Chapter 28
Tiffany pulled her cloak closer against the late afternoon chill. "Cold?" Sébastien asked.
She shook her head. "Walking helps."
In amiable silence, they strolled side by side through the smoky streets of Paris, each lost in their own thoughts. Tiffany was admiring the coziness of frosted shop windows and rich architecture. She wondered if there was any place more beautiful than Paris, a city so full of charm and romance. The men had talked about Provence. Would it take her breath away just as Paris did?
Sébastien was working out the best time to take Tiffany to Provence. It would be expensive, Provence was so far, he reasoned, oblivious to his smoky, damp surroundings. The best time would be in spring. He had a concert at the cathedral on Boxing Day which he had to stay for, and it was in spring that all the lavender in Provence would bloom. Tiffany adored lavender. He knew that from the night of the ball, that magical night on which fate had placed Tiffany in his hands.
Exuberant about the prospect of a trip, with Tiffany even, he turned to Tiffany, "How about going to Provence in spring, Mademoiselle? I know you shall like it there." And when Tiffany nodded with a sweet smile, his eyes sparkled and he whispered, "Let's not go home just yet. Let's go watch the sunset by the Seine."
He offered her his elbow and they made their way through the flow of people rushing home. Not for one second did it cross their mind that Tiffany might be gone in the spring.
Gorgeous was the only way to describe the sunset. Against the grey listless sky, the rays stretched from the far horizon, throwing translucent hues of sapphire blue and rose pink. As the sun settled lower and the light diminished, the city was bathed in a brilliant golden glow coupled with dim shadows that cast themselves onto ornate corners of buildings and streets on which Parisians hurried through.
Unlike most other middle-class Parisians, Sébastien's role as soloist in the orchestra granted him much time outside practice to himself. It was such a lifestyle that developed his keen sense of beauty and art. He visited countless art galleries and museums, most of them for countless times, but the sort of art that truly fueled his passion was art that was alive. Alive like the fading of the sun and the playful winking of the diamonds in the dark velvet sky, like the vibrant coloring of the leaves in autumn and the kaleidoscopic snowflakes twirling from the heavens in winter. These things he had the benefit of time to enjoy, and these things he grew to love.
When he used to sit by the banks of the Seine in comfortable solitude, he now had a girl—a woman—beside him, apparently appreciating such scenery and silence as much as he. It was strange how at ease he felt, without the solitude he once basked in. There was company now, but that, if anything, had enhanced the glamour of the sunset.
She, on the other hand, had little on her mind. The sunset captivated her, but even as it did so, she still stole glances of the man who lounged beside her, laid back on the bench, looking as if he had not a care in the world. An odd numbness and blankness of her mind dominated through the entire evening, shielding herself from something she suspected was far more chaotic that lied beneath. But she didn't worry. How could she? Life was perfect.
When the last strand of sunlight melted beneath the skyline, Sébastien rose and offered his hand to Tiffany. They made their way back down the street.
"What do you feel like doing tomorrow, Tiffany? You'd better tell me where you want to go before rehearsals for the Boxing Day concert start. You'll miss me then," he grinned boyishly.
Tiffany didn't correct him at all. Instead, she inquired softly, "Oh, when do rehearsals start?"
"Probably in a week, but I'll have to start my own intensive practice before that. So this weekend is for you, exclusively."
"You promise?" Tiffany asked trying to sound as light-hearted as possible.
"I promise," was his firm answer.