SWDnovel 44. What? You're ripping off customers?
44. What? You're ripping off customers?
A century ago, France once controlled most of South India, and with its elite troops and local vassal states, it rivaled Great Britain.
At that time, after the disastrous defeat at Vandivas and the fall of Pontchari in 1760, France had completely lost its hegemony in South Asia. According to the treaty, it was left with only a few small coastal trading ports and was not allowed to build fortifications or station troops.
By 1803, France's influence in India was practically nonexistent, with only a few merchants and down-on-their-luck military advisors wandering around, and it was no longer capable of confronting the British army.
Over the past century, many French people have come to India, such as the French restaurant in front of Dugan.
This French restaurant is located in a business district less than a 10-minute walk from the Governor's Palace.
The majority of people living here are white Europeans, with the occasional wealthy local Indian.
This restaurant boasts an exquisite ambiance, with clean countertops, white satin tablecloths, triangular napkins, and gleaming silver cutlery—everything is perfectly authentically French.
The restaurant owner is also the head chef, and his wife is in charge of front desk reception. They are both Parisians who came to India to seek their fortune, and it is said that they have been in Bangalore for two generations.
The restaurant didn't seem to be doing very well. At lunchtime, the hall, which could accommodate 60 or 70 people, only had about 20 people scattered around, some of whom were hired waiters.
Dugan didn't hold back too much. "Please bring out all the signature dishes of your restaurant. Also, I need a bottle of red wine, preferably a 1710 Bordeaux."
The proprietress's eyes lit up, thinking that she had met a big customer (or rather, a jerk).
Before long, all the dishes that Dugen ordered were served.
To be fair, the food at this French restaurant was indeed delicious, meticulously prepared, and beautifully presented.
Compared to the cooks in their own army, that was practically pig swill.
The fine Bordeaux red wine was very authentic, which pleased Duggan greatly. He warmly complimented the restaurant's hostess, saying that he hadn't tasted anything so good since leaving Europe.
The proprietress humbly said "thank you" and took the opportunity to present the bill, "Sir, the total is 55 pounds."
Slightly drunk, Du Genqi didn't take the bill to check it carefully, nor did he look at how much money was in his purse. Instead, he generously took out his purse and threw it directly to the proprietress.
Moreover, Dugen found the proprietress to be quite attractive, especially her fair and delicate hands, which he lingered over for a few moments.
"Consider the extra money a tip." Dugan felt that the way he tossed the money bag was very stylish, exuding the aura of a domineering CEO.
Dugan was so confident because he had frequented French restaurants in London on several occasions.
Dugan still vividly remembers the most recent tip.
French cold appetizer: foie gras with truffle bread (2 shillings 6 pence)
Marseille seafood chowder 1 shilling 8 pence
Pan-fried Normandy lamb chops with black pepper sauce (3 shillings)
Braised venison in red wine with seasonal vegetables 3 shillings 4 pence
Cream cheese fruit pudding 1 shilling 2 pence
Freshly ground mocha coffee with honey pastries 1 shilling
A 1710 Bordeaux Left Bank First Growth red wine, £3.12 shillings.
It totaled just over £5, equivalent to four months' salary for an ordinary British infantryman, but for Duggan, it was just a simple meal.
Even when the proprietress offered an exorbitant price of £45, Dugan didn't take it seriously.
But what happened next caught Dugan completely off guard.
In front of Colonel Dugan, the proprietress counted the coins in the money bag one by one, and it came to exactly 40 pounds.
The proprietress presented the bill to Duggan again, telling the well-dressed British officer that the total cost of the meal was £45, including £25 for the nearly century-old Bordeaux red wine alone.
"A rip-off! Extortion!" Dugan was stunned. Just a few minutes ago, Dugan was praising the French restaurant for its exquisite food and excellent service, but now he immediately changed his tune.
"I ordered my steak medium-well, but you've cooked it to medium-well!"
"With so much salt, did you buy cheap smuggled salt from the black market?"
"I know the Governor of Mysore very well, I'm going to file a complaint against you!"
"Don't mistake me for a country bumpkin; a 1710 Bordeaux red wine isn't even worth 25 pounds!"
Faced with Dugan's incessant complaints, the proprietress remained silent, always wearing an elegant smile.
Only after Dugan finished speaking did the proprietress explain, "Dear guest, this is neither London nor Paris. The long-distance shipping costs and losses during transit are enough to increase the value of Porto wines by more than three times."
"As for the cost of food, most of it goes to the restaurant's renovation, labor costs, and high taxes."
"You say we bought smuggled salt from the black market? I'll take that as a drunken joke. We have all the necessary paperwork, and it can withstand inspection even if the Governor of Mysore comes."
"There is no reason to overcharge customers..." the proprietress said calmly. "Sir, you are a respectable European. I guess you were in a hurry to leave. Why don't you give me an address and I will send my Indian servant to make the trip?"
Her words were reasonable, well-founded, and measured, and even the other hundred customers in the restaurant nodded in agreement, all agreeing with the proprietress's statement.
At this moment, Dugan looked around and realized that other people's tables only had two or three dishes and rarely had anyone drinking alcohol, while he had at least seven or eight plates piled up in front of him.
"..." Dugan felt somewhat ashamed. In both his past and present lives, he had no history of dining and dashing, but today's expenses were truly astonishing, and he had already given the restaurant his purse.
Dugan wanted the landlady to send someone with him to the military camp to collect the money, or to have Captain Cook come and deliver it.
But the owner disagreed, saying, "Sir, I suggest you leave the horse in front of the door as a mount, and pay the additional 15 pounds later..."
"That won't do..." Dugan wasn't worried about the money anymore, but rather about losing face.
Just as things were about to get tense, an elegant girl spoke up.
"Put the difference for this gentleman on my tab," the other person said in French.
Dugan turned his head and saw a beautiful and kind noble lady sitting alone in a corner, smiling at him.
"God, is this the angel you sent to save me?"
Because this young and beautiful lady just happened to fit Dugan's aesthetic.
She has fair skin, a graceful figure, a cute face, a mature body, two dimples when she smiles, and two charming little tiger teeth.
If God knew at that moment that Dugan felt no pious gratitude but was instead overcome by lust, He would probably send Michael down to earth to give Dugan a good beating.
So, Dugan tightened his big bad wolf tail, walked uninvited to the little white rabbit's table, took off the military cap he had just put on and tucked it under his arm, stood with his feet together, faced the girl, and bowed slightly.
"God is my witness, thank you for your generous help," Dugan said. "I am Colonel Dugan Connby of the 108th Infantry Regiment."
After a brief self-introduction, Dugan addressed the noblewoman in fluent French: "May you, beautiful and kind lady, stay young forever and always be smiling. If I may be so bold as to ask, could you please leave your name and address so I can return the money?"
The awkward thank-you speech made the noble lady smile slightly, revealing two extremely cute dimples on her cheeks and a set of flawless white teeth.
This made Dugan, who already had ulterior motives, even more tempted.
Although Dugan's appearance would be considered handsome in any era, staring directly at a young lady like that is still impolite.
The noble lady hurriedly took out a small feather fan to cover her face, but her eyes were already filled with shyness and her cheeks were flushed.
Dugan realized he had lost his composure.
Having lived two lifetimes and reached a combined mental age of over fifty, I was completely captivated by a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl.