14
Maison Cinsault, 3 December 1870
Johann and Radcliffe arrived at the house of the newly widowed Madame Cinsault after a long, chilly walk in the snow. Neither man said much, and Johann wondered what Radcliffe’s thoughts turned to. He had seemed restless that day.
“Something bothering you?” Johann finally asked. The icy sunlight had given way to more snow, and it swirled around them and gave the sensation of walking in a private cocoon.
“Since the siege began, it’s been difficult to get news of the outside world. I’m concerned about how the war at home is going.”
“Right, the War Between the States.”
“Or the un-Civil war,” Radcliffe replied with a wry smile.
“Is your young lady still in Vienna?”
“That’s the other problem—I don’t know. If she’s returned to Boston, my friends at hom
