“… – Here is the famous Vosges Palace! - said the translator. “Would you like to take a look?” Nikodim Petrovich obediently stepped under the arch leading to the Vosges ensemble. And this was the greatest mistake in his modest life. Nikodim Petrovich sat down on a bench in the park in the middle of the immortal ring of palaces. They didn’t make the slightest impression on the businessman, they stand close to each other, cramped, all the houses are similar to each other, like twins, the architect is a fool, buyers don’t like it. Nikodim Petrovich turned his gaze to the equestrian statue, thought that such statues were a dime a dozen in St. Petersburg, turned his gaze to the next bench and first of all noticed the sneakers, thinking that the sneakers were rubbish - made in China, above the sneakers were jeans, no, not a company, thought Nikodim Petrovich looked even higher and saw a light jacket. It was the month of October, and the weather in Paris was gentle, warm. Nikodim Petrovich casually looked higher and discovered a thin female profile. The woman, feeling the gaze on her, involuntarily turned around. Now Nikodim Petrovich saw a seemingly simple, but pure, inspiredly tender face with deep light eyes, like Filippo Lippi’s Madonna. He, of course, had never heard of the medieval Italian painter Lippi. But Nikodim Petrovich’s heart stopped, and he thought that he had died. It turned white, like laser printer paper. Even my lips turned white. ..."