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take it they are some measure of old friends. So I will know, you see, precisely where to find you in
October.”
“It seems I have no choice.”
“True. At least not in the timing. But this is our chance to begin again. And very few people
are given such a chance.”
“We must have a picture,” he said, abruptly pushing his chair back from the table. “A picture to
commemorate this most extraordinary day.”
She followed his gaze to the sight of a street artist in the corner of the square, a man painting a
patch of daisies. Konstantin waved him over and he moved toward them at once, dragging his easel
and palate of paints. “For a year,” Konstantin said, “we have taken such pains to leave no evidence
of our love. But today there is no need to be careful. Today we must have a memento.”
She nodded. The waiter had brought their food and they ate as the man painted them. And at
some point, without comment, Konstantin picked up the train ticket and put it into his pocket. When
the clock in the square struck three, he waited for her to react. She was always extraordinarily aware
of the hour and he had thought on many occasions that this was what having a love affair meant. For if
a woman possessed of both a husband and a lover knows anything, she knows what time it is. But she
said nothing and he found this so uncharacteristic that he had to ask.
“When must you return to the palace?”
“There is no need to rush,” she said. “The Grand Duchess wishes to speak to you one last time
before you depart and after that we have the whole afternoon. At least until it is time for you to catch
the launch to the train station.” She looked up at the sky, which had shifted during their luncheon from
dark blue to light, as a low flat cover of clouds had moved in. “The day is changing,” she said.
“Everything is.”
The drawing which the street artist presented to them was not bad. Tatiana’s bright rose
colored dress shouted its presence from the center and, beneath the café table, the man had taken note
that their knees were touching. Their feet were perhaps touching as well, but given the central
location of the cat this was impossible to verify. Their faces were turned away from him, as if both
of them were looking at something in the far distance. Konstantin was charmed by the conceit, which
showed the yellow braid of Tatiana and his own darker hair, similarly curved, stretching across their
shoulders in the manner of two question marks. He believed their facelessness cast them into as