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A distinguished-looking English gentleman is ushered into the office of the principal Director of a certain prominent international banking institution, at its headquarters in Brussels. The Director rises from behind his surprisingly simple desk, greets the gentleman warmly, and indicates to his guest that he should take a chair.While the Director's manservant prepares coffee, the Director hands a document to the englishman, who reads it and then looks up, a curious expression on his face.

"Very well, I shall, of course, take on the duty most willingly. I am honored that he specifically asked that I should be one of those who would be called upon for this task. But...may I enquire...why me?"

The Director smiled as he took the cup of dark,thick coffee that his man was handing to him."My dear Geoffrey, quite simply...the Prince liked you. As he worked with you through our branch in London, when he was in England for so many years, I think he developed a sense of trust in you. And after all, he felt a strong connection to the English side of his heritage...I was not at all surprised to read in the instructions he left for us that he would wish to have an English gentleman on the Regency Council that would govern Melioria if something happened to him."

Geoffrey Edwardtone nodded."Yes he certainly did love all things English. Such a remarkable, enlightened man. And such a shame. But I gather no identifiable corpse was actually found?

The Director shook his head. "No....however the presumption is that he is deceased. There is the minimal chance he was carried off by the hostile aboriginals into the wilderness and may be a prisoner...but it is very, very minimal.

Geoffrey sighed, and then an odd, ironic little smile lit up his face. "Knowing the Principe di Melioria, I should not be surprised if he has found some means of survival. In fact, I would not be entirely shocked were it to turn out that the Prince has charmed the natives into making him the Chief of their tribe, and even now has them all organized doing hydraulic engineering projects..."

The Director laughed, and then his face became serious once again. "That may be, but his instructions to us were to look after the Principessa and his children, and make sure they had all the resources they required, AND to set up this Regency Council to govern the principality until such time as the Prince is either found alive, confirmed as dead, or sufficient time has passed that the death will be a legal presumption. Then, at that time, decisions will be made for the succession of a new ruler. By the way, before leaving on his trip, the Prince already made the necessary discreet contacts with adjoining kingdoms and principalities to ensure that the authority of the Regency Council would be accepted, should it have to be assembled..

Geoffrey Edwardstone looked relieved. "Well that certainly simplifies matters a great deal...I presume the business arrangements will be continued as at present?"

"Yes, absolutely. Melioria is a vital element of our interests. You may wish to close the gambling house, if it does not seem on the road to profitability, and you will continue the transition from the springs being used for a spa, to the bottling of the waters as a curative. But essentially, the town will continue as a resort, with the same expectations that the nobility of various nations will be welcome, though usually incognito...for all the various reasons, of which I have no need to explain, no?"

Geoffrey looked as if he were taking mental notes. "Quite right, Very reasonable, very civilized. So let's see who else is on the Regency Council..." He began studying the final page of the document.

"You know Signor Aldo Stern?" asked the Director.

"Ah...yes...the Piedmontese legal scholar. Good choice. Met him in Hanover during the war. Very sensible gentleman, very thoughtful. I shall enjoy working with him. And I see the prince's sister, Donna Ariella, is on the Regency Council as well. Excellent. Good to have a member of the family on board."

The director smiled. "Yes, she is currently living in the villa, so that will facilitate a sense of continuity. Donna Ariella is rather quiet, and relatively young, but those who have gotten to know her say she is a most intelligent and practical lady. A very good head for numbers, it seems. I am confident you will enjoy working with her as well."

Geoffrey looked back at the paper and arched an eyebrow as he continued reading. "Who's this last one on the list--Diogeneia, Freifrau von Khr? Whatever is someone--who seems to be a german baroness--doing on the council?"

The Director's face gave no hint of any concern. "She is the widow of a German baron--a member of the minor nobility in Franconia. She had relocated to Melioria and developed a friendship and mutual respect with the Prince. His notes indicate that he thought she has an uncommon degree of common sense...the sort of person that the prince tended to appreciate. He was thinking pragmatically as well: he saw a potential value in having another titled person on the Regency Council besides his sister, but one with no ties to any particular court. She will be seen as impartial.

"She has no special allegiance to the Bavarians, or the King in Prussia, perhaps?" asked Geoffrey.

"Only in that she gets a small pension from the Prussian government for the services rendered by her late husband...he was a Rittmeister of cavalry," replied the Director with a slight shrug.

"Indeed? Which regiment?"

