“Come to sit down. I want to hear why you are travelling alone in Russia, which seems to me a remarkably foolhardy thing to do.”
“I can look after myself,” Vida said lightly, “and actually I have no one to travel with me since my husband – died.”
“You are a widow?”
“Yes, but I have reverted to my own name since I think that is one of the ways to prevent oneself from feeling unhappy.”
She spoke with what she hoped was a sad note in her voice and did not look at the Prince, although she was aware that his eyes were upon her face.
Then, as she sat down on a comfortable sofa, he sat in a chair almost opposite her and said,
“Tell me more. You cannot suddenly have materialised from Hungary as if you were Aphrodite rising from the foam.”
“Actually I have come from Paris.” Vida smiled.
“An
