rather curious look. “It is only a year, Leon, and some widows, you know, do not forget so quickly.” She set her fingers beneath Natalia’s elbow, and gently propelled her forward. “Come, cherie . Leon is right about one thing. You should go to bed.”
Completely docile once again, Natalia allowed herself to be led towards the door, and Kathy automatically started to follow her. But then she felt the pressure of a detaining hand on her own arm, and Leonid was looking down at her.
“You are not obliged to go to bed also. The Princess’s maid will attend to her.”
Kathy hesitated. “But surely ... ”
At the door Natalia turned to face them, and she sent Kathy one of her sweet, abstracted smiles. “No, no, Kathy, you will stay here. Please . You are not to be dull because of me. I will see you in the morning, cheri .”
“But, madame ... ”
Signora Albinhieri interrupted her, and her voice was decisive. “It is quite all right. I myself will accompany the Princess. You have a right, Miss Grant, to an occasional undisturbed evening. It is not so, Leon?”
“Certainly it is so.”
The door closed behind the two women, and for several seconds there was complete silence in the salon. Then Leonid spoke.
“I would prefer it if you sat down, Katherine. Are you so alarmed because you have been left alone with me? You are—what is the expression—poised for flight?”
“I—no, of course not.” Blushing vividly, she sank into a deep chair, and then glanced up at the Prince. He was leaning against the mantelpiece, staring into the colourful depths of the pleasant Canaletto canal scene that hung above it, and something in his face startled Kathy. He looked drawn, and his mouth drooped wearily, and there was a quality almost of brooding sadness in the dark, velvety eyes that she had never seen in them before. She had wondered so much what he really felt about what had happened in his own country ... whether he was distressed or perhaps, in a sense, relieved ... whether it hurt him very much that he was now an exile and a refugee. Now she felt that she knew the answers, and she was confused, because she had no right to know. The feelings that showed in his face now were too personal ... but she could not take her eyes away from his face, and she felt such an agony of sympathy for him that tears started to her eyes, and pricked behind the lids.
And then he looked at her, and, afraid that her own feelings must have shown clearly in her face, she glanced hastily away.
“Katherine, are you fond of music?”
The question took her completely by surprise, but she was able to answer swiftly and naturally: “Why, yes, I love it.”
“Do you play the piano?”
“Only a little. I learnt while I was at school, but I haven’t practised for ages.”
“That is a pity. My godmother has a wonderful piano. I had hoped that you would play to me.”
She lifted startled eyes to his face. “Oh, I—I’m afraid I couldn’t ... I mean, I was never very good ...”
“Probably you are very good, but would you not like at least to see the piano? My godmother assures me that it was once used by Rossini.”
She stood up, grateful for the diversion. “Yes, of course I’d love to see it.”
He led the way to the door, then stood aside for her to pass through it ahead of him. They walked along a corridor, and crossed the main entrance hall. Then he pushed open another door, and they were in a handsome room a little shorter than the library. The floor here was of polished wood, scattered with vividly coloured rugs, and most of the furniture was beautiful and rather fragile, and looked as if it might belong to the period of Louis Quinze. And in one comer there was a beautiful ebony piano.
Leonid walked across to it and opened it up, revealing a keyboard only slightly yellowed with age.
“Is it not beautiful?” His long, sensitive fingers caressed the dark wood. “Would you not like to play on such a
Completely docile once again, Natalia allowed herself to be led towards the door, and Kathy automatically started to follow her. But then she felt the pressure of a detaining hand on her own arm, and Leonid was looking down at her.
“You are not obliged to go to bed also. The Princess’s maid will attend to her.”
Kathy hesitated. “But surely ... ”
At the door Natalia turned to face them, and she sent Kathy one of her sweet, abstracted smiles. “No, no, Kathy, you will stay here. Please . You are not to be dull because of me. I will see you in the morning, cheri .”
“But, madame ... ”
Signora Albinhieri interrupted her, and her voice was decisive. “It is quite all right. I myself will accompany the Princess. You have a right, Miss Grant, to an occasional undisturbed evening. It is not so, Leon?”
“Certainly it is so.”
The door closed behind the two women, and for several seconds there was complete silence in the salon. Then Leonid spoke.
“I would prefer it if you sat down, Katherine. Are you so alarmed because you have been left alone with me? You are—what is the expression—poised for flight?”
“I—no, of course not.” Blushing vividly, she sank into a deep chair, and then glanced up at the Prince. He was leaning against the mantelpiece, staring into the colourful depths of the pleasant Canaletto canal scene that hung above it, and something in his face startled Kathy. He looked drawn, and his mouth drooped wearily, and there was a quality almost of brooding sadness in the dark, velvety eyes that she had never seen in them before. She had wondered so much what he really felt about what had happened in his own country ... whether he was distressed or perhaps, in a sense, relieved ... whether it hurt him very much that he was now an exile and a refugee. Now she felt that she knew the answers, and she was confused, because she had no right to know. The feelings that showed in his face now were too personal ... but she could not take her eyes away from his face, and she felt such an agony of sympathy for him that tears started to her eyes, and pricked behind the lids.
And then he looked at her, and, afraid that her own feelings must have shown clearly in her face, she glanced hastily away.
“Katherine, are you fond of music?”
The question took her completely by surprise, but she was able to answer swiftly and naturally: “Why, yes, I love it.”
“Do you play the piano?”
“Only a little. I learnt while I was at school, but I haven’t practised for ages.”
“That is a pity. My godmother has a wonderful piano. I had hoped that you would play to me.”
She lifted startled eyes to his face. “Oh, I—I’m afraid I couldn’t ... I mean, I was never very good ...”
“Probably you are very good, but would you not like at least to see the piano? My godmother assures me that it was once used by Rossini.”
She stood up, grateful for the diversion. “Yes, of course I’d love to see it.”
He led the way to the door, then stood aside for her to pass through it ahead of him. They walked along a corridor, and crossed the main entrance hall. Then he pushed open another door, and they were in a handsome room a little shorter than the library. The floor here was of polished wood, scattered with vividly coloured rugs, and most of the furniture was beautiful and rather fragile, and looked as if it might belong to the period of Louis Quinze. And in one comer there was a beautiful ebony piano.
Leonid walked across to it and opened it up, revealing a keyboard only slightly yellowed with age.
“Is it not beautiful?” His long, sensitive fingers caressed the dark wood. “Would you not like to play on such a
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