#v:ls:wp

“But, my dear Princess --” Elisabeth (Elizaveta now, she reminded herself, and the reminder thrilled) said, smiling brightly at Dunya as she smoothed her skirts, “I thought you said this was a small gathering, and look! It is almost a ball. Surely you would have warned me if there was to be dancing, or you would truly be an amie sournoise. Regardez-moi, I am hardly dressed well enough to dance.” Still, her grey eyes were cheerful, and she eagerly scanned the room to see who else was in attendance.

“Ah, M’sieur Pierre, I really am glad you’ve came, si je puis me permettre de le dire,” the princess declared, smiling at up him from where she was sitting, her skirts elegantly arranged in a comfortable chair. As he took her hand to kiss it, she instead tugged him down, forcing his kiss to be placed on her cheek instead of her knuckles. “You are practically a brother to me -- to us, to André,” she said, smiling at him, her face rosy, “how silly it seems to be so formal, when you’re here almost every day! Please, do sit,” Lise said, releasing his hand and gesturing to the sofa next to her chair. Her grey eyes were bright, glittering in the candlelight. “I am sure André will be back very soon. Je suis certaine.” She stopped and regarded him for a moment, then leaned in as if she were sharing a great secret, inviting him to do the same. “Did you know, I have heard --” and she placed special emphasis on ‘heard,’ “-- you will be invited to Mademoiselle Scherer’s salon next week. How good it will be! If you are ever uncertain what to say there, just come to me and I will help you, you know.”