"5th Bayreuth Dragoons, I believe. He was awarded the Pour le Merite in the long war."

Geoffrey looked impressed. "Oh splendid...top-shelf horse soldiers, those fellows...and a contract regiment from one of the semi-autonomous margravates. Yes, she'll most likely be delightfully independently-minded. But she'll be a cooperative member of the Council, you think?"

The Director smiled, "My dear Geoffrey, I have every confidence that the Baroness von Khr will act in a way that shall be consistent with what the Prince would have wanted. She has the utmost respect for his memory..." Then he shrugged in that careless, continental way. "And...the bank, after all, has extensive means for gathering useful information that helps us in looking after the interests of the organization and our clients. Had there been any indication she would be the proverbial 'loose cannon,' the document you presently hold in your hands would have disappeared long before now, and an improved but utterly plausible alternative would have been produced."

Geoffrey Edwardstone nodded and silently tucked the document into a leather folder. "We commence immediately, I presume?"

"You depart for Italy, at once, my friend," answered the Director as he guided the englishman out of the office.

"It is time for us to get off this island and get back to the mainland," Prospero was saying. Prospero is older than Rico and I. Rico has just 12 years and I have almost 13, and both of us are apprentices. Prospero is older, maybe by four years (I am not sure).

Oh yes! I remember when I first met Prospero. He arrived from Parma with skills he learned in his family for producing cheese and prosciutto. Prosperos father sent him to Venezia to learn baking and cooking so that the family could open an Inn.

Prospero Pastorelli learns to bake

Rico was so small when he came to Venezia from Monselice. His father sent him to apprentice with the Bragadin family at their printing company. Soon Rico was running the printing presses and learning the crafts of making paper, carving characters, running and maintaing the printing press, and even book-binding. He was quick to learn, and quick to grow. He soon was as tall as me.

Rico Millefiori meets Fiorino Pera the first day he arrives in Venezia

For me, I had no family to direct me, but the gondoliers liked me, and Cristiano made me his apprentice. I was learning how to manage the gondola well, but then the floods came and we had to leave Venezia.

Cristiano il Gondoliere takes Fiorino Pera as an apprentice

Prospero, Rico and I came to Melioria with many others after the floods nearly a year ago. The Principe di Melioria offered to help us complete our apprenticeships. It has been difficult for us, since, unlike Venezia, there are few artisans in Melioria. Now with the prince missing, there is little hope.

Fiorino Pera and Rico Millefiori on their arrival in Melioria after the floods of Venezia

Rico looked up: "Do you have a plan, Prospero?"

The older boy nodded. "You both have contacts here on the island. So do I. Let us find out from these people if we can get passage to the mainland. That is the first thing. Once we are there, we can look for craftmasters who will school us."

Prospero tells us that we need a plan

We agreed. In the pit of my stomach I feel pain. Melioria has been wonderful, but I know I need to build a future. Prospero and Rico both have families. If anything goes wrong they can return to their homes. I had the help of the Patriarch of Venezia. I wonder if I can return to his household? But there is time for those thoughts afterwards. We have people we must contact if we are to leave this island.

The skies of Melioria darken at Prince's disappearance

*Baker's table that Prospero uses was designed byMadonna Nowles.

News came that the Principe di Melioria, our beloved Signor Capo (as he liked us to call him) has been lost in some tragedy in the New World. No one told me the whole story, but the Principe d'Auvergnemet me at the docks early yesterday and told me that all of the orphans who have been wards of the Principe should not fear for their future at the port of Melioria.

Yet, the Principe was beside himself with grief. He wept and sighed, and I began to fear the worst.What happened? How could this be? There are no answers. The principe d'Auvergne told me that tomorrow the ships will come from Gaeta. Perhaps they would bring us better news.

The morning was misty and cold: very odd for this time of year. The mist became thicker and thicker, and as I mounted the hill I could make out the figure of a noble on horseback. He was as still as a monument, but he was the picture of sadness. He looked out at the port and remained still for many minutes, so that I hesitated to approach.

When the noble finally rode off, I continued to look for my friends. There was no need to worry. The cold weather made it easy to find them.As I approached the palazzo, I could see Prospero standing at the window of the boys' sleeping quarters. He wore his hat and cloak, which was strange to see on someone indoors. Even from a distance, I could see that Prospero had a dire look in his eyes. It was the same look that I had seen in the eyes of the Principe d'Auvergne and in the posture of the horseman. He must have heard the bad news too.

