The streets were white. Outside little shops and cafés people gathered to try to absorb some of the heat streaming out from inside, while an accordion player were playing by the Seine not long from Saint-Michel and the smell of roasted chestnuts filled the air. The bakers and brasseries were all stuffed with delicious Christmas treats and wherever you turned your head you could find delicious food and busy people tasting, arguing and buying. The streets of Paris were busy as always and none so much as the little ones in the Latin Quarter. Among the many people shopping and eating on Rue Christine a man was walking briskly down the street, his hands clutched around his collar which he had pulled up under his chin, his face almost completely hidden beneath a scarf and a large fur hat. He wasn't stopping to look at the shop windows, nor was he noticing the sound of children singing Christmas carols in the school near by or the sweet smell of baked goods from the brasserie. No this man was heading somewhere specific and with great pace, he had somewhere he obviously needed to be, and needed to be soon. December was not always this cruel on Paris but this year it seemed Jack Frost had truly held his hand over the city. That, or Igor Kuragin had brought the Russian winter with him when he arrived here with his mistress two weeks ago.
The receptionist in the hotel lobby was a small almost hunched backed man who spoke nothing but french. He didn't smile as Igor entered the room with a small envelope in his hand. In fact, he probably never smiled, he didn't seem to Igor to be a particularly happy or friendly person. He seemed absolutely resentful of the world around him and Igor couldn't blame him. The hotel wasn't the most glorious place to be in. It was a very old building. The walls creaked under the strong winter wind, the rooms were all dark and quite different from what Igor was used to and indeed from what he was hoping he would find. But until he was able to cash in the bonds he had brought with him from Russia, he had only the currency with him, which he was able to get from some of the possessions he had brought from the palace, and at least that would be able to hold out for quite a while. He handed the little man the envelope and he opened it and looked inside "Est tout l'argent ici?" He asked sceptically and Igor nodded, his french still being very limited. Then he simply grunted and pointed Igor towards the narrow staircase. "Merci" he answered and started the climb.
In a small moderate french hotel room, a young woman was sitting by the window. Her silhouette was tall and slender and her posture was as proud and controlled as the woman it belonged to. Everything about her oozed aristocracy and even if she was anxious as she looked down on the busy street, no one would have guessed it from her appearance. She wore a dark blue dress, something otherwise quite right for an afternoon in her normal surroundings, but in this case seemed odd and out of place in the small middle class hotel room. Her hair was a dusty shade of flame red and pinned up high with a bright blue sapphire hair clip. Her hands were placed gracefully in her lap and her slender fingers were playing frantically with the new silver ring on her finger. She hadn't yet grown used to this new piece of jewellery and couldn't let it alone as she sat there in her own thoughts. She was waiting. He had told her to read a book or go for a walk while he was out and she had indeed done so the first couple of days, but now they had been her for two weeks and she had already seen more of Paris, than what was suitable for a woman on her own. She couldn't read either. She knew french of course, but her mind couldn't focus. It seemed to be everywhere else than in this room. This room. She looked around it. It was only slightly bigger than her bedroom at Down… She stopped herself. She wasn't allowed to think about it. It was a rule she had made for herself and for Igor - He wasn't allowed to think it or speak of it either. Ever. No the room was not big. It had a bed of course, a small sitting area in the other end, a sink, a closest, a desk, an old chest and an armchair next to the bed. It was hardly up to the standard she was used to, but it was cheap and clean and warm compared to the freezing winter outside. Her eyes turned to the street outside again. She sighed. She had waited for three hours now, and she was beginning to get scared. Of what, she wasn't quite sure of, but she did know that being left alone for too long in these surroundings didn't do her mind any good.
Her head turned at the speed of lightning when he came in, she sprang to her feet and he met her half way in a hungry and desperate embrace. She kissed him hard and demanding and he responded in kind. For a moment they stood like that. Him still in his overcoat and her on her toes to reach him properly. After a while they relaxed in each other's arms and he pulled back to look at her. "At last!" she exclaimed and kissed him again, softer this time. He smiled and finally stepped back to remove his hat and coat. She brushed the snow off her dress, which he has brought in with him and then took his hand and sat him down next to her at the foot of the bed. "So? What did they say?" He stroke her cheek and then looked down at her hands, one of which were so beautifully graced with the silver ring. Then he smiled warmly at her and spoke; "They won't cash them now..". Her smile froze and she withdrew her face from his hands "What do you mean, they wont cash them?" He stood up and lighted a cigarette "I mean what I am saying. They won't cash the bonds. They say they aren't valid" he inhaled slowly before he continued "But don't worry Darling, I know they ARE valid and I will work this out. I promise you!" he tried to give her a reassuring smile, but her frantic fumbling with her ring had returned "Well yes! You must work it out! We only have the money from the palace artefacts now and they will run out one day!". He put out his cigarette and sat down beside her again. He took her nervous hands in his own now and looked into her big blue eyes that he so loved. "My Love! I promise. Promise you that I will work it out. You will not want for anything, I will take care of you till the day I die, do you understand?". Tears were brimming in her eyes, yet she wouldn't let them fall, so she smiled. She smiled at this man, who despite his lack of practicality and his frequent passionate, and she supposed Russian, outbursts she had come to love with such a powerful force that it had left her quite heady. He touched her ring and brought it to his lips. "Marry me, Violet!" he whispered. "I already said I would" she laughed but his face was serious. "I love you so much" he said and drew her in for a kiss. With tenderness she touched the side of his face as his lips found her jaw. His hands were traveling down her sides and she drew a frantic breath at the thought of what was to come. As he pushed her back on the bed, she thought they were going to be alright. If nothing else, Igor was a man of action and she thoroughly believed him when he said he would take care of her. But they would need the money soon, she thought or rather, she didn't think, she only felt his hands on her legs and his kisses on her neck, and then she gave in.
The streets of Paris were white. People were gathering in shops and cafés, some to buy and others just to keep warm. The man with the accordion had to stop now and then and rub his hands together and his breath looked like smoke when he thanked the generous bypassing people. Paris was cold and busy and full of Christmas, but the two people inside the little middle class hotel room on Rue Christine took no notice of this. They saw and felt only each other. Neither knew of the hardships ahead of them or of the heartaches they had coursed when they had left St. Petersburg. One day reality would of course kick in. But not today. Not in this moment.
