When Nikolai and Elena set off again from the intersection of Nevsky Prospect, there was not much conversation along the way. Nikolai turned his head to the right, watching the bustling streets of St. Petersburg, while Elena kept her head down, lost in thought.
When the two young people, each with their own thoughts, returned to the Winter Palace, they were quickly summoned by their parents for various inquiries about the day's events.
"I got along well with Princess Elena," Nikolai replied casually, which made Empress Maria suspicious. She repeatedly reminded him, "You must forget your own comfort... Be doubly polite, and never show that you are bored."
Alexander III, however, had confidence in his son. "He knows what to do."
"And Sasha, remember not to drink too much."
"I haven't had a drink..."
Despite the court doctors' serious concerns about Alexander III's health and Empress Maria's strict supervision of Sasha's drinking habits, they still managed to sneak drinks.
Like a big child, Alexander III lied stubbornly, claiming he wouldn't drink today, causing Empress Maria to sigh repeatedly.
"...Elena, how did your conversation with Grand Duke Nikolai go?"
On the other side, the atmosphere in the Count of Paris's household was not as warm as that of the Russian Tsar's family.
Since the death of the Count of Chambord in 1883, the Count of Paris had been recognized as the heir to the French throne by both the Legitimists and the Orléanists. This was due to an agreement between the two factions: the Count of Paris supported the childless Count of Chambord, and upon Chambord's death, the Count of Paris inherited his claim to the throne.
The French Third Republic, born from the Franco-Prussian War, was a bourgeois republic that made peace with Bismarck and suppressed the Paris Commune uprising. This illegitimate republic was naturally politically unstable, with each president's term averaging less than three years. Frequent political scandals and corruption weakened the republic's legitimacy, making it appear shaky.
The most significant threats to the republic's survival came from the royalist conspiracies aiming to restore the monarchy, such as those led by the Count of Paris. However, like the republic's political scene, the royalists were also divided.
They were split into the Legitimists, Orléanists, and Bonapartists, depending on whom they supported as the rightful claimant. Each faction further divided into those who advocated for changing the government through legal parliamentary elections and those who supported overthrowing the republic through armed rebellion and military coups.
As mentioned earlier, the political power of the Count of Paris had greatly diminished after his speculative investment in the Boulangist movement failed miserably, similar to previous attempts to destabilize the republic. The royalists failed once again.
Therefore, he needed new supporters and new hope for his increasingly fragmented faction. The Russian Empire was a good choice. It was an autocratic state, and its national strength far surpassed the support his eldest daughter becoming the Queen of Portugal had brought.
If the Orléanists still hoped to reclaim the throne of Paris, this might be their last chance.
"I... it went well..."
Elena's ambiguous answer displeased the Count of Paris. He frowned and paced back and forth in front of the cushion where Elena sat, increasing her mental strain.
"...Elena, you should understand your father's efforts." The Count of Paris played the emotional and familial cards. "I understand your love for Eddie, but those Englishmen will only watch us fail from the sidelines... I'm sorry, but this is for the greater good."
If it were Nicky...
He never talked to me about duty and interests!
Elena's first thought was of the somewhat shy Russian youth.
"...Yes, I understand, Father."
"Sigh..."
Her vague response made the Count of Paris shake his head, but her sister Louise tried to ease the tense atmosphere.
"Father, Elena has her own sense of propriety. I saw it just now; the Russian Crown Prince glanced at her several times. He must be enchanted by her."
"Louise!"
Elena's soft exclamation and the Count of Paris's joy were simultaneous.
"Really! That's good news."
"..."
Louise's observation lightened the Count of Paris's steps, but the happier her father was, the more Elena felt a rebellious and depressive urge.
"You must dress splendidly for tonight's banquet, Elena. You will be the center of attention."
The Count of Paris's tone sounded as if he were addressing a finely crafted piece of merchandise rather than his daughter.
"..."
"Nicky? What are you thinking about?... Cough, cough..."
While the evening banquet at the Winter Palace was being meticulously prepared, Empress Maria was carefully selecting table decorations, and Alexander III was nowhere to be found, having taken a hands-off approach.
Nikolai, unexpectedly idle, paced the opulent corridors of the Winter Palace, pondering what opening line he should use in his conversation with Elena that evening.
A somewhat weak voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Nikolai's younger brother, Georgy.
During their educational trip to the East, Georgy had unfortunately contracted tuberculosis, which had deeply saddened their mother, Minnie.
Tuberculosis was an incurable disease in this era.
"Tonight's banquet—you know, the French Orléans nobles are coming to the Winter Palace," Nikolai answered offhandedly.
"I heard Princess Hélène of Orléans is also here."
Due to his health issues, Georgy had to stay indoors most of the time, leaving him with little knowledge of external affairs.
"Yes, just as the rumors say, she is very beautiful... How have you been lately?"
