Chapter 349: Alexey's Bane
"Oh, fine." Alexandra pouted, then changed her request, "Count Bobrinsky, I want to 'fly' faster."
"I'm afraid that's not possible." Alexey shrugged. "They say this is the maximum speed. But they're replacing it with a High-Pressure Steam Engine next month—or something like that—and then it'll be able to spin faster."
The little girl let out a disappointed sigh:
"Oh, that'll take a long time... but it's good that we'll be staying in Paris for a while."
As she spoke, a bell beside them rang, and the Carousel slowly came to a stop.
The little girl hopped off the carousel horse, her big eyes scanning the surroundings, and pointed to the winding flume of "Raging Rapids" in the distance:
"I want to go on that one! I remember it wasn't here the last time I came to Paris."
Alexey glanced at the scorching sun overhead, ignored the handkerchief his valet offered, wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and said with a grimace:
"It's scorching hot today! Perhaps we could come back and play when it's cloudy. As you said, we'll be staying here for a while."
The 30 Livre all-access pass allowed unlimited play on any attraction in the amusement park until dark.
"If it weren't for that cursed winter," Alexey groaned, dragged forward by the seven-year-old girl with a look of utter despair, "we could have arrived in Paris in early summer, when the weather shouldn't have been this tormenting."
In reality, Catherine II had instructed him to depart with her granddaughter as early as the end of last year, but shortly after leaving Petersburg, they encountered a terrible cold snap, a rarity in decades. Temperatures plummeted to -30 degrees Celsius, and breath froze solid—at that time, all of Europe, including France, was experiencing a harsh winter—so they had no choice but to return to the Winter Palace.
As everyone knew, after Russia's bitter winter, what followed was not a warm spring suitable for travel, but rather muddy terrain where melted snow mixed with earth. Whether human or horse, every step on such roads required three pulls of a foot or hoof to escape the clinging mud.
So they waited until early summer before they could finally set off for Paris.
Alexandra glanced at her uncle and gave a sweet smile:
"If you hadn't spent over a month "discussing" poetry with Madam Silankievich in Kremenets, and hadn't "lodged" with Mademoiselle Isabella in Prague for over 40 days, we certainly could have arrived here in the cool early summer."
She then bared her gapped teeth and added seriously:
"If it weren't for me constantly reminding you about coming to the amusement park, you might still be with Mademoiselle Isabella..."
"Ah, hem—" Alexey quickly interrupted his niece with a dry cough, then nervously glanced around. Seeing that no one seemed to have heard, he finally let out a sigh of relief—Alexandra had said those last words in French, and if anyone else had heard, he'd almost certainly become the new gossip of Parisian aristocratic circles tomorrow.
He quickly helped Alexandra onto a Raging Rapids boat and said with an eager smile:
"Play as long as you like. Hmm, it's not actually that hot..."
Two hours later, Alexandra had ridden all the attractions twice and, finally content, decided to return to their lodging.
Boarding the carriage parked outside the main gate, she reluctantly looked back at the attractions in the amusement park and sighed:
"I heard His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of France designed all of these. I really don't know why he's so clever."
Alexey, utterly exhausted by the scorching heat, retorted grumpily:
"He's the Crown Prince, it's normal for him to be a bit smarter than ordinary people..."
The little girl looked at him seriously, as if pondering something:
"Uncle Alexey," she began, "speaking of which, you're also a Prince! Then you can definitely help me build an "Eden Amusement Park" in Petersburg too, can't you? I'd be so grateful."
"Cough, cough..."
Alexey nearly choked on his niece's words, but fortunately, he had gotten used to it on this journey. He immediately changed the subject:
"Tomorrow is Monsieur Greuze's first lesson. Do you need to prepare in advance?"
Hearing something related to painting, Alexandra immediately became serious:
"You're right. I should check my paints; after all, they were brought all the way from Vienna. And I should pick out tomorrow's clothes in advance..."
She deeply admired Monsieur Greuze's paintings, and one of her goals for this trip to Paris was to learn painting techniques from him.
Painting was her favorite subject.
The next day.
In his villa in Paris's Louvre District, was Jean-Baptiste Greuze, the famous French painter of melancholic style who once created "The Guitar Player".
Several nobly dressed aristocratic girls were sitting gracefully on chairs before Greuze, listening as he lectured on portrait composition techniques.
However, the young ladies occasionally glanced at the youngest girl seated in the very center, their gazes carrying both curiosity and a touch of exclusion.
During the brief introductions before class, they learned that the girl was a Russian Grand Duchess named Alexandra Pavlovna, apparently the eldest daughter of the Russian Crown Prince.
However, in their eyes, Russians were merely a group of semi-civilized Tatars, desperately trying to imitate France but never quite succeeding.
In short, they were bumpkins.
So even if she was a Grand Duchess, they didn't think she was anything special. On the contrary, they found it utterly incomprehensible that a bumpkin could attend the class of the renowned Monsieur Greuze.
Soon, Greuze finished the theoretical portion of his lesson. After drawing a few examples on the spot, he called his maid to serve as a model, instructing the students to use the techniques he had just taught to paint a portrait of the thirty-something woman.
The students moved to the studio. Alexandra quietly set up her easel, took out the precious paints she had brought from Vienna, put on a serious expression, and began to paint intently.
In the afternoon, Greuze returned to the studio. As his gaze swept over the works of several students, a look of disappointment involuntarily appeared on his face.
Although these disciples were of noble birth and paid him hefty tuition fees, to be honest, their painting talents were quite mediocre.
If he weren't trying to supplement his household income, he genuinely wouldn't want to waste his precious time on them.
It wasn't until he saw the painting by the little girl who had just arrived today that he was suddenly taken aback—her painting technique was indeed immature, and even her basic drawing skills were a bit lacking, but she had understood the techniques he had just taught with remarkable clarity, as if she had practiced them many times over.
What surprised him even more was that her painting possessed a unique spirit, making one feel as though there was a beating heart within the colors she used.
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