A/N: Because it's been so long since I posted the last chapter, I'm including the last part of chapter 15 to help ease you into chapter 16. I'm hoping to get as much written during this Christmas break as I can, but no promises. The story should move along fairly quickly now. Thanks for reading and Merry Christmas!

On the fourth day, we decided it would be best to give Ginny a prolonged rest and risked staying the night at a small inn. It took our money down to a pittance. After getting Helen settled down I asked at the desk if there was anything local that I could do to earn some extra money, but the young woman assured me that I would find nothing.

On my way back up, I stopped on the stairs, just to the left of the desk, but invisible to the girl, to consider our position. We had enough money left to buy food for maybe two more days, but then I would have to find something to make us more money. As I sat with my head in my hands, I couldn't help but overhear as the girl I had just spoken to called back to another person to come talk to her.

Another female voice soon answered and they began conversing in excited tones. "I think that woman is staying here tonight," said the girl. The other voice asked for clarification, which the young woman was all too happy to give. "The woman that that guy came in here yesterday to ask about, I think she's checked in here. She just asked me what she could do to earn some money."

"What should we do?"

"He said he was coming back tonight. Do you think we should tell him?"

"Did he say what he wanted with her?"

"Just that it was very important that he finds her."

"I say, hold out until he offers you some kind of reward, and then tell him where to find her."

I listened with horror, unable to say or do anything. These women were talking about selling me out to make some money as though my life mattered nothing to them. When the other woman finally retreated back to wherever she came from and the girl at the desk began humming absently, I mustered the motivation to creep up the stairs, trying to not make a sound. I had to get Helen and get out of there as soon as possible.

Chapter Sixteen

I tiptoed up the stairs as quietly as possible. When I made it back to the room, Helen was already sound asleep. I considered waking her up and climbing out the window, but she looked so exhausted. There was a soft smile on her face that I could not bear to disrupt. According to the girl at the desk, she would not tell whoever had been asking about her of her presence there unless offered some financial reward. That might buy them some time. Ester must have hired someone to find us, or the police were not announcing themselves as such any longer. Either way, I didn't want anyone knowing who we were.

Crawling into bed next to Helen, I wrapped my arms around her and promised myself that we would be long gone before anyone discovered us there.

It was dark when I opened my eyes again. We had slept in far longer than I had meant to allow ourselves. I roused Helen and briefly told her why we needed to hurry. Like a pair of expert thieves, we were ready to go in a matter of a few minutes.

While Helen went to get Ginny ready, I made a point to stop by the front desk and offhandedly mention that we would be traveling back towards Paris. If they believed that, it might throw whoever was on our trail off enough to let us sneak into Italy. Once there, I could get a job as a seamstress or something that did not require much communication with people until I could learn enough Italian to function in society.

The girl at the front desk's eyes lit up with the information and as I turned to walk out the door, she scampered off. No doubt to tell her friend what she had learned. I grabbed two apples out of the basket sitting on the front desk before I left. Helen was waiting for me with everything already ready.

Not sure if the ladies inside were watching us or not, I made it a point to head back in the direction we had come from before switching back a few streets over and making our way out of the town. We lit the kept the lanterns dark for as long as we could, trying to preserve our limited oil supply and wanting to remain hidden in the dark, but soon I could see nothing and we were forced to shed some light on our path.

Past the next town, where we did not stop, there were several wooden signs, fashioned into arrows of sorts that pointed off in several directions based on what was written upon them. I searched until I saw one that sounded vaguely familiar. I was fairly certain that Aosta, the third name down, lay on the other side of the border. From there, maybe we could travel further East to Milan or Verona, or more south towards Rome. I headed in the direction of Aosta, praying I was right and our safety lay only a few more days away.

Ginny seemed to be in good spirits after the rest, so we kept going until dawn began to break across the sky and Helen stirred awake. We each ate our apples and enjoyed the scenery. The day at the inn had put us in a relaxed mood and distracted from the mundane experience of travelling.

The next few days we made much progress, passing more and more towns were Italian was spoken more than French. We spent the last of our money on bread and we were forced to stop in a town called Frienta. It was neither a small nor a large town. I hoped it would be just big enough that our presence would go mostly unnoticed, but small enough that whoever Ester had hired to track us wouldn't bother to stop at.

I stopped at several inns, asking about work in exchange for a room. The owner of a small bed and breakfast finally took pity on me and agreed to let me cook and clean for free rent. When I told Helen, she asked that I speak to the owner, an older man by the name of Mr. Vincencio, and ask him if she could work for a small amount of money. After assuring Mr. Vincencio of her capability, he finally agreed, but admitted that her pay would be minimal. Business had been slow since the war.

