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"He did this to you?" I whispered.

"I'm all right, Marietta."

"You must tend to it. Ice. Salve. You must-"

"Don't fuss over me. Please."

"Lucie-"

"I'm not the first woman with a swollen cheek, and I doubt I shall be the last. It doesn't even burn anymore. It feels numb."

Her voice was perfectly level. There was a poignant dignity about her as she sat there on the sofa in her blue muslin dress, her hands folded neatly in her lap. I forced myself to quell the emotions raging inside and fought to regain some semblance of calm.

"He told you, I suppose," she said.

"He told me. He didn't say he had struck you."

"A minor detail," she replied. "He probably considered it too insignificant to mention. I managed to slip out and find Vanya-Vladimir doesn't begin his watchdog duties until nightfall. Vanya took a message to Bryan at the student hostel and-and Bryan won't be coming tonight. I don't want him shot."

I was too tense to sit down. I moved over to stand in front of the fireplace. The fire had not been lighted. The room was growing cold. I shivered, folding my arms around my waist.

"How could he?" I said. "How could he be so brutal and uncaring?"

"You've never really known my uncle, Marietta."

"I'm beginning to realize that."

Lucie lifted one of her slender hands to brush back a loose wave of golden brown hair. "He's very accomplished at showing only that part of his character he wishes an individual

to see. He can be tender and warm, as he was with you in the beginning, but he can also be-an entirely different person." .

The silver was melting. The shadowy haze thickened, all color fading, yet neither of us moved to light the candles.

Lucie sat perfectly still on the sofa, silent for several moments, and then she raised her head, looking up at me. A final shaft of pale silver sunlight fell across the upper portion of her body, and I saw her face clearly. Her eyes had never been so calm, so old.

"My uncle feels responsible for me," she said quietly.

"My father never cared for me. He gladly turned me over to his brother and made it quite clear it wouldn't matter if he never saw me again. My uncle took very good care of me. He was very generous, even after he tired of me."

I looked into those calm eyes and realized what she was saying and a wave of horror swept over me. Lucie saw my expression in the dim haze and smiled a bitter smile.

"I never told you," she said. "You never guessed. He was the first, Marietta. I was thirteen years old. I was in the stables on my father's estate. My uncle came upon me there. He shoved me down onto a pile of hay and took me by force. He came to my room that night and took me again, and a few days later my father agreed to let me go away with him. My uncle was the first person who ever paid any kind of attention to me, and I ,I suppose I equated that attention with giving my body, so-when my uncle grew tired of me and looked for new diversions, I began to give it freely."

I understood so much now, and in addition to the horror I felt a great sadness that was almost overwhelming. Lucie got up and moved about the room lighting the candles, blossoms of wavering golden light marking her progress.

"And then you came into my life and-s-and gave me hope that I might become another person," she continued. "I met Bryan, and I actually believed I might find real happiness."

"You shall," I said.

"The ironic thing about it is-we were so close. Last night he informed me that he had finally been able to book passage for us. The ship leaves next Thursday night."

"Thursday night," I said, thinking.

"At ten o'clock. We were to sail from St. Petersburg to Copenhagen, from Copenhagen to Oslo, and then across the North Sea to London. Bryan told me all about it. It was-it was to be a grand adventure. I've never been on a ship before, you see, and-"

"You'll be on that ship, Lucie," I promised.

Lucie shook her head. "There's no possible way," she replied. "My uncle will be watching my every move.

Vladimir will be guarding my door. I-please don't build my hopes up again, Marietta. I couldn't stand-I couldn't bear-" And for the first time tears sparkled in her eyes and spilled over her lashes. "I've resigned myself. I haven't the strength to-"

I stepped over to her and took her hands and held them tightly. Lucie lowered her eyes, tears glistening on her discolored

cheek.

"Look at me, Lucie," I ordered. My voice was sharp.

She raised her eyes. The expression in them was almost unbearable to behold.

"You're going to leave on that ship at ten o'clock next Thursday night," I told her. "I promise you that, and it's a promise I intend to keep come what may. Do you believe me?"

