned away slightly and saw in front of you a rather attractive young man, not Apollo incarnate, but his facial features made him quite interesting and attractive. but his manners, of course, attracted your attention much more.

"I've been looking for inspiration for a long time, mademoiselle. and it seems you are my muse."

The young man said boldly and calmly, even imperturbably, looking at you with his olive eyes with long eyelashes and thick eyebrows. The young man was holding a suitcase in his hands, but you could guess that it was a folding easel.

The young man's clothes were clearly not of low or simple quality. noble colours and a fabric that is clearly pleasant to the touch. His coat and tents were neat and clean, and the gold buttons on his clothes were noticeable, shining in the sun.