There was a small barn that we could keep Ginny in on the condition that if a guest arrived and needed the space, Ginny would be tied up outside. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than we had been doing.

After a few days of working and staying at the inn, the anxiety began to dissipate. Mr. Vincencio seemed like a genuinely nice man. He was short and thin, with a grey hair and a small, neatly trimmed moustache. He had said that it was always his wife's dream to own their own little bed and breakfast, but she had died only a year after it had opened from childbirth. He had kept the place in memory of her and their child who had also died. He had been alone for the last 20 years, with only the occupants of the place as company.

One morning, Mr. Vincencio asked me if I could run some errands, but when I confessed that I spoke no Italian, he laughed merrily and shook his head.

"Fine, fine. You stay here and watch the counter. I'll give you list of things to say in Italian if they speak no French, okay? You can read, no?"

I told him that I had been well tutored and after reading through the list of phrases, he seemed pleasantly surprised by my pronunciation. Being in the opera had helped more than I had thought and I picked up on the words with fair ease.

I taught Helen all the words in Italian that I learned and, though she still remained silent around others, we sometimes practiced it together at night. With Helen's small pay that she insisted we use to get to Italy, it was taking us a while to save enough money. We had a long discussion about our situation, weighing our options, and finally decided that we would stay with Mr. Vincencio until we caught wind of being tracked again. By then, we hoped to have enough money to not only get safely into Italy, but maybe even have a little left over so start a life with.

We grew comfortable in our arrangement and Mr. Vincencio began to place me in charge of more and more things until I was running the desk and kitchen single-handedly and Helen was in sole charge of the cleanliness of the establishment.

Christmas was celebrated a month later with a small gift exchange between the three of us. Mr. Vincencio had given both Helen and I a little extra money for the holiday. I spent mine on a small necklace for Helen and both Helen and I pooled our little money to buy a new picture frame for Mr. Vincencio to replace the broken one he kept the picture of his late wife in. Helen bought me a pair of ladies gloves and Mr. Vincencio bought Helen and I each a book. For Helen it was a story book filled with Fairy Tales and for me it was a book on learning to speak Italian. I accepted it with an amused smile.

Days rolled slowly into each other as time went on, the year changed into the next and soon the coldness began to dissipate ever so slowly. The snow did not melt away from the ground, but it stopped snowing every day and the sun no longer constantly hid behind a gray sky.

I studied my Italian with fervor, practicing it with Helen and Mr. Vincencio until he decided that it would be best if we threw away the use of French at all and communicate solely in Italian. It doubled my ability to speak it, and though I often stumbled through long words or phrases, Mr. Vincencio waited patiently for me to complete my thoughts, as did the few guests that came through. I found most everyone to be very patient with me and it greatly increased my comfort, though not enough as yet to make friends of the acquaintances that I had come to know from the town.

One day, as January neared its end, a man came to the bed and breakfast. I would have thought his visit just the same as any other man's, except that he looked at me in such a peculiar way. I studied his face as best I could without appearing rude. I did not recognize him. I was sure that I would have remembered his piercing blue eyes and blonde hair. I greeted him in Italian and he faltered through a response in the same. Finally, with a sheepish smile, he asked if I spoke French. I easily fell back into the language and we conversed easily after that.

I showed him to his room at the top of the stairs on the second floor. I informed him of when breakfast would be and asked if there was anything special that he would like to have.

"You'll think I'm foolish," he said. "But I noticed you don't wear a wedding ring. If you're not married, I would like to take you to dinner tonight."

"I meant if there was anything special you would like for breakfast," I said, blushing violently.

"Yes. I know. But frankly, I could eat horse oats and be happy tomorrow if it means that I can eat with you tonight."

"I don't think that would be a good idea," I confessed. I had never thought about having a man ask to spend time with me. I was far from the young ballerina who had been given roses by adoring young men. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I felt that I had aged decades rather than years. I had never found myself beautiful, but never more had I thought my appearance so plain and unattractive.

"Please?" he asked, his big blue eyes pleading like a puppy begging.

"I have a daughter I have to think about. I should be here with her."

"You have a daughter?" My heart sank a little as I realized that I would probably spend the rest of my life receiving responses such as that.

"How old is she?" he asked, seemingly intrigued, though not accusing.

"She's almost nine."

"Quite old enough to stay here for an hour. I'm certain you deserve some time of your own. It must be such work to take care of a child all on your own."

"No, actually, she's no work at all. She practically raises herself." I realized the trap I had fallen into just a second too late. His smile was dazzling as he took my hand and pressed his lips to it.