"But-but how?" she whispered.

I didn't know that yet. "You'll just have to trust me," I said.

TIMING WAS EVERYTHING. I REALIZED THAT.

We were due at the Hermitage at eight o'clock. We would leave the Marble Palace at seven-thirty. It was now twenty minutes before seven and my nerves were on edge and I felt I was going to fly into pieces. I knew it was a wild, foolhardy

plan that would never, never work and would only bring disaster down upon all of us. My hands trembled as I fastened the hooks of my gown. How could I have ever believed such an incredibly risky plan would work? Gown properly fastened at last, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to banish the panic inside. You must be calm, Marietta. You
must
be calm. If you can't go through with your part of it, everything will fall apart.

Calm. Serene. Cool. Perfectly natural, as though nothing untoward were afoot. You can do it. You must. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes and gazed at myself in the mirror. Monsieur Andre had come to do my hair again, and I had wanted to scream the whole time he had fussed and fiddled and plied his trade, chatting incessantly. The rich coppery red waves were artfully arranged atop my head, with three long sausage ringlets draped over my left shoulder, a spray of diamonds and sapphires fastened above them. Monsieur Andre had clapped his hands with glee upon completing his job, declaring it perfection, a masterpiece of hairdressing. Had there been a pistol in my hand I would have shot him.

My gown was of pale sky blue silk brocade embroidered with tiny, delicate flowers of rich sapphire blue. The short, puffed sleeves were full, the neckline heartshaped, cut extremely low, and the skirt swelled out from the tight waist, spreading over half a dozen stiff sapphire underskirts. The skirts responded noisily to my every movement, rustling, crackling, swishing, as though imbued with a life of their own. It was a sumptuous garment, but I was in no mood to appreciate its beauty.

I picked up the diamond necklace I had worn to the Winter Palace, looking at the glittering stones worth several fortunes. Because of its extreme value Gregory kept it locked up in his safe-along with all the jewels he had taken from Lucie-and a servant had brought it up to me only a few minutes ago. It didn't go with the gown, Lucie's diamond and sapphire necklace would have been much more appropriate, but that wasn't why I had requested it tonight. It was the final touch, my own contribution, and I felt not the slightest compunction about the use I intended to make of it.

Ten minutes before seven. Was I ready? Could I go through with it? I still felt tremors of panic, but they were under control now. My heart was no longer palpitating.

My hands were steady. I studied my face in the glass and saw it betrayed none ofthe emotions trembling inside. My sapphire eyes were serene, the lids lightly shaded with pale gray-blue shadow, and the high cheekbones were skillfully tinted with a suggestion of natural pink. The lips were a deeper pink, no longer trembling at the corners.

I was as ready as I would ever be. I longed for a glass of brandy to fortify my nerves, but I didn't dare have one.

Wrapping the necklace in a large white handkerchief, holding the handkerchief at my side, half concealed in the folds of my skirt, I left my rooms and started down the hall.

You've done a number of things far riskier than this, I reminded myself. There's nothing to be alarmed about. If you can't handle Vladimir, you might as well give up and retire to a convent.

He was stationed in the hall outside Lucie's room, and he glared at me as I approached, eyes dark and hostile, filled with suspicion. I held my chin at a haughty tilt, gazing at him imperiously, the handkerchief with its fabulously valuable enclosure completely hidden by folds of sky blue silk. He stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

He seemed to loom there before me, towering, exuding menace. My knees felt weak. My throat tightened. He scowled, and my courage seemed to ebb.

"What is it you want?" he growled.

"That's none of your bloody business," I said tartly.

"Kindly step out of my way."

"I have my orders."

"I believe your orders are to see that Lucie doesn't leave her room at night, not to prevent me from seeing her."

My voice was like the cutting edge of a knife. My eyes gazed at him with demolishing hauteur. Vladimir hesitated a long moment, then reluctantly moved aside. I swept past him and opened the door. My heart was palpitating again as I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Lucie was seated on the sofa. She leaped to her feet and started to say something. I shook my head and put a finger to my lips. She understood at once.

"I promised to come show you my gown before we leave," I said. "Do you like it?"