The two brothers were close in age and had a good relationship.
"You see, I'm doing quite well. I was riding a horse just yesterday."
Georgy clenched his fist and struck a pose, but a few coughs broke the illusion of health he tried to project.
"…"
"It's nothing, just a minor illness. Mother tells me stories of miraculous self-healings all the time."
When faced with helpless diseases, many turn to faith.
The royal family was no exception. Minnie had sent people to inquire about many relics, churches, and monasteries reputed for miraculous healings, becoming a Russian version of seeking divine intervention.
Nikolai, unexpectedly idle, paced the opulent corridors of the Winter Palace, pondering what opening line he should use in his conversation with Elena that evening.
A somewhat weak voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Nikolai's younger brother, Georgy.
During their educational trip to the East, Georgy had unfortunately contracted tuberculosis, which had deeply saddened their mother, Minnie.
Tuberculosis was an incurable disease in this era.
"Tonight's banquet—you know, the French Orléans nobles are coming to the Winter Palace," Nikolai answered offhandedly.
"I heard Princess Hélène of Orléans is also here."
Due to his health issues, Georgy had to stay indoors most of the time, leaving him with little knowledge of external affairs.
"Yes, just as the rumors say, she is very beautiful... How have you been lately?"
The two brothers were close in age and had a good relationship.
"You see, I'm doing quite well. I was riding a horse just yesterday."
Georgy clenched his fist and struck a pose, but a few coughs broke the illusion of health he tried to project.
"…"
"It's nothing, just a minor illness. Mother tells me stories of miraculous self-healings all the time."
When faced with helpless diseases, many turn to faith.
The royal family was no exception. Minnie had sent people to inquire about many relics, churches, and monasteries reputed for miraculous healings, becoming a Russian version of seeking divine intervention.
"Sorry."
"It's not your fault, Nicky. It's all in God's hands."
Nikolai believed that illnesses could be cured.
However, he knew nothing about medical history, except for the name penicillin—a miracle drug that every time traveler should know.
Unfortunately, Nikolai had no idea about the process or technology involved in making penicillin.
What a disgrace to the predecessors of time travelers!
After this slightly disappointing interlude, Nikolai was once again summoned by Empress Maria to assist with the preparations.
"Isn't this a bit too much..."
Nikolai was dumbfounded as he looked at the banquet menu and the entrance order.
To showcase the splendor of the Russian court, even the serving of dishes was arranged like a theatrical performance, divided into three acts. Different dishes wouldn't be served simultaneously but would "take the stage" in sequence.
In the first act, there were rich soups, a variety of meats, and the main course; the second act featured roasts and additional desserts; and the third act was reserved for after-dinner desserts.
This lavish display was more about dazzling the guests than satisfying their appetites.
It seemed overly extravagant to the Tsarevich, but Empress Maria thought it was just right.
"Nicky! You're a Grand Duke of the Russian Empire, not some penny-pinching commoner."
Nikolai's mother believed that being "overly frugal" would cause the haughty French to look down on the Saint Petersburg court.
"The Count of Paris has many supporters in London and Paris. If we let him look down on us, Russia will become the laughingstock of all Europe."
"Pointlessly wasting the people's taxes," Nikolai muttered under his breath, which prompted a resigned Maria to pat the Tsarevich's chest once again.
"Nicky, you must understand that this isn't about personal honor; it's about the dignity of this court and the entire country. This is a necessary protocol. Your father is also frugal, but he understands its importance."
"Yes, I understand."
Nikolai's compliance brought out the maternal side of Empress Maria. She lovingly caressed the Tsarevich's face and told him to prepare well.
"Remember to invite Princess Elena for a few dances tonight. Your father and I are looking forward to your marriage."
"Yes."
The entire banquet was indeed as Empress Maria described—replete with imperial grandeur.
The dinner for over thirty guests featured no fewer than 48 main dishes. Of course, it wasn't expected that everyone would sample each dish; it was more about offering a variety of choices for the attendees.
Snacks were served between courses for those who still had an appetite after the main dishes.
Once the main course was finished, the servers cleared the table and replaced it with various roasts and desserts.
The dining style of the banquet was buffet-like, with guests gathering in small groups for quiet conversations.
The Tsar and Empress deliberately created a private space for Nikolai, and under the encouraging gaze of her father, Princess Elena reunited with the Tsarevich of Russia.
"Nicky, good evening."
"Good evening, Naina..."
As Nikolai turned his head, his eyes lit up. Elena had changed her attire.
Under the bright incandescent lights of the Winter Palace, Elena's curled hair was swept up, creating a charming halo of elegance. Her black evening gown contrasted sharply with her flawless, porcelain-like skin, accentuating its snow-white purity.
