Chapter 350: Alexei's Nemesis

Chapter 350: Alexei's Nemesis

"Oh, fine." Alexandra pouted and corrected herself, "Count Bobrinsky, I want to 'fly' faster."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Alexei replied with a shrug. "They said this is already the maximum speed. But they're installing a new high-pressure steam engine next month—if I got the name right—so it should go faster then."

The little girl sighed in disappointment. "Ah, that's so long to wait... But at least we'll be staying in Paris for a while."

As she spoke, a bell rang, and the carousel gradually came to a stop.

The little girl hopped off the wooden horse, her big eyes scanning the area until they settled on the winding water course of the log flume ride in the distance. "I want to go on that! I remember the last time we were in Paris, it wasn't there."

Alexei glanced up at the scorching sun, ignored the handkerchief a servant offered him, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He grimaced and said, "It's so hot today! Maybe we can come back on a cloudy day. After all, you said we'll be here for quite a while."

"No way," Alexandra replied, petting the Mickey doll by her side. She grabbed her uncle's hand and began pulling him toward the log flume ride. "You just bought an 'unlimited play' ticket. We can't let it go to waste."

The 30-livre unlimited play ticket allowed access to all the attractions in the amusement park until nightfall.

"If it weren't for that cursed winter," Alexei muttered, reluctantly allowing himself to be dragged along by the seven-year-old, "we could have arrived in Paris at the start of summer when the weather wasn't so dreadful."

In reality, Empress Catherine II had ordered him to depart with her granddaughter at the end of last year. But shortly after leaving St. Petersburg, they encountered a rare and brutal cold snap, with temperatures plunging to minus 30 degrees, freezing breath into ice—Europe, including France, was experiencing an unusually harsh winter. They had no choice but to return to the Winter Palace.

As everyone knows, after a Russian winter, spring isn't ideal for travel either. The melting snow turns the roads into muddy swamps. Whether man or horse, each step forward requires three pulls to free feet or hooves from the clinging mud.

It wasn't until early summer that they could finally set off for Paris.

Alexandra glanced at her uncle and gave a sweet smile. "If you hadn't spent over a month 'discussing' poetry with Mrs. Sielankiewicz in Kremenets, or 'staying' with Miss Isabella in Prague for more than 40 days, we could have arrived here in the cool early summer."

She flashed a toothy grin and added, "If I hadn't kept reminding you about coming to the amusement park, you might still be with Miss Isabella..."

"Ah, ahem—" Alexei quickly interrupted his niece with a cough, nervously glancing around. Seeing that no one had overheard her, he sighed in relief. Alexandra had spoken in French, and if anyone had heard, he'd likely be the talk of Paris's high society the next day.

He hurriedly got Alexandra onto the log flume boat, smiling obsequiously. "You can stay as long as you like. Well, maybe it's not so hot after all..."

Two hours later, after Alexandra had tried every attraction in the park twice, she finally decided it was time to return home.

As they climbed into the carriage waiting outside the gate, she gazed longingly at the amusement park's attractions and sighed, "I heard these were all designed by the French Prince. I can't imagine how he got so clever."

Exhausted from the heat, Alexei grumbled, "He's a prince; it's normal for him to be smarter than ordinary people..."

The little girl looked at him thoughtfully. "Uncle Alexei, speaking of which, you're also a prince. So you could definitely help me build an 'Eden Amusement Park' in St. Petersburg, right? I'd be so grateful."

"Ugh, ahem, ahem..." Alexei almost choked on her words, but he had grown accustomed to her requests on this journey. Quickly changing the subject, he said, "Tomorrow is Mr. Greuze's first lesson. Shouldn't you prepare in advance?"

At the mention of anything related to painting, Alexandra's expression turned serious. "You're right; I should check my paints, especially since they were brought all the way from Vienna. And I should also pick out tomorrow's clothes..."

She was a great admirer of Mr. Greuze's work, and one of her main goals in coming to Paris was to study painting under him. Painting was her favorite subject.

The next day.

Jean-Baptiste Greuze, the famous French painter known for his melancholic style and creator of works such as The Guitarist, was giving a lesson at his villa in the Louvre district.

Several elegantly dressed noble girls sat primly in chairs before Greuze, listening as he lectured on portrait composition techniques.

But the young ladies kept sneaking curious and slightly disdainful glances at the youngest girl sitting in the center of the group.

Earlier, during a brief introduction, they had learned that this girl was Alexandra Pavlovna, a Grand Duchess from Russia and, apparently, the eldest daughter of the Russian heir.

However, to them, Russians were just a bunch of semi-civilized Tatars desperately trying to imitate France but never quite getting it right.

In short, they saw her as a country bumpkin.

So even though she was a Grand Duchess, they didn't think much of her. In fact, they found it incomprehensible that a country bumpkin would be allowed to attend the esteemed Mr. Greuze's class.

After finishing the theory portion of the lesson and demonstrating some techniques on the canvas, Greuze called over his maid to serve as a model and instructed his students to apply what they had just learned by painting her portrait.

The students moved to the studio. Alexandra set up her easel, took out the precious paints she had brought from Vienna, and, with a focused expression, began to paint.

In the afternoon, Greuze returned to the studio. As his gaze passed over the works of his students, disappointment clouded his face.

Although these girls came from noble families and paid high tuition fees, their artistic talent was mediocre at best. If it weren't for the need to supplement his income, he wouldn't have wasted his valuable time on them.

Then he noticed the work of the young girl who had just joined the class that day. He stopped in his tracks, surprised—the technique was indeed unrefined, and her basic sketching skills were still lacking, but she had an impressive grasp of the techniques he had just taught, as if she had practiced them many times before.

What astonished him even more was the unique vitality in her painting. It was as if the colors she applied to the canvas pulsed with a beating heart.

(End of Chapter)

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