I hear a carriage. It's M. Chose [Thing] who comes to see his treasure. You mean his treasure-keeper, my dear., p. 107 1852

Editor: This delicate print by Paul Gavarni, "I hear a carriage…", feels like a captured whisper. The lines are so expressive, almost gossamer. How do you interpret this captured moment? Curator: Ah, Gavarni. He was a master of capturing the veiled truths of Parisian life, wasn't he? I see here a scene dripping with subtle power dynamics, wouldn’t you agree? The reclining woman, seemingly indifferent, while the other stands watch – a silent contract, perhaps? Or maybe, just maybe, a shared knowing glance against the world. What do you think? Editor: That's such an interesting take! I hadn’t considered the power dynamic so explicitly. Curator: It’s all suggestion, isn't it? Gavarni invites us into the drama, leaving us to script the ending. A delicious ambiguity, really.