"Then you are out of excuses to refuse to me. Tonight at six, I'll meet you at the front desk." There was no question this time and he was right. I was out of excuses. I nodded my head and turned away, embarrassed and happy.

When I told Helen about the date she was so excited for me that it erased all my worries until the time came around to get ready and I realized I had nothing to wear. I still had all my old clothes and there wasn't a single one that didn't have a patch or stains somewhere on it. Between the two of us, Helen and I picked out the one that I could most easily hide the wear by sitting.

He met me precisely at six at the front desk, looking very nice in a simple set of black trousers and a white shirt. We walked to the restaurant. It wasn't far away at all and I think he just wanted an excuse for me to hold his arm.

We discussed many things, though I tried to keep the conversation on him, lest I get lost in his blue eyes and tell him something I would regret. Strangely though, I found myself enjoying his company, but the only attraction was to the feeling I got from being treated like a lady again and having a handsome man smile at me. I realized, sadly, that there was no attraction to the man across from me, despite his charming way or good looks.

I think he realized it too, but that didn't stop him from continuing to act like a gentleman. When we returned to the inn, we said our goodnights and he asked if he could see me again the next time he came through town. I told him he could, but somehow doubted that he would ever stop by again.

Helen begged me to tell her every detail about that night, and I did so without sparing so much as word that was spoken. She agreed too, that a relationship was not to be. I realized then that, in a way, I could have doomed her to a life without ever knowing a father. I knew she would never blame me for it, but it was true. Few men would even consider being with me, not only for my age and appearance, but for having a child out of wedlock. I would never confess that Helen was not my true daughter, so I had little choice but to let everyone believe that I had been with a man outside of marriage. Even if there was one that could look past all that, I feared that I would never have feelings for him. If I was even capable of loving a man again, it would take a long time. By then, Helen may be already grown, or indifferent to a father figure.

We did not speak of the dinner again. Though I sensed that Helen wanted to broach the subject several times, she remained silent about it; no doubt waiting until she wouldn't risk it making me feel sad.

I had no expectations of seeing my romantic stranger again. So when Mr. Vincencio informed me a little more than a week later that he had returned and wished to see me, I was taken aback. I left the soup simmering on the stove and the bread rising.

His smile was the same and I felt that brief remembrance of what it was like to be a normal woman. Or, at least, as normal as I could have ever been.

"Hello. Listen, I know that you have no feelings for me. It was quite obvious. No, please, you don't have to say anything. But I enjoyed your company so much that, I was hoping I could take you out for dinner one more time. Strictly as a friendly companionship."

I took my time to weigh the possible outcomes. When I determined that he was sincere and that the worst that could come of an evening together was a nice meal, I agreed. He seemed relieved and said that he would have a carriage waiting for me to take me to the best restaurant that he knew of.

I hated to do it, but I wore the same dress as before. Right on time, he was waiting for me at the front desk. He was dressed much more formally than last time and I felt terribly underdressed, though he assured me that I looked beautiful.

The carriage that was waiting for us was grander than any I had seen since my time at the opera house. It was blacker than marble and as smooth as though it were made of glass. The interior was a plush, deep crimson velvet and was pulled by an equally black and magnificent stallion.

Once inside and on our way, I couldn't help myself but to ask him how it was he could afford such a luxurious carriage. He laughed slightly with a hidden mirth and said, "The war turned most men into paupers. But to a few very smart men," he said with a wink. "it turned them into princes."

I thought it was an interesting explanation, but chose not to delve further into the subject. I didn't want to hear anything about the war or the Commune. I wanted to put those events as far behind me as I possibly could.

He produced a bottle of Champaign and two glasses from a little compartment under the seat. He poured one for me and one for himself.

"You are not trying to get me drunk before dinner, are you?" I asked good naturedly, taking a sip.

He laughed. "Not to worry, my dear. This has little more alcohol than water. I do not think it would be possible for you to become drunk of it even if you consumed the entire bottle."

I smiled and continued sipping from the glass and staring out the window, letting myself relax into the cushions.

"Where is this restaurant you are taking me to?" I asked finally after realizing that we had travelled far outside the limits of even the next town over.

"It's a little further away. We should be there soon, however." He poured me half a glass more of the lovely Champaign before stowing it away again. I drank it slightly faster than a lady should. It made me slightly nervous to be that far away from Helen, though I felt no threat of danger.

By the time I realized that I was drifting asleep, I also realized that my companion's glass remained full from the first time that he had poured it and he bore a very regretful look on his face. I meant to object, or ask what he had done, but an unnatural force pushed my consciousness down into a deep sleep and I was helpless to resist.