"Homes reach the stars, the sky's below,
The land in smoke to it is near.
Inside the big and happy Paris
Remains the secretive despair.

The evening boulevards are noisy,
Gone are the sundown's final rays,
And there are couples everywhere
Trembling of lips, daring of eyes" .

Tsvetaeva, June 1909 Paris.

I waited at the Gare du Nord pier, in my hands a bouquet of daffodils. While waiting for the train, I recalled years of correspondence with Anne, the subjects of the letters were flooded with Ingelside and Avonlea affiliations, as well as her writing, poetry, and prose, literary reflections, glowing live epistles a happy and harmonious life.

Anne had always surprised me with her vison of openness and nobility, the sense that there was so much in life to be glad of, even in the little things. Gilbert was famous for his quick deductions and arguments, and sense of fun, medical professional or not. He had a deep friendship with the family of Reverend Jo Blake in Kingsport.

Anne and Gilbert's children, on the other hand six of them, redhaired and adventurous Jem, the eldest, Walter of the dark hair had mind full with poetic ambitions in the style of golden rainbows, and chivalrous sensibilities, of Tennyson, Coleridge, and Shelley. The twins, sleek and dreamy Nan, and Di, redhaired and joyful, brown haired, and dependable Shirley and the youngest, and a third girl Rilla, pretty, and pampered. They were by all accounts triving and blooming and taking the local school and soon Queens Academy, by strom, running around in idyllic village of Glen, and calm serenity of Avonlea during holidays, with Diana´s children.

Anne had written that the Presbytery Elders had finally after a lot of debate chosen a new Reverend to helm the church. Mr John Knox Meredith did have four children with him, but no wife, a widow it seemed, but of course as Gilbert and her in Europe there was just no way that they could be back in time to greet the Reverend, but Anne was sure that Cornelia Bryant and Susan Baker had everything under control, if not amicibly in the Glen.

The Fords were in Japan. Owen Ford was planning and writing his latest book there, in under authentic conditions. The upcoming novel will probably be magical, harmonious and subtle, full of secrets of nature, and exoticism. Their two children, dark haired, and handsome Kenneth and Persis, mischievous and golden who thrive and enjoy themselves by Anne´s account, as do fair, golden haired, and stately mysterious Leslie, a friend of Anne's heart.

The clock showed the time of the trains arrival, and I soon noticed three people walking up to me, dodging other passengers, with luggage, trunks, and train fumes.

Anne hadn't changed, she was still tall, slender red-haired, dryad of a woman with royal posture, brilliant large greenish-gray eyes and sensitive translucent skin. She was wearing a flowing greenish dress with a high valence lace collar and a really stylish hat with a narrow dark red feather and an emerald green velvet ribbon that flared over her shoulders. Gilbert stepped alongside Anne, in a dark stylish jacket, his dark hair peeked out under tilted hat, in a riot of brown curls. Gilbert's brown eyes twinkled at passers-bys full of fun and excitement, for all the people and new experiences ahead. Next to them marched tall striking dark-haired, hatless woman dressed in a granite red travelling dress. Her pale eyes of amber sparkled a challenge to the world, the woman's skin was cream pale and her hands slender, long narrow fingers in red gloves.

Well I thought to myself, she must be Katherine Brooke then.

Anne looked at me and said with a silvery tinkling laugh:

" Oh little Elizabeth, you are still a fairy, even though you have left your childhood behind, and you have already graduated from school and are moving forward in life, towards new opportunities and adventures, I am sure. This visit is becoming golden, I feel it in the air, it sparkles. It is wonderful that you wrote to us and we are now here, before we return to the red shores of our Island," Anne exclaimed in delight. She then indicated to her side at Katherine.

" Dearest Katherine here is heading somewhere, the plans are still a little open. Apparently there are a few of her acquaintances in Paris at the moment. Dear, thank you for those flowers. The daffodils are some of my flowers, they are such good listeners, they whisper their own secrets to each other when we are not present. It feels like they are a piece of Ingelside here in the heart of the metropolis."

The sweeping view was of Paris at its best. A vibrant, glowingly beautiful metropolis whose architecture touches all the senses. "Oh Gilbert, look at that,"Anne exclaimed, as we had just passed Notre Dame and one large rose window sparkled in gem-colored rays. Seine flowed gleaming, promenades were filled with laughing children, with nannies, or grandmothers. Newspapers were sold at almost every corner, with wim, Eiffel dominating skyline.

