Tuesday, 23 May 1916

After breakfast on Tuesday, the four took a taxi from the Ritz to visit Notre Dame. As they walked around the enormous structure to examine its exterior, Maria pointed up and said, "I saw slender arches like those on the Münster in Freiburg, and I had thought they were merely part of the ornamentation. But if they are here as well - and much bigger and more complex - they cannot be only decorative."

David smiled. "No, as graceful as they are, they have another purpose. I had puzzled over the ones on Bath Abbey in much the same way, so I looked into it. They're called flying buttresses, and they're designed to support the walls and carry the thrust of the roof beams. Without them, the walls would need to be much thicker and have fewer and smaller windows."

"Or have a crib-work of huge beams filling the interior," Michael crossed his forearms in front of his face. "But the aim was to create a vast, open space representing the realm of God. In the twelfth century, buttresses evolved from thick and massive into these slender arches, allowing tall, thin walls and large windows. This cathedral is one of the earliest examples of what came to be known as Gothic architecture. Inside, we'll see the ogival arches and pointed rib vaults, which, with flying buttresses, are the style's signature elements."

After circling the exterior, with David and Michael alternately sharing what they had learnt through their reading, they entered to find the church nearly empty, save for a few people gathered near the altar.

"Only one tour group." Michael searched again. "On our previous visits, there had always been several, and each larger – some much larger. This shows the disruption of the war rather well."

David squeezed Maria's hand and pointed. "Up there, the roof arches. See where they meet the walls? Outside, the flying buttresses carry the thrust from those junctions down to the ground and stabilise both the roof and the walls."

"This place has me buzzing again, David, similar to the Münster in Bern." Maria shook her head. "I still remember how you tricked me. Leading me in with my eyes closed, and then the overwhelming awe when you told me to open them. I have that same sensation here."

"Indeed, without sight, the only changes sensed when entering are the cooler temperature, the musty smell, and the sudden absence of birdsong. There's no magic in the building, and one does not feel its awe without seeing it. The magic is what the mind makes of the magnificence. It's what I call visual subversion."

"That's an interesting thought."

"It's the reality, though. These churches were designed to coerce the masses into working their fingers to the bone to build and maintain them while supporting a life of ease for the clergy."

"There's your bias again, David."

He shrugged and swept his arm back and forth past the scene. "Possibly, Maria. But propose another reason for building this. The original purpose was simply to provide a place in which to share Christ's teachings, so why such extravagance?"

David waited for a response, and when none came, he continued, "The slow but steady increase in the grandeur of such places is a wonderful example of subversion. But let's leave this for later discussion; we have magnificent architecture and art to examine and ponder."

After a long while of examining the intricate carvings, the paintings and the sunlit windows, Mary said, "I should have brought a shawl; I'm beginning to chill."

Michael placed an arm around her and pulled out his watch. "We should be going anyway. Taxi back to the hotel to refresh, then we can walk to Lucas from there."

During the ride back, Michael answered Maria's questions about the restaurant. "It dates from the rebuilding of central Paris in the 1830s, but its fame began thirty years later, during the Second Empire, when it became the favoured restaurant of the Parisian elite."

"And for the tourists."

"No, the international elite didn't begin frequenting it until the 1880s, after a new sculpted wood interior was designed and installed by Louis Majorelle."

Maria tilted her head. "Louis Majorelle?"

"One of the most renowned Art Nouveau designers. The interior of Lucas is among his chefs-d'oeuvres, and it enticed art lovers from all over the world and, of course, the moneyed tourists."

After returning to the hotel to refresh themselves, the two couples walked along Rue Saint-Honoré for three blocks to Rue Royale. Then, as they turned the corner, Michael nodded over his shoulder. "Maxim's, where we'll dine this evening, is just down the street."

A few minutes later, while they were being escorted to their table, Maria's head seemed to be on a swivel as she took in the ornately carved walls and the Belle Époque decor. When they had settled in their seats, she said, "I have the same buzzing here that I had in the cathedral."

David chuckled. "Yes, but the visual subversion here is designed to entice you to dine as sumptuously as the setting." He paused to examine one of the carvings on an archway near their table. "It would be difficult, in a room like this, to think of eating simply."