Slowly I made my way upstairs, to the boys' sleeping quarters. Prospero was in shock and stood by the window, searching through the now impossible fog. Rico, instead, sat on his bed. He sobbed and sighed.

"Our dear prince is missing," Rico cried as I came in the room: "he cannot be found."

Prospero looked at Rico and then at me. "It is time to make our plans," he said. "We have lost our patron. We must leave this island." The words were hard. I looked at Rico and he nodded. We both knew that our friend Prospero was right.

A package with letter sits unopened on the round pietra dura table in the front hall of the Villa.

________________________________________________________________________

The Letter Addressed to Principe Elswits wife

El segundo da de Mayo en el ao de Nuestro Seor 1780

La Mayora de la Princesa Excelente, Artemisia di Elswit

It is with sincere regrets that I must write to you today.

I have been informed our dear friend Su Prncipe ms Excelente Elswits rancho has been attacked by renegades from the local tribes. We can not confirm or deny the truth in who these devils are. Unfortunately, I can only be certain that a bloody raid has taken place. The newly started hacienda and surrounding out buildings have been burned to the ground leaving a charred footprint in the center of his dearly loved vineyards with Death triumphant at its core.

Several bodies have been recovered that we can tell were European amongst many native dead. We cannot tell, beyond their origin, who each soul was. friend or foe.

I can assure you we have given Christian rites and proper burials to these poor souls so you can be comforted in knowing they are with our dear Father. But sadly we cannot with certainty know which was our dear friend and benefactor the Principe.

These times are hard here in this new land. Our work and small mission to bring the pagan population to our Lord has suffered much over the last decade but the Principe in his hard work and generosity has helped immensely in our survival. His love and knowledge of the Grape has made it possible for the Mystery of Our Lords Sacrifice to be incarnate at our Mass with sweet wine from your husbands toil. The Principe will find many blessings and rewards for his efforts when he reaches heaven.

His valuable vineyards and their precious yield could survive. I know you would want to see his good works continue. If you can find it in your heart to deed over his lands to our small poor community we would be humbled to continue his legacy and work his lands. I have taken the liberty to request an agent of Our Most Christian Majesty be sent to you so that he may advise you what would be needed to lift the burden of this distant part of your husbands hard work from your shoulders at a time when you would benefit more from contemplation and prayers than overseeing a distant small portion of his estate.

I have included in this dispatch some personal possessions that must be your dear husbands with his journal.

May the Lord comfort and keep you.

Padre Fermn de Francisco Lasun de Arasqueta

Mission San Carlos Borromeo de Carmelo, Alta California

________________________________________________________________________

In a tattered journal with the crest of the House of Elswit on cover

From the journal of Principe Capacitatodd Elswit,

Durante l'anno di nostro Signore 1780

Bello Pacifico

Casco Antiguo is as alive a port as one could imagine and here on this side of the Americasthe Spanish reign supreme. The Spanish draw most of their wealth from the South American coast and Manila. (Of course their only purpose is to bring the natives to God). No enemies venture this far in any numbers to be concerned about. And the riches of this small port are beyond imagining. To think this represents only a minute amount of the gold being sent back to Spain. They say the heat is mild now but, though equal to the temperature at home, when you add the humidity one can hardly breathe. I stayed in the shade and waited impatiently to leave for the drier climates north of here in Alta California. I chartered the ship and once loaded it was spilling over with goods. The winds were perfect for our sail north and, except for the whalers and trade ships, we were alone.

As we moved further north the jungles gave way to the barren western coast of Virreinato de Nueva Espaa. At this time of year the grass is so green and plentiful but there are few if any trees and the grass will turn a golden brown as summer approaches. Rolling hills retreat away from the dry cliffs into the distance and fade into the great desert beyond. And from that desert comes the dryness of the air. Heat literally pulling the moisture out.

As we passed the entrance into the Mar de Corts we see the last of the great migration of the whales that swim by my estate from January to late April in the thousands. These monsters are so large they can upset any size ship and send us to our Maker. Our Captain was as adept as these swimming giants are in avoiding one another as he tacts through the crowded waters. As a caution he had empty barrels in ready to throw overboard. He said the loud thunking sound as the barrels hit the water distracts them away from the ship if they get too curious. And one sailor played his pipes continually in the belief that music calms the whales. My observation is that they hardly have a thought for us in their great lives except when we pluck them from their eternal rhythm for use in our lamps and corsets.

