“And her appearance?”
“Her appearance!” repeated Nadia with enthusiastic warmth. “Her appearance! Ah! gospodin, how can one describe what is indescribable? I am told that there lives a German duchess so beautiful that once, when passing through a certain village of Italy, the simple-minded peasants knelt, believing her to be the Madonna. I think our boyarine must be that duchess, so sweet and beautiful is she.”
“Dark or fair?”
“As fair as the day, with golden hair and blue eyes.”
“Then she resembles you.”
Nadia gave a scornful little laugh.
“My eyes are light blue; hers are of a lovely, dark azure and shine like stars. At a distance our hair may seem alike, but look closer. Mine is straw-coloured tow; hers woven sunbeams and as soft as silk. But the way she arranges it! She must be very much afraid of the Czar.”
“Why so?”
“Her coiffure shows it.”
“What! has that old autocrat been dictating in what way ladies shall wear their hair?”