It was an exceptionally quiet morning, and Flora had so far spent it cleaning. Apart from Else Walbusch and Mr. Schierstiefel, no customers had come by. Ernestine was in the living room with Hannah and her embroidery, and both were keeping an eye on Alexander, who was sleeping soundly in his bassinet.
Flora pressed a coin into the palm of the boy’s hand. “Run back and tell them I am on my way.”
Then she trotted into the house to tell them that the princess had sent for her.
“Princess Stropolski? That could be a big order. Go. I’ll take care of everything here,” said Ernestine, while Hannah, at the mention of the princess’s name, grimaced, which Flora did not understand.
Maybe Konstantin will be there with her, she thought, filled with hope, as she hung the “We’ll Be Right Back” sign on the shop door.
“You are completely mad!” cried Flora half an hour later. “Kidnapping me in broad daylight for a jaunt in the snow . . . And then this!” She laughed and held up her champagne glass. What was she thinking, joining in willingly?
The clink of their glasses mixed with the tinkling of the tiny bells that hung on the sleigh and the horses’ harnesses.
Flora had barely emptied her glass when Konstantin refilled it for her. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my little subterfuge.” He winked mischievously at her over the rim of his glass.
“I’m going to have to think long and hard about that,” Flora replied with a giggle, and she sipped at her champagne. It tasted wonderful, and she was already a little dizzy from the first glass.
Although the chill winter air lay on her face like a film of ice, her cheeks were red and warm. But was that any surprise? There she was, in the middle of the day, sitting with a Bulgarian and drinking champagne in a horse-drawn sleigh hung with a hundred bells.
When she had seen Konstantin in front of the Europ?ischer Hof, her heart had skipped a beat. Where was the princess?
He had rented the sleigh for the entire day, but the princess did not feel like going out, Konstantin had told her. So he thought that Flora might like to go for a ride, and it would be a shame to shut the horses up in dim stables on such a beautiful winter’s day.
Flora had shifted from one foot to the other doubtfully. How was she supposed to explain to Friedrich later that she had gone for a sleigh ride with a strange man?
She had been on the verge of turning Konstantin down when a load of snow from a low branch slipped and fell directly on her head. Puffing and laughing, she had shaken it off and swept her wet hair out of her face. From downturned eyes, she had looked up at Konstantin. He seemed to be waiting so yearningly for her reply.
A sleigh ride. Why not, then? No one at home needed to find out about the little adventure, anyway, did they?
“You are the only person I know who could come up with an idea like this,” said Flora. “I’d like to know why you spoil me like this.”
“Why?” Konstantin replied. “Because you’re young, you’re beautiful. Life is beautiful, too, and you and I have been chosen to revel in it!”
Flora reddened. Young and beautiful—no one had ever said anything like that to her.
“You don’t know how happy you have made me by coming out with me now,” Konstantin went on. “You have, in point of fact, saved my life, because I would otherwise have died of boredom. Thank you for accompanying me.”
Flora gasped in surprise as he planted a kiss on her cheek. “Konstantin! How can you—” She broke off abruptly and pointed excitedly off to the right. “Look! Just there is where carpets of cowslips grow in March. And a little farther back you can find wonderful wild lilac.” The impetuous kiss was forgotten as Flora’s gaze wandered wistfully along the avenue. “If only spring were already here. I miss the colors and the scents, and I so want to go out and pick flowers again.” She swallowed a large mouthful of champagne, and for a moment she thought she could smell the springtime in her glass.
Konstantin exhaled, a slow, deep sigh. “You live in time with the turn of the seasons. You live so close to the natural world, and I admire how . . . immediately you experience everything. You are actually part of it all, one could say. I guess that is what they call home. It’s strange, but when I’m around you, I am reminded of what I myself have lost. I can’t feel any roots in me, not anymore. I can’t sense ‘home’ anywhere. The most I could tell you is when the opera season starts in a certain city, or if there’s a premiere at the theater, or when and where everyone is meeting for a hunt.”
Flora looked at him sideways. “What you call ‘home’ is nothing special. Can’t one also long for the unknown?” Just then, she ducked beneath low-hanging fir branches. At the same moment, one of the horses snapped at some of the fir sprigs in passing and munched on them happily as it trotted on. Konstantin and Flora both had to laugh.
“When I began to travel, I thought that the exotic was worth striving for, and more than anything else that having nowhere to call home meant having my freedom.” Konstantin swung his arms out wide. “I wanted to cast off the bonds of my old home and follow untrodden paths. But I have come to wonder, sometimes, if I am walking into a cul-de-sac.”
The bitter tone of his words surprised Flora. He usually seemed so sure of himself. His face was only inches from hers. She could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes, glittering in the pale sunlight. The urge to take him in her arms and cheer him up with a thousand tiny kisses was suddenly overwhelming.
“Don’t you carry your home in your heart?” she asked quietly. “And can’t a person put down new roots in a foreign land? Perhaps you should really start painting again.”
“There is nothing I’d like more. In your presence, I feel so inspired, as if your creativity were infectious. But then there’s Püppi. She’s getting stranger every day. And sicker, too. Day in, day out, everything revolves around the state of her health. What she can eat, what she can’t, when she can sleep, and when she can only rest. No one asks how I am. Baden-Baden, in the season, is an entertaining place, but now that winter is here, there are only a few of us in the hotels, and all the sitting around drives me mad.”
What kind of fool am I? Flora chided herself silently. How was he supposed to start painting again if the princess monopolized all his time?
Konstantin went on. “Forget my stupid remarks. Maybe I’m feeling so melancholy just now because coming out with you has made me so happy. Maybe we humans are doomed to yearn for the one thing we cannot have.” He looked her roguishly in the eye.
Flora laughed. “I’m sure I’ve heard that before, but I can’t remember from whom. Maybe you’re right.” At least Konstantin’s expression had brightened.
“You long for your meadow flowers, and I long for our Russian friends. I’ve been so bored lately that I’ve even started to miss old Popo, and Irina’s constant complaints about how terribly expensive life has become.” He shook his head. “Püppi writes letters back and forth with many of them, so I know that the Gagarins and Anna and perhaps Matriona and her sons will return at the start of the season. Then we’ll have a little more variety, at least, and it will do Püppi good, too.”
“They are really planning to come back? Even with the casino closed?” Flora asked, her voice trembling a little. That was more than she had dared hope for. She could hardly wait to tell Friedrich!
Konstantin grinned. “Who needs a casino to spin a ball? And as long as the ante’s right, one can always find someone for a hand of cards. Oh, look!” He laid one arm across her shoulders and pointed off to the right, where two deer had just appeared from a copse.
“Just like at home in the Swabian Mountains,” Flora whispered, and leaned into Konstantin’s arm.
Just before they reached the Lichtenthal nunnery, Konstantin asked the driver to stop. He jumped out of the sleigh and held out his hand to help Flora down.
“Shall we stretch our legs a little?”