At Acapulco we were able to do a valuable brisk business trading for spices, fine porcelain, ivory and lacquerware and also able to obtain many bolts of fine silk cloth from the Galeones de Manila-Acapulco that had just landed from the East.

Further up the coast we made a landing at San Diego to get provisions for the estate. Such a small outpost. There are at most 50 settlers not including the priests and soldiers and the Europeans are far outnumbered by the natives who just a few years ago rose up, burned down the stockade and small church killing 3 Spaniards in the process ..one being a priest. The authorities are still investigating what could have caused such madness. We traded goods for provisions for the estate. (Ever the optimist I am planning for my work and improvements to still be intact after this much time passed.) And since I did not know in what state my cattle were in I also bought up 10 good cow and one fine bull before they were slaughtered with the rest of a herd on the beach being readied for market south.

Within a week we should see the beach, small arroyo with two round hills on either side and in the far distance the high bare mountain some call El Calva that marks our destination.

At Sea

Weather cool, sea calm, winds fine.

Mission San Juan Capistrano

We spent the night on board before safely going ashore in the morning. To our South the cliffs rose high and rocky and the beach in front of us with mild waves. The Sun rose over the gentle green hills pure and strong so bright I could barely look at the smoke rising from the small mission hidden by the pepper trees and palms in the valley before us. We were greeted by a contingent of padres from the mission and soon had a small army of Juaneos Indians helping us unload the ship. With only two launches this took all day to get the goods up high enough on the sand to not be swept away when the tide came back in. Of course the bull was tethered to a uselessly small tree and was soon wandering up the valley toward the fresh water higher up the San Juan creek. I gave two Indian boys the duty of following him so that he didnt get out of sight and so we could capture him later and before he entered the missions herd unbranded.

After the guards had been posted over my unloaded cargo, and a boy sent ahead to my estate to let them know I had arrived and to send carts with oxen immediately, I then made my way up the valley to the mission for the night.

The mission had grown but had to be resettled after only a few weeks of existence. A native uprising in San Diego forced the padres to go back south to the Presidio. Within a year they were back and now after four years much has been accomplished. The adobe church is complete and decorated with many frescoes all surprisingly painted by the native converts. Interesting how our Saints and their lives seem so much more bloodied and severe in their Divinity when painted by an innocent hand. And the mission bells are hanging from a large branch of a pepper tree waiting for their campanile to be constructed. The bells were too heavy to be transported to safety during the uprising so they were buried in the vineyard. I guess the padres learned how much the natives were of help when confronted with carrying their own objects.

Hacienda San Juan Capistrano

As suspected not much work has been completed on the buildings. The Ca Elswit is a sad affair of a large foundation, some mud walls and mostly timber supports. There is not one roof complete and al open to the stars.

I had enough light to tour the grapes. Though not tended properly most vines were strong and thriving but resembled that orphan Fios head of hair before Cece could shear him. All tangled growing in every direction without care.

Much work ahead.

We sleep tonight on what clear area we can find. The horses seem anxious and tensely alert. Probably the coyote that circle our camp watching us just beyond view and the light of the campfires. We can hear them talking to each other in their eerie speech and we know we are not alone.

(In an irregular and weak hand there is only the following)

salga cuore

casa

il mio amore

Villa Vesuviana Melioria

(Then empty pages. A soft warm breeze drifts in through the open front doors.)

I had no worry of my future; it was my past of which I was uncertain. It returned from time to time, in bits, in chunks, in storms roaring from a babys cooing and following the path of mid-morning sun across a whitewashed wall. I did remember some things, both happy and sad: sweet cookies straight from the oven, the death of a childhood pet. I also remembered other things that made me fearful: grey skin jammed beneath fingernails, barred windows, and ratted hair.

The gypsy girl shook a cup, dumped some items on the cloth-covered tabletop between us and bade me select three. I had the choice of: a back stone shaped like a raven, a metal nail, a tiny cup-shaped button, a small wedge of dried root (hemlock), a painted coin worn smooth, a tooth, and a claw. The table spun and I couldnt decide. I tried, and tried and I looked and looked as the gypsy waited and the room seemed to be a bit too close. Her eyes were perfectly almond-shaped, large and beautiful. I could feel the curtained walls closing in and felt her watching me as if in a fishbowl and I grew uncomfortable because the items were all so similar and yet all so different. Why are you rushing? she asked without emotion. There were too many choices yet only seven but that was six too many; I had to choose three and eliminate four. Do not be overwhelmed, she crooned. As I poked at the items with my smallest fingers, aligning them and never once touching them with my thumbs; I thought of my sisters, my sorrowful sisters and I knew that each of my choices represented each of them and which, I wondered, which item represented me? This set me to tapping my forehead with my fingers.