We arrived at their hotel. Gilbert had earlier declined, firmly the offer of my Father's, for as he explained: " We Blythe´s we pay our own expenses and do not take alms however generous of Mr Pierce Greyson or his associates are he had announced."

When I heard Gilbert's response, I smiled, for I had tried to say to Father, that the offer would surely be rejected. The atmosphere of the hotel was calm and elegant. The air in the lobby smelled subtly of lemon and furniture wax and a hint of cognac and portwine. A group of armchairs and a dark red carpet cut through the stone floor. I noticed that both Anne and Gilbert spoke french fluently because, as Canadians, bilingualism was the norm, in certain provinces there, though there was a charming martime Acadian note in their speech that differed naturally from the local parisian accent. Katherine Brooke´s voice was dark, harmoniously melodic. The timbre and tone was delectable, it could be likened to melted caramel.

We went to a nearby local restaurant to eat, the candles sparkled, crystal and polished silver gleamed. The food was, rich and tasty, traditional French cuisine. As the waiter handed over the wine list to Gilbert, he looked at Anne, and said:

" Well, Anne-girl, we're not home yet, so wine, or champange is allowed, as here are no prohibition laws in effect."So we all ordered some champange and toasted to friendships, love and new beginnings. Anne wanted to enjoy the atmosphere of Paris and see the Arc de Triomphe and the Place de Concorde, the Eiffel tower, Louvre naturally was on the menu, Gilbert had agreed to meet few colleagues of medical persuasion, and to seek some books that were not available in Canada, also maybe to get his hands on some of the latest medical equipments, and then to visit in the Academie Nationale de Medecine, at 16 Rue Bonaparte, which had been established in that particular address only since 1902.

Katherine didn't talk anything about her plans at all. She responded calmly to Anne's inquiries, that maybe she will walk in the direction of Montmartre or visit Cimetière du Père-Lachaise. The cemetery park is truly unique and emotional I pointed out to her and Anne, who looked at me with bright attentive eyes.

Katherine looked at me fleetingly, strickingly, and replied in a smooth ironic tone:

" So you are Anne's little hidden fairy, you truly do look the part at least, she saved you for better life. As well, as she did it to myself, too, in the annals of Summerside. Fortunately, those years are over and done. No more teaching students who are not interested in Latin, geography or spelling, not to mention arithmetic. I may sometimes take a few private students, classical music recitals and so on, but quite seldom I do not have the time usually. It is nice to be in Paris again, the scents, the people and the light, busy boulevards, parks and monuments. Poitou is beautiful area with middle-age fortresses, of Akvitanian age and before, deep oak forests, wild patches of strawberries, when in season, walnut trees, ferns, and different local herbs, and a magical swamp area, full of marsh vegetation and secret waterways. From the pulse of travel it is nice to retreat there. And my rental apartment is beautiful and well located."

I was utterly enchanted by what Katherine's words painted, and a stinging longing struck me suddenly, the marshes seemed unforgettable. I decided that someday I would experience them as I had not traveled in that area of France before.

From the restaurant there was a short walk to the hotel, the streets were full of happy people, the gas lights glowed in the dark evening, the lovers walked hand in hand under rows of elm trees. We agreed to meet again in a couple of days time. Anne and Gilbert climbed hand in hand into their room.

Left alone Katherine and I nodded to each other little reservedly, like two cats in the same territory. We did not get the address of that place, where she was staying, it had remained a secret, even with all of Anne gentle prying had no luck. I did ponder that Katherine has many possible places to rest her head tonight, weather with friends or in a hotel somewhere nearby.

The illuminated boulevards of Paris glittered, like many stars. I hummed the gently sweeping aria of Gilda´s famous `Caro nome` from Rigoletto, by Verdi as I solemnly promised myself to run towards next bend of the road, that was calling to me, and not held back anymore.

At home, all possible surfaces of my desk were full of various admission forms, in different languages, and copies of Nathalie´s correspondence, her artistic friends giving me a multitude of advice that boiled down to one simple question, trust your intuition. I felt strongly that there were two options before me, either Italy, there was a lot of places there, or Russia.

Maybe if I'll close my eyes and poke both with a hat pin, it would produce some kind of result. It was possible also that I did not get in at all, even if I did apply and with a full backing of my earlier education of Parisien lycees, but I have to trust faith in this matter. I whispered a silent prayer to heavens that all would be well..

AN:

My heartfelt thanks to everyone, readers, reviewers, and others. I am confused, and happy with the attention given to this little effort of a story, that opera music, and purple-lyrical style interests, this continued journey of Little Elizabeth.