"it's beautiful," she replied. Her voice, like mine, was loud enough to be heard in the hallway outside.

"I love the color. I love what Monsieur Andre did with my hair, too."

"He's wonderful."

"I couldn't decide on a perfume. I want everything to be just right."

"I have several perfumes in my dressing room. Perhaps one of them would suit you."

"I'm tired of the essence of poppy," I said as we moved across the room. "I want something provocative yet-i-yet subtle."

We passed through the bedroom and on into the dressing room and I sank onto the dressing stool in a state of almost complete collapse, my skirts protesting with silken hisses and !!ngry crackles. Lucie wrung her hands, ready to collapse herself. Neither of us spoke for several moments, and I was finally able to control my jangling nerves. I sat up straight. Lucie's face was pale, and a vein throbbed at her temple.

"Everything's going to be all right," I told her.

"I-I'm so scared, Marietta."

"There's no need to be. Everything is arranged."

Setting the bulky handkerchief down on the dressing table, I began to examine the bottles of perfume. I felt sure Vladimir had been eavesdropping outside the door, and he would notice if! wasn't wearing perfume when I came out.

I intended to be very close to him.

"You saw Bryan today?" Lucie asked.

"Vanya and I went riding this afternoon, and Bryan met us in the park. He has all his instructions. I'm sure the closed carriage is already waiting just beyond the back gate."

"I - I just hope this works."

"It's going to," I said, confident now. "In three hours you'll be on your way to England."

Opening a bottle of perfume, I sniffed the scent and dabbed some behind my earlobes.

"Where's the cloak?" I asked.

"It's hanging in the wardrobe."

"You'd better go ahead and put it on," I said. "Poor Lizzie. I hope she doesn't miss it right away."

The cloak had been a last minute inspiration. Even though they would take the back stairs and avoid the main rooms, Vanya and Lucie could hardly slip out of the house and, passing the barracks, reach the back gate without being seen. If Lucie was wearing one of the maid's cloaks, if she kept the hood pulled well over her head, anyone who might see them would think Vanya was stealing out for an amorous night on the town. I had gone up to Lizzie's attic room this morning and, in the rickety wooden wardrobe, had found two cloaks, one blue and one brown, the latter decidedly shabby. I had lifted it deftly and brought it down to Lucie's room without being seen. Lucie put it on over her muslin frock now. It was much too large, but that was good. It would completely cover her clothes and, pulled forward, the hood would conceal most of her face.

"Before we met Bryan, I went to several shops," I said, touching the back of my wrist with the perfume stopper. "I bought you several dresses, shoes, undergarments, a heavy cloak, everything you'll need on your journey. I had them delivered to Bryan's room, along with a small trunk."

"I was worried about clothes," Lucie confessed.

"We couldn't risk your trying to take anything tonight.

It would look too suspicious. I hope you'll approve of my selections.

There's a violet-blue velvet I know you'll love."

"How-how did you pay for all these things? You don't carry that much money around with you."

"I billed them to your uncle."

"Wasn't that-risky?"

"By the time he gets the bill I intend to be on a ship myself.

"

"I –I wish you were going with us tonight, Marietta. I hate to leave you behind. When he-when he discovers I'm gone he's going to be insane with anger. If he suspected you've helped me-"

"He won't," I said. "Vladimir will receive all the blame for neglecting his duty."

"Still-"

"Don't worry about me, darling. I can take care of myself.

I've been doing it successfully for quite a few years now."

Replacing the crystal stopper into the top of the perfume bottle, I stood up, sky blue skirts rustling like dry leaves.

Lucie's cheeks were still pale, and her lovely violet-blue eyes were full of emotions she tried valiantly to control.

"I-I'm going to miss you so much," she whispered.

"I'll miss you, too, Lucie."

There was so much more she wanted to say, but the emotion was too strong. She wrapped her arms around me and held me close for a moment, trembling, and I found it difficult to control my own emotions. I stroked her hair and, finally, gently, loosened her arms and eased her away. She brushed a tear from her cheek and forced a brave smile onto her lips.