But, the gypsy reminded me as if she could read my thoughts, You are not here to find yourself. You come seeking information on another, unless that someone is really you. How should I know? I came seeking answers, not riddles, I snapped. She smiled at me. Often the riddles are the answers. The answers can be new ideas. Instantly I became mad, wanting to scream at her, but all I heard were my own screams bouncing off the walls of my soul. She remained motionless, still as a statue.

I tossed the raven-shaped stone, the tooth and the metal nail back into the cup.

She nodded and turned over the next card.

Jealousy. Uncertainty. Confusion. The gypsy glanced at me and then not-so-subtly, inched her seat in the other direction. Is a problem of extremes. Is a situation with a rope, you see. You are the rope drawn tighter and tighter as the lead end moves on. Finally, the tail end must be loosened and whips forward in one great motion. This can hurt.

Or kill, I replied.

She narrowed her eyes appraisingly and said nothing, ready to turn the next card.

When I heard there was a hunt of eggs on The Villa, I inmediately run. As some may know, i adore Meloria, and I wanted to had at least one egg, maybe just one egg. Sometimes, even when I spend almost my time traveling, I had to spend a lot of time on France, so I wanted something to had, something really pure of the Pincipato, one piece of it, and the egg gotten on one hunt seemed like the perfect thing. I went to The Villa,and as fast I went I was on the hunt ofthe egg, walking on the night over the Principatto di Meloria. I tryed to imagine where would be the eggs: one plant, one jar, one statue. There was so many posibilities, and so many places. I was, of course,clueless, but i keep walking anyway. Suddenly, something on the floor called my attention.

It was one crow. A raven. Those birds always had waken on me some sort of admiration, they're so misterious and dar, but so smart and loyal. I wanted to see the bird closer. It was big, and black with yellow eyes. I remembered the beast I've seen some months ago.

I stared watching the raven, and it beggan to run. Not fly, just run. I wanted to see him more, so i followed him, I run after himuntill he jump into one of the many fountains of The Villa. I was entertained with the crow, who was jumping and jumping, like if he would be trying to get out of there. I was beggining to wondering if I would take him out of the watter and free him somewhere, until I've seen the strangest thing on my life: One pig. Not every day you seemed one on the streets of The Villa, but it was extraordinary because was on tow feet and tall, on the distance would appear as one fat man. God, he even was even wearing male clothing! Then, as a shoot of grace, he speaks.

-Maybe the raven is leading you somewhere, madame.

I turn around, and the raven was still jumping. I went into the water, and he went to the inside of the cascade of the fountain. There, i've found the eggi was searching.

After I save the egg on my dress, I tryed to follow the raven and the pig. I wantedto say "thanks" and, to not beggan to think I was going to had the same trouble that my dear friend Prunela, ask the pig how he was abble to talk. But when I turn around, they were walking away, toghether. I tryed to follow them, but on the middle of the run I fell on another fountain. The dress was heavy, but I'm strong and were able to swim.

It take one time to get out of there. The water was, thankfully, on this season of the year, a little warm, and there was no wind. If it would be winter, I would had gotten one pneumonia, and even when one of my personal friends is one doctor, I ratter to talk to him for one better reason.

Back to the point, after getting out of the watter I keep walking. I didn't know where they would had going, but I deccided to follow my instincs. Maybe it was them, maybe just causality, but after some minutes I found the pig. The was no sign of the raven. Maybe he just fly away.

Finally there he was, but I knew he was going to run soon. Maybe if I would asked, he would had stay. He lead me on a very kind way to the egg, alongside the raven. But he start to run again.I though that maybe heneeded to go toother place or with other person, so Idecided to just wind my hand and scream "Thak you"while he was running again.

From the Eternal City, where with some of the youth of Venezia, we come to celebrate the Resurrection of Our Lord and Savior, I send good wishes to all, and an apostolic blessing.

Resurrexi, et adhuc tecum sum. Alleluia! - These words from the Sacred Liturgy are as the Risen Christ speaking to us, his people. He says, "I am risen and I am here with you." To this we shout our praise and say "Alleluia".

May the Risen Christ reign in your hearts and lives. May our Divine Savior bless your homes, strengthen your dear ones, and reveal God's love to you day by day.

A blessed and glorious Easter to all!

+ Federico Maria

Patriarca di Venezia

Visitor general to the Principato di Melioria

il ventiduesimo Aprile durante l'anno di nostro Signore 1780

Casco Antiquo, Panama

After the early storm almost scuttled our ship mid Atlantic we decided to make a heading toward Santiagode Cuba instead of the long voyage around Tierra del Fuego. This meant we would then head to Portobelo and travel by land across the Isthmus to Casco Antiguo chartering a new ship to carry me up the western coast to my estate. Portobelo is so loaded with Spanish colonial gold and silver my ship was of no interest to anyone in port and, though the wages of these other ships are tempting to my crew, they are all seasoned enough to know what conditions are like on the Oro Ships. They are more than happy to carry out my wishes to make several ports of call around the islands to trade our goods while I journey on. Panama is a short route but full of heavy work loading and unloading our wagons and horses to cross all the streams and rivers to cover the trek from east to the west coast. It is early enough in the year that our passage overland was as free of perils as possible but the Caminoi de Cruces is abundantly punctuated with gravesites to let you know that a wish for safety is more in Gods hands then yours.

We are making decent time.

Paris, April 20th

This must be the dirtiest city in our world and one has to pay a costly amount to see it. The tolls of the city of Paris are high and when one enters it all seems rather pretty and worth the pay but then nearing the centre more it shows and smells more and more and suddenly the feeling of being cheated into it becomes stronger by the minute.

After those first days I have relocated to another inn near the border of the city where the air is more bearable. It even has a little park around it. The innkeeper is a former officer of the Garde Royale who has retired some years ago, his wife a daughter of the bourgeoisie; her father was a jeweler. I feel safer here than at the grubby inn I was a few weeks ago. These are educated decent people. Where I as afraid my jewelry was stolen at the old inn, here Madame Du Bois has even restored a string of pearls that broke when it was caught between the lid and box. She used to work in her fathers atelier before she married and her brother is still a jeweler in Paris. She offered to introduce him to me, his work apparently is quite exquisite, she has shown me some pieces which she keeps for herself. It is indeed well crafted and detailed and yet it does not look pompous. France is quite the revelation in this. I have seen one woman at court who had such a large collier around her neck that she could not even turn her head. While in conversation with two other ladies on the parterre I saw her turn back and forth continuously with her whole body to be able to face the lady talking. Quite amusing to see I must admit. I have noticed that here at court one at times even wears evening jewelry. In England it would be frowned upon to wear diamonds during the day. The changing of dress during the day could be considered a day job. It is now that I understand the sigh of relief uttered by Lady Rochford when she told me life had become so much easier since her husband resigned from his embassy in France. I have not met the current ambassador and I do not think he is an acquaintance therefore I will probably not have to bother with avoiding him. To return to the topic, I am quite bored with the dresses I brought so I have ordered new ones. I am expecting them to be delivered this week. The bill will go to the banker and will be paid through the London branch so that he will not notice my presence here. I do find myself travelling France more than being at court. The court is quiet at the moment with the extensive renovations being finished, perhaps it will take a leap into crowdedness again in some weeks. I am planning on visiting the countryside more, there are some charming provinces and the people are much more agreeable than the Parisians, then again if I were to live in such a city permanently I would probably grow to be of similar grumpiness.

Apart from it being mentioned on the passport I have not used the barony of Saint Vaillion-Waircainvalle in conversation as it might be too risky when questions are asked at court. My maid Marie is still trying to figure out how I have come to this name. It really is quite simple as I told her, but I promised her to reveal the secret when I return to my real name. For now I remain the Baroness du Sart and I must admit that this is a very comfortable position. Apart from the closed doors at court, it is very interesting to observe life through the eyes of a baroness. I can not say to prefer this position in life but being used to my own status in life for so long and the privileged position it brings I have never taken into consideration what a noble of lower rank has to endure. When this is all over I will recommend it to my friends. There is so much more freedom in the world whilst at court it is much more restricted. It is silly when you realize that more people would prefer the freedom at court and restrictions in life than the other way around; how complicated the mind of mankind works. Charles has bettered his behavior. I wonder what E. is up to at this moment.