Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 73: Le Bon Marche Part 3

They went to their next destination in the Le Bon Marche.

The storefront was wider than the others. Less glass display, more open floor. Inside, counters were arranged in blocks instead of rows. Machines sat on platforms, each tagged with a small placard, which is their designated price.

There were also a lot of people inside, listening intently to the demonstrators who were operating on some appliances.

"This is our next trip?" Elisabeth looked at Napoleon II quizzically.

"Yes," Napoleon II said. "We are not buying but we’ll entertain ourselves from how these salesmen pitch their wares."

They stepped fully inside. A man near the center spotted them.

"Sir! Ma’am,!" he called, already smiling. "If you have a moment—just a moment—I’d like to show you something remarkable."

Napoleon II slowed but didn’t stop. Elisabeth did, curiosity already pulling her forward.

The salesman took that as agreement.

He gestured to a waist-high machine mounted on a sturdy frame. A metal drum sat inside a housing, wires running down one side to a switch box.

"This," the man said, patting it once, "is an electric washing machine. It’s one of the best-selling appliances in the country! It can wash your clothes without hand scrubbing. And it can do it fast."

He reached into a basket and pulled out a bundle of cloth that was stained on purpose.

"You load them here," he said, opening the drum. "Add water. Soap. Then—"

He flipped the switch.

The machine hummed. The drum turned and the water sloshed inside.

Then moments later the drum picked up speed. The cloth inside folded over itself again and again, pulled through the water without tearing.

The salesman let it run for a few seconds, then switched it off. He opened the drum and pulled one shirt free. Water dripped from it onto the floor.

"Clean," he said, holding it up. "No blisters. No aching hands. You can wash a family’s worth of clothes before lunch."

A few people in the crowd nodded. Someone murmured approval.

Elisabeth leaned closer. She touched the damp fabric, then rubbed it lightly between her fingers.

"It didn’t twist," she said. "The seams are still straight."

"Exactly, ma’am," the salesman said quickly. "The motion is controlled and gentle. You won’t ruin your clothes.

"I see, that’s a nice contraption you have there," Napoleon II said. "How much is it?"

"It’s only 90 francs! If you can’t afford to pay in full, we offer installments," said the salesman as he pointed at one of the cardboard stands next to his spot.

"Oh I see, installments. For sure it has interest," Napoleon II chuckled. "Well, I must say, technology is good for the lady of the house. We’ll take a look around and decide whether we will get the washing machine or not."

"No problem sir! I’ll be waiting!"

With that, they left the man alone. Elisabeth asked in a whisper.

"Are we going to buy that washing machine?"

Napoleon II shook his head. "Nope."

"Then why are you implying that you might get one? Aren’t you making him hope for something that isn’t going to happen?"

"No, I just said it so that we can get out. If you entertain the salesman with questions, they will eventually make you buy it. And besides, we already have all the technology around here in the palace."

Elisabeth frowned, then nodded slowly. "That makes sense."

They continued walking.

The layout shifted again. Smaller counters now. Compact devices arranged in neat rows. Fewer moving parts. More wires.

A sharp click echoed nearby, followed by a faint hum.

Elisabeth turned toward the sound.

A man stood behind a narrow counter, sleeves rolled up, holding a slice of bread. In front of him sat a small metal box with two slots on top.

"Fresh bread, anyone?" the salesman called, cheerful.

He dropped the slice into the slot and pressed a lever.

The machine hummed. A dull red glow appeared inside.

Elisabeth stepped closer. "It’s glowing."

"Electric heating elements," the man said.

A warm smell drifted out. Toasting bread.

Then—click.

The bread popped up.

Elisabeth startled slightly, then laughed. "It jumped."

"Perfectly toasted," the salesman said, lifting it. "No burning. No waiting."

Napoleon II glanced at the price tag. "30 francs."

"Yes sir! 30 francs and you can have this toaster at home and toast your bread while you make coffee."

Napoleon II chuckled. "Thanks but not interested. Thank you though!"

"No problem sir! I am accustomed to getting rejected, even the girl I want rejected me. No worries."

Elisabeth blinked at the salesman, then looked away, half amused, half unsure.

They moved on.

A tall metal stand sat near the aisle, blades spinning behind a wire guard. It hummed softly as the fan blades rotated at high speed.

An electric fan.

A salesman stood beside it, one hand resting on the pole, the other adjusting a dial.

"Summer heat," he said to no one in particular. "Gone."

He turned the knob. The fan sped up. Papers on the counter fluttered. A woman’s skirt tugged lightly at her knees.

"I have those in my bedroom," Elisabeth recalled.

Napoleon II glanced at the tag. "Forty francs."

"Worth every one," the man said. "Bedrooms. Sitting rooms. Even kitchens."

They walked before the pitch could continue.

The next section was louder. A deeper hum. Pipes ran along the back wall, painted white. A boxy machine sat on a raised platform, thick hoses feeding into it.

"This is quite something," Elisabeth said.

"A heat pump," Napoleon II replied.

A demonstrator turned a valve. Warm air flowed from a vent. A thermometer on the side crept upward.

"Winter heating," the man said. "Or cooling, depending on the setting. You won’t even need a fireplace," the demonstrator continued.

"Impressive, just like the heating technology we have in the palace," Elisabeth said and then immediately covered her mouth as she realized she had spoke too much.

"Oh, you guys live in a palace. Well, you do have a look of the wealthy."

"No, we are from a humble origin," Napoleon II said and added. "We are just riding on the economic miracle of France."

"True! Good thing we have the Bonaparte as our royal family. If it’s the Bourbons, I don’t think this would happen."

Napoleon II chuckled, grateful for his words.

"Well, we are just looking. We’ll come back soon."

They crossed into the next aisle.

Tall cabinets stood in a neat row, their surfaces smooth and clean. Each had a thick door with a heavy handle.

A salesman opened one.

Cold spilled out.

Inside were metal shelves. Bottles stood upright. Wrapped meat lay dry, not packed in ice. Vegetables sat in shallow trays, crisp and clean.

"A refrigerator," the man said. "Electric cooling. Constant temperature. Get now for only 100 francs!"

And they moved on to another row, and another, witnessing new technologies that are now in the household of middle-class families.

Electric irons sat in straight lines, their cords coiled neatly beside them. A salesman pressed one down on a cloth, steam hissing briefly before vanishing.

Kettles followed. Metal bodies, insulated handles. One was plugged in and quietly boiling without flame. A small crowd watched, unimpressed but attentive.

Vacuum cleaners stood upright like sentries. Long hoses. Canvas bags. A man demonstrated by dragging one across a rug scattered with crumbs, and the crumbs disappeared.

Sewing machines occupied the next block. Needles moving fast enough to blur.

Electric lamps came next. Desk lamps. Standing lamps. Adjustable arms. Switches instead of matches. Light appeared instantly, clean and steady.

Then mixers. Compact motors driving metal arms through bowls of dough. The paste folded in on itself.

And there’s many more to the point they didn’t notice the time.

"Are you enjoying it?" Napoleon II asked.

"Of course I do. Those technologies...it’s so life changing that ordinary people could have them in their homes. Times have truly changed!"

"Well, it’s time that we leave the place now. There’s a lighting ceremony outside Le Bon Marche."

"Lighting? But didn’t this establishment already have lighting?"

"Well, it’s a new one. Do you want to see?"

"Of course!"