The Paper Crown

27. New Quarters

The fuss of unpacking and arranging and organizing for our new suite of apartments prevents me for several days from attending my language lessons in the library. Our new rooms are at the end of the south wing of the palace. Here, I have my own dressing room, bathroom, and bedroom, connected by a single door to Mariusz's bedroom. Both of our rooms open onto a sitting room, which further opens onto a small dining room. It is comfortable to have my own private space again, without Mariusz's scent on my pillows, without wondering if he notices my naked shadow on the dressing screen, without having my evening baths interrupted by his apologetic knock on the door. At night, though, with all the doors shut and the darkness of the room pressing in, I find it too silent and too lonesome. I creep to the door between our bedrooms and open it just wide enough for the sound of Mariusz's breathing to pass through. Some mornings, if Mariusz wakes first, the click of the door shutting wakes me, but he never makes any comment upon my opening it, so I don't think he minds.

In fact, he rarely makes even the most cursory conversation with me at all. After my rejection of his advances, he retreats to a fastidiously polite, embarrassed distance. No more am I subject to rude remarks or insults. Every morning at the breakfast table, he is perfectly well-mannered in asking me if I would like sugar for my tea or jam for my bread. Every evening at the dining table, at which his mother and siblings are now frequent guests, he speaks in French so that I can understand what he is saying, though he never speaks to me. I gain a vast knowledge of Dominik's progress in mathematics and history, his opinions on the respective merits of Pushkin and the Brothers Grimm, and his preference for backgammon over chess. Sometimes, we all play cards after dinner, and he is not unwilling to teach me the rules of the games, most of which are new to me, and puts up with my mistakes with more patience than Zofia. If we dine alone, he reads a book or a newspaper throughout the meal, but responds to any question I might have about its topic or any request I might have to pass the bread or wine, so I know he is not completely ignoring me.

I don't know if I truly prefer this new Mariusz or not, but it certainly makes my life easier.

One morning, about five days after our move, as we are having breakfast in the sitting room a maidservant comes with a message from Konrad. Since the maidservant does not speak French or Rothalian, Mariusz translates for us.

"Konrad wants to know if you are coming to your language lesson today, or if you will miss it again," he says.

Perhaps I imagine the shade of disapproval in his voice.

"I've been so busy with moving," I say. "I still have, um, my shoes to organize."

"Your shoes?" His eyebrows rise a fraction, an echo of his old scorn. "That cannot take you all day, surely?"

I don't want to go down and spend the morning with Konrad. Perhaps I was wrong about his intentions. Perhaps he was not flirting. Perhaps he was only trying to flatter me. All the same, I feel guilty and afraid. It is better not to see him.

"You know... you could teach me."

Mariusz shakes his head. "I told you, I don't have the patience. Nor the time." He frowns. "I did not like this arrangement at first, but it is convenient. You are learning, at least."

"Not very fast. I'm not sure he's a very good teacher really. We could hire a tutor."

"If we must, but you have learned some, no? And it is a difficult language. It will take time, at least a year, I think. This morning might as well be part of that year as not."

"I don't want to learn from him for a year." I realize too late that I have revealed my feelings for Konrad, but Mariusz only laughs.

"I won't make you learn with him all year," he says. "I think in the spring, I will find a university graduate to teach you. But right now, they are all preparing for their examinations, and only the very stupidest would take the job."