The tight corset gathered her chest, creating an enticing cleavage. The daring off-shoulder design, typical of French fashion, exposed Elena's delicate collarbones and arms to Nikolai's gaze.
Her slim waist, cinched by the corset, was accentuated, and the crinoline skirt added to her hips gave her an S-shaped silhouette, making her figure captivating from both the front and the side.
Moreover, with Elena wearing high heels, her already tall figure appeared even more statuesque. Nikolai realized that if they were to embrace, his face would easily end up buried in Elena's ample, alabaster chest.
"What are you looking at?" Elena asked curiously as she noticed Nikolai gazing around aimlessly.
"I was just wondering what to eat earlier, but now I feel full."
"Full?"
"Because there's something much more delightful by my side, so I'm already satisfied."
Nikolai's cheesy line made Elena, despite her heavy makeup, blush slightly.
"I actually want to eat more... I didn't have much appetite on the ship, and I didn't eat much at lunch. Now, I'm so tightly bound that I can only eat a little."
Perhaps due to their previous conversations, Elena and Nikolai's interaction now felt natural and relaxed. She started complaining about her father's strict rules to maintain her image.
"There's still the ball after the banquet. You should eat some dessert; they have a lot of sugar and will make you feel full."
Nikolai walked over to the dessert table, picking up two glass cups from the server. Inside was a dessert made of sugar and ice—strawberry and peach ice cream.
"Thank you."
Like many, Elena couldn't resist sweets. She used a small silver spoon to scoop out the semi-solid ice cream and let it melt in her mouth.
"Aren't you going to eat anything else?" Seeing Nikolai's lack of interest in the banquet's diverse food offerings, Elena asked again.
"Well, how should I put it? Not really to my taste."
"You don't like any of it?"
"Not really... I tasted a few dishes earlier," Nikolai complained to Elena. "No matter the ingredients, they're all smothered in strong, exaggerated sauces that mask the original flavors, making everything taste almost the same."
Earlier, Nikolai had sampled a dish called "Rabbit Stewed with Onions and Garlic in Wine."
The chef, proudly serving at the table, explained that the recipe was ten pages long and involved ingredients like foie gras, truffles, French brandy, and many spices. Yet, in the end, Nikolai could hardly taste the rabbit.
"They all use something called 'Spanish sauce.'"
Skeptical, Elena also had the server cut her a small piece of roasted beef to taste. Growing up in Paris, Elena was familiar with these French cooking techniques.
"What does this have to do with Spain?"
"Not much... It's just a name... Maybe it originated from Spain."
Through Elena's explanation, Nikolai understood that despite the name, "Spanish sauce" was a luxurious French concoction made from animal fat, ham, poultry, tender beef, wild rabbit, and partridge meat in precise proportions.
"These sauces are expensive to make and are typically used only in grand hotels and palaces that emphasize extravagance."
As a noble, Elena was used to this.
"But this sauce makes all the dishes taste the same."
However, Nikolai, also from a country known for its cuisine, had his own standards for food. He shook his head.
"I didn't know you were a gourmet, Niki."
"Just a bit. I can make some oriental dishes. If I get the chance, I'd love to have you try them. How about that?"
"I'd love to."
Their conversation didn't last long before the servers moved the long dining tables to the sides of the hall, clearing space for the upcoming ball.
"I'm not the best dancer, but don't worry. It's been a while since I stepped on a partner's foot."
Nikolai's self-deprecating comment made Elena laugh.
"I don't think there are any dance instructors here with whips to punish you. What's more important is..."
Elena took Nikolai's hand and led him to the center of the ballroom.
Nikolai felt a bit nervous being in the spotlight, but Elena held his hand firmly.
"What's important is that we're happy."
Seeing Nikolai and Elena getting along so well, Maria, the Empress, nodded in satisfaction. She signaled the court musicians to start playing a gentle waltz.
Nikolai and Elena began with a few slow dances, then took a break by the drink station, sipping on some strong liquor that lifted their spirits.
As the night progressed, the music's tempo gradually increased, and the guests, having digested their food, entered a phase of revelry.
Nikolai couldn't quite remember everything because he had drunk quite a bit, but he felt very happy and energized after several hours of dancing.
Later... he still remembered playing a card game with Elena and her two sisters.
And then... well, after that, his memory became fuzzy because of his bad luck with cards and the amount of alcohol he had consumed.
When Nikolai woke up, it was already noon the next day. His head was pounding as he stumbled off the sofa, realizing he was alone in the disheveled bedroom.
"Your Highness, would you like us to tidy up now?"
"No... wait a moment."
Hearing the noise, a servant in the Winter Palace lightly knocked on the door to check on the crown prince, but Nikolai's attention was on his own face.
Standing in front of the mirror, the crown prince noticed lipstick marks—kisses—on his face and neck.
Feeling his jaw, Nikolai regretted it. He couldn't remember any of the details!