tell you?”
“But all he wants to talk about is Holstein, Maman.”
“Then talk about Holstein, stupid girl.”
More accusations followed. Her daughter was not walking with enough grace. She was neglecting her duties to her father, though what duties these were it was impossible to tell. Sophie stood, head bowed, her fingers fondling the small pendant around her neck.
The main door opened again, and Bairta came in, crying loudly. She was a little Kalmyk girl the Empress had given Princess Sophie as a welcoming gift, after hearing the child singing in the street. Her voice, the Empress declared, was like the purest of chimes. Bairta’s father had asked only for a good horse in exchange for his daughter.
Seeing her, Princess Johanna snapped, “Why can’t you keep this wretch in your own room, Sophie? She is giving me a headache with her constant wailing.”
Bairta scurried into a corner and made herself invisible.
Luckily, Princess Johanna got exhausted by her own tirade. Stretching her lips in a forced grin, she took a close look at herself in her daughter’s mirror, adjusting her hair and a beauty spot on her chin. For a moment she stood motionless, listening to something I could not hear. “Don’t tell me that I didn’t warn you,” she said to Sophie before leaving.
As soon as her mother was gone, Sophie wiped her eyes and shook her head like a wet dog. She made a few hesitant steps around the room, practiced curtsying in front of a mirror.
You could be her friend
, the Empress had told me.
An older friend she could trust
.
In the corner of the room, Bairta began to sob.
This is my chance
, I decided.
I slipped out of the service room and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” I heard. I entered.
Princess Sophie smiled at the sight of me, a smile of recognition I did not expect.
“You read to the Grand Duke, don’t you?” she asked me. “What is your name?”
“Varvara Nikolayevna.”
“Varvara Nikolayevna,” she repeated. On her lips, my Russian name seemed oddly harsh. “Has the Duke sent you?”
“I was just passing by, Your Highness,” I lied. Disappointment flickered across the Princess’s face but quickly vanished. “I thought I heard someone crying,” I added.
She pointed to Bairta. The poor child was squatting, her face hidden between her knees. “She cries all the time. I try to ask her what’s wrong, but she doesn’t understand me.”
Bairta made a sound that was half sigh, half sob, her shoulders hunching.
I knelt beside her.
“Why are you crying?” I asked in Russian.
Reluctantly, the weeping girl lifted her eyes. “I want to go to my Mama,” she sobbed.
There was little comfort in the silent look Sophie and I exchanged then. How do you tell a child that not even a princess can oppose the wishes of an empress?
“Tell her I’ll show her something if she stops crying,” the Princess said.
I did.
Bairta watched, curious but still teary, as the Princess puffed up her cheeks and narrowed her eyes. She growled, meowed, and hissed like angry cats readying for a fight. Then came the screech of the battle, so real that if I closed my own eyes I would think two of the Empress’s cats had crept into the room unobserved. Sophie’s face flushed with the effort, but she didn’t stop until the tears on Bairta’s face stopped flowing.
I still remember that first sweet warming of my heart, lingering like perfume.
“How did you learn to do it?” I asked in amazement.
When Sophie laughed, her whole face lit up. Her blue eyes brightened. She didn’t look like a little
Hausfrau
, I decided, and her chin was not that pointed.
“My father taught me,” she answered.
And then she added, “But I won’t tell you about him, for it will make me sad. And it would be pretty useless if I began to cry now, wouldn’t it?”
----
Professor Stehlin had been ordered to shorten the time the Grand Duke spent on his lessons. The two children, the Empress said, were to be given
“But all he wants to talk about is Holstein, Maman.”
“Then talk about Holstein, stupid girl.”
More accusations followed. Her daughter was not walking with enough grace. She was neglecting her duties to her father, though what duties these were it was impossible to tell. Sophie stood, head bowed, her fingers fondling the small pendant around her neck.
The main door opened again, and Bairta came in, crying loudly. She was a little Kalmyk girl the Empress had given Princess Sophie as a welcoming gift, after hearing the child singing in the street. Her voice, the Empress declared, was like the purest of chimes. Bairta’s father had asked only for a good horse in exchange for his daughter.
Seeing her, Princess Johanna snapped, “Why can’t you keep this wretch in your own room, Sophie? She is giving me a headache with her constant wailing.”
Bairta scurried into a corner and made herself invisible.
Luckily, Princess Johanna got exhausted by her own tirade. Stretching her lips in a forced grin, she took a close look at herself in her daughter’s mirror, adjusting her hair and a beauty spot on her chin. For a moment she stood motionless, listening to something I could not hear. “Don’t tell me that I didn’t warn you,” she said to Sophie before leaving.
As soon as her mother was gone, Sophie wiped her eyes and shook her head like a wet dog. She made a few hesitant steps around the room, practiced curtsying in front of a mirror.
You could be her friend
, the Empress had told me.
An older friend she could trust
.
In the corner of the room, Bairta began to sob.
This is my chance
, I decided.
I slipped out of the service room and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” I heard. I entered.
Princess Sophie smiled at the sight of me, a smile of recognition I did not expect.
“You read to the Grand Duke, don’t you?” she asked me. “What is your name?”
“Varvara Nikolayevna.”
“Varvara Nikolayevna,” she repeated. On her lips, my Russian name seemed oddly harsh. “Has the Duke sent you?”
“I was just passing by, Your Highness,” I lied. Disappointment flickered across the Princess’s face but quickly vanished. “I thought I heard someone crying,” I added.
She pointed to Bairta. The poor child was squatting, her face hidden between her knees. “She cries all the time. I try to ask her what’s wrong, but she doesn’t understand me.”
Bairta made a sound that was half sigh, half sob, her shoulders hunching.
I knelt beside her.
“Why are you crying?” I asked in Russian.
Reluctantly, the weeping girl lifted her eyes. “I want to go to my Mama,” she sobbed.
There was little comfort in the silent look Sophie and I exchanged then. How do you tell a child that not even a princess can oppose the wishes of an empress?
“Tell her I’ll show her something if she stops crying,” the Princess said.
I did.
Bairta watched, curious but still teary, as the Princess puffed up her cheeks and narrowed her eyes. She growled, meowed, and hissed like angry cats readying for a fight. Then came the screech of the battle, so real that if I closed my own eyes I would think two of the Empress’s cats had crept into the room unobserved. Sophie’s face flushed with the effort, but she didn’t stop until the tears on Bairta’s face stopped flowing.
I still remember that first sweet warming of my heart, lingering like perfume.
“How did you learn to do it?” I asked in amazement.
When Sophie laughed, her whole face lit up. Her blue eyes brightened. She didn’t look like a little
Hausfrau
, I decided, and her chin was not that pointed.
“My father taught me,” she answered.
And then she added, “But I won’t tell you about him, for it will make me sad. And it would be pretty useless if I began to cry now, wouldn’t it?”
----
Professor Stehlin had been ordered to shorten the time the Grand Duke spent on his lessons. The two children, the Empress said, were to be given
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