“Does he remind you of anyone?”
Sophie stepped right up to the portrait. She could now distinguish the brushstrokes that made up his mustache, the dabs of pigment that flushed his cheeks. She gingerly put a finger up to the holes in the canvas. How many bullets there had been! She could have told the princess that something in his appearance reminded her of her father, but she knew that would sound ridiculous. Her father, an English poet, and a not very successful one at that, had nothing to do with this brave Russian soldier.
“He doesn’t remind me of anyone,” she said, shaking her head. “But then, he’s not likely to. I don’t know many Russian princes who were murdered in front of their own paintings.”
Next to this portrait was another one, equally large, with a sheet hanging over it.
“They were painted as a pair,” the princess said, and snatched at the sheet. She watched Sophie’s face closely as the painting was revealed.
It was a portrait of a woman in a simple white gown — but the face had been cut out with ugly slashes. All that could be seen above the dress were tendrils of dark blonde hair and a rope of heavy gray diamonds that hung around the woman’s neck all the way down to her waist. The necklace was so long it had been looped up to the side.
Marianne and Delphine had caught up with them.
“What happened to her face?” Delphine cried.
“What a horrible thing to do,” Marianne said.
So this was the young woman Masha had called the wolf princess,Sophie thought. The young woman who had been brought to the palace as a young girl, nursed a wolf, and married a prince. How could anyone be so cruel? Sophie sensed a savage anger behind the slashes.
“I can understand it,” the princess whispered. “The rage that someone else could be so rich. Whywouldn’tyou want to cut their face out of a painting?”
“It wouldn’t get you very far,” Marianne said primly.
The princess shrugged as if she thought Marianne’s logic of no interest. She came closer and traced the rope of diamonds around the painted neck. “Imagine what one could do with those,” she whispered. “A rope of diamonds long enough to hang a man. They would fetch a fortune.” A single, sudden tear welled up in her eye and splashed onto her cheek. She put a diamond-laden finger up to the corner of her eye. “Oh, what’s the use! They’ll never be found.”
The three girls looked at each other, horrified.
“Please don’t cry, Princess,” Sophie said, touching her arm.
“But the lost Volkonsky diamonds! She didn’t take them with her! They’re here … somewhere! They have to be!”
She turned to face Sophie, a stricken expression on her face. “I’m in such trouble,” she whispered. “Don’t you see?”
Sophie felt a chill crawl across her shoulders.
“What do you mean?” Marianne said.
“You’re a princess.” Delphine sounded confused. “You’re a beautiful princess. How could you be in trouble?”
“I owe a lot of money,” she whispered, “which now Imustpay. I had hoped for more time … just a little more time. But the general will soon be here … He gave me a lot of money to search for the Volkonsky fortune. Oh yes. You need money to find money. I had to pay people for documents, bribe officials to ensure their loyalty. And it was all for nothing. I promised the general everything I have, everything Idon’thave … but it isn’t enough. He is not a patient man.”
Sophie saw a patch of red appear on the princess’s cheek. She was appalled.
“But you can sell some paintings!” Marianne said. “People pay a lot for old paintings, don’t they?”
The princess shook her head, twisting the diamond rings on her hand. “The paintings here are worthless. There is nothing else here I can sell. And I have run out of time.”
“But there must besomethingyou can do!” Sophie said. She looked at the two portraits, one slashed by a saber, the other ripped by bullet holes. Perhaps the Volkonskys were unlucky or cursed, she thought. You heard of families like that: whole generations lost or ruined due to one mishap, one mistake, which, even though small, was like a compass error, and just became greater with each passing generation. Was the beautiful Princess Anna Feodorovna fated never to find happiness?
The princess stepped toward the portrait and put a shaking finger up to the damaged canvas. The squares of gray oil paint had been enlivened by dots of white to replicate the diamonds’ lazy sparkle.
“Where are they?” she whispered. “Princess Volkonskaya … please … tell me!Whereare your diamonds? If you won’t tell me where you hid them, I will look just like you. Not so beautiful then …” She turned to Sophie, anger and desperation in her eyes. “Why can’t you help me?”
“Me? But what canIdo?” Sophie said, shrinking, and watched the princess’s expression turn ugly.
“You really do know nothing,” she said. “You’re no use to me.”
“Princess!” They turned and saw Ivan in the doorway. He had smoothed his hair and his jacket was properly buttoned now.
