(Humorous story)

After a stunning success in publishing his own collection of poems, Louis Francis was sad. No new poems were written, and the imperial court had already begun to gossip that Paul Verlaine had abandoned his family and left with his lover Arthur Rimbaud in London. And the work in the Department was no longer pleasing.

“Well,” he thought, “Maybe I just need to change the situation. In the end, at court, there is such a terrible atmosphere of intrigue and envy, there’s nothing to think about the arrival of Muse!”

At the same moment, Louis Francis ordered his servants to pack his things and asked the chief for several weeks. He decided to head to his suburban estate. Fresh air, new experiences, quiet life – all this was supposed to help find inspiration.

Arriving at the estate, Louis Francais decided to take a walk in the garden. In fact, Louis Francis was called quite differently. His real name was Maximillian Lionel Delmar, and he was a native Englishman. 121 years ago he was turned into a vampire. By vampire standards, he was very young. And life in a mansion full of old and experienced vampires who like to teach seemed unbearable to him. Therefore, he said goodbye to his friends, Queen Victoria (they liked to have long philosophical conversations over a cup of wine once a month) and left Misty Albion in search of a better life. Having traveled for several years, in 1870 he decided to settle in France and for two years now he was at the imperial court. However, he couldn`t write poems. Not knowing what to do, Maximillian became depressed. He drank all the wine he only found in the cellars. When the wine ran out, he started wandering around the house, not knowing where to put himself. As a result, he closed in his room, covered himself with a blanket and began to feel sad.

So went day and night, until one day he decided that he was tired. When he got out from under the covers, he was surprised to notice that the situation around was even sadder: dusty cobwebs everywhere, fabric spreading out, the tree turned into rubble. With difficulty, Maximillian found more or less acceptable clothes in the wardrobe.

Having gone outside, he hardly made his way through the thickets of the garden. Then he walked for a short while in the forest and after some time ended up in a suburb of some city. But everything was so strange! Who and why put this slurry instead of pavement? What are these strange wagons and where are the horses?

Maximillian decided to go into a cafe and drink coffee, and, at the same time, to get intel on the shadowy subtle situation. Sitting at the table, he unfolded the newspaper.

“2019? This … This is impossible! Have I really slept for so long? .. President? Which president, president of what? Oh, I hope they haven’t fired me from the Department. And how is Queen Victoria doing?”

A waitress approached him.

“Monsieur, what will you order?”

“Could you please have some coffee?”

“Americano, latte, cappuccino? Soy milk, double shots of espresso? Would you like some toppings? Perhaps add nuts or chocolate?”

“My Girlie… C o f f e e?!”

That evening, he sat on his estate and began to feel sad again. So many incomprehensible things. Then Maximillian jumped up.

“No,” he declared resolutely to himself, “There is no more sadness! Let the ball rolling! I have to deal with this new world! So, I`ll hit this town at night!”