There was also a music hall called Elysium on Montmartre Heights. It had been built in the eighteenth century and had once hosted small theatrical performances, but now young people used it to dance the waltz.
Directly opposite the music hall stood the newly planned slaughterhouse. In truth, they could have chosen a less densely populated location, closer to a water source, and spent less on buying the land.
The slaughterhouse's expense did not lie in constructing the buildings above ground. Even if it were built on the scale of a temple, with imitation marble used in place of actual marble, how much could it possibly cost?
Bonaparte had not danced the waltz before, but now even he danced it himself, and that only made it spread faster.
Besides, male workers would go there to dance for a while after work. French "boxing" involved kicking with one's feet, and Bonaparte had once taken Georgiana to watch it... In any case, in clubs like those, anyone who could lift their leg high was greatly admired.
While people here danced with abandon, the animals in the slaughterhouse over there let out miserable cries. It did not matter if the music drowned them out, and besides, an incompletely demolished city wall still stood between them.
"How did even you know?" Georgiana asked her maid, Margarita.
"Everyone knows," Margarita said as if it were only natural, carrying the clothes to be changed into behind the screen.
"Why didn't I know?" Georgiana asked.
"You asked me, didn't you? So don't you know now?" Margarita said.
It seemed like some strange cycle, but before she could think it through, the sound of military boots came from beyond the screen.
"Wait, you are not allowed in!" Mary shouted.
Disordered footsteps followed. Before long, Georgiana saw the figure