It was the opening night of the Vienna State Opera House and absolutely everyone who believed themselves to be of the ruling class was there. Mozart’s Don Giovanni was about to start on this chilly May night in the year of our lord 1869. Of course I wasn’t of the ruling class. I was hired in for the night to attend to all the primped up peacocks and their spoiled wives and mistresses who thought that it was below them to hang their own coats. My employers for the night had been in a rush or perhaps they may have been more thorough in checking my references.

So far it had been a profitable night rifling through the pockets of the rich and stupid, just taking a little each time so as not to be noticed. I had yet to find a ‘mule’ to carry out my ill-begotten gains. I knew full well that the management would search each and every one of us who had been brought in for opening night.  What I needed was for one of the privileged who was attending to act as an unwitting courier to carry my ‘takings’ right past the watchful eyes of the commissars. Casually watching the ‘well bred’ saunter through the opulent lobby, I hoped to see an aristocrat I recognised and would know where they lived so I wouldn’t need to go to the trouble of following them after the performance. It would be a risk to place my stash in their coat but I was pretty sure I would be able to relieve them of it before they got home as well as any other valuables.

There was a commotion at the entrance as the central doors were flung open and a large group entered. It was obvious that the majority of the group were sycophants orbiting around the central couple. A number of the commissars quickly moved to attend to the new arrivals needs. One of the commissars almost pushed a local Duke’s wife out of the way in his haste. Just for a moment the group parted for me to see a profile of the short man at the centre. It was similar enough to his cousin, the French Emperor, for me to realise that this was the Prince Napoleon.

As the group moved up to climb the wide main staircase, a side door opened and a lady entered all dressed in her finery. She walked quietly, watching the mêlée ahead ascend the stairs with a wry smile upon her lips. She was dressed in a dark blue dress, large skirts floating just above the floor. Silver beading rose from her tight waist up the bodice in lines spreading out as they reached to her ample bosom. She was obviously wearing a tight corset beneath, like most of the ladies, that pushed their breasts upwards, but there did seem plenty there even though her fur wrap concealed her décolletage. Black lace covered her arms from her elbows all the way to her hands, with a sparkling bracelet around her left wrist, a small purse in her right hand.  Her black hair was pulled back into