Terms of service

The maid in a check shirt knocks on the door. “Miss, are you there? It’s late.” Silence. She sighs and goes back into the sitting room, striding across the chequer-board carpet. She has already dusted the shelf full of records; only the baroque-style sideboards are left. The little dog jumps up from the sofa and races towards Marie Louise’s room, whining and scratching at the door.

The sun is already high in the sky over Trastevere, and it floods the apartment with light. Marie Louise leaves her room – a hurried chignon bun, a silk kimono. “Good morning everyone,” she says, and with a ballerina’s gait she carries her lithe figure into the kitchen, where she puts an espresso coffee pot on. “What’s the temperature like?” she asks the maid. “It’s pleasant outside, I’ve just got back from the fish market”.

The maid in a check shirt knocks on the door. “Miss, are you there? It’s late.” Silence. She sighs and goes back into the sitting room, striding across the chequer-board carpet. She has already dusted the shelf full of records; only the baroque-style sideboards are left. The little dog jumps up from the sofa and races towards Marie Louise’s room, whining and scratching at the door.

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The sun is already high in the sky over Trastevere, and it floods the apartment with light. Marie Louise leaves her room – a hurried chignon bun, a silk kimono. “Good morning everyone,” she says, and with a ballerina’s gait she carries her lithe figure into the kitchen, where she puts an espresso coffee pot on. “What’s the temperature like?” she asks the maid. “It’s pleasant outside, I’ve just got back from the fish market”.

The maid in a check shirt knocks on the door. “Miss, are you there? It’s late.” Silence. She sighs and goes back into the sitting room, striding across the chequer-board carpet. She has already dusted the shelf full of records; only the baroque-style sideboards are left. The little dog jumps up from the sofa and races towards Marie Louise’s room, whining and scratching at the door.

The sun is already high in the sky over Trastevere, and it floods the apartment with light. Marie Louise leaves her room – a hurried chignon bun, a silk kimono. “Good morning everyone,” she says, and with a ballerina’s gait she carries her lithe figure into the kitchen, where she puts an espresso coffee pot on. “What’s the temperature like?” she asks the maid. “It’s pleasant outside, I’ve just got back from the fish market”.

The maid in a check shirt knocks on the door. “Miss, are you there? It’s late.” Silence. She sighs and goes back into the sitting room, striding across the chequer-board carpet. She has already dusted the shelf full of records; only the baroque-style sideboards are left. The little dog jumps up from the sofa and races towards Marie Louise’s room, whining and scratching at the door.

The sun is already high in the sky over Trastevere, and it floods the apartment with light. Marie Louise leaves her room – a hurried chignon bun, a silk kimono. “Good morning everyone,” she says, and with a ballerina’s gait she carries her lithe figure into the kitchen, where she puts an espresso coffee pot on. “What’s the temperature like?” she asks the maid. “It’s pleasant outside, I’ve just got back from the fish market”.