had first seen it standing above the town, white with the sunshine glittering on its windows and what appeared to be a gold dome over the centre of it, she had drawn in her breath.
It flashed through her mind that there might be some compensation in being the wife of a King who disliked her, if she could live in such attractive surroundings.
But even as she raised her eyes to the sun-capped mountains and looked at the green woods that covered the foothills behind the Palace and the flowering trees which lined the roads along which they were proceeding, she knew that the look in the King’s eyes had caused a constriction in her heart that she could not control.
Without appearing to do so, she glanced at him sitting opposite her and realised his hair was far darker than it had appeared in the miniature.
His skin was dark or sunburnt too and his eyes, even apart from the expression in them, seemed almost black.
It made her remember that it was a joke among her sisters when they were angry to say to each other,
“Don’t look at me with black eyes!”
That, she thought, exactly described the way the King looked at her.
Once they had entered the Palace and climbed up red-carpeted steps lined with soldiers in colourful uniforms, she forgot for a moment everything but the beauty of the building.
It was Frau Weber who had made Zosina study architecture and recognise the various periods.
Of course they had started with the Greeks and Zosina had been so thrilled with the pictures of the Acropolis that she had felt nothing could ever equal the symmetry and beauty of the Parthenon.
The Romans had delighted her too and finally, when they had reached the outstanding buildings erected by Robert Adam in the eighteenth century, she had longed, although she dare not say so, to pull down her father’s Palace and erect something that she felt would be appropriate as a Royal residence.
Here, almost like the answer to a prayer, was a Palace that embodied everything that she had ever admired.
Whoever had chosen the decorations inside had kept them uncluttered from fringes and tassels and employed the vivid colours that Zosina knew always made her feel happy.
“I understand we shall be a very small party,” the Queen Mother had said when they retired to their bedrooms to change for dinner. “Tomorrow there is a great banquet being given in my honour and, although they do not say so, in yours, dearest.”
Zosina did not reply and the Queen Mother went on,
“Tonight you will just meet the King’s close relatives, although I expect the Prime Minister and his wife will be there as well.”
She made it sound quite intimate, but there were actually, Zosina counted looking round the table, thirty people seated in what she had learnt was the private dining room of the King.
The King had the Queen Mother on his right and Zosina was on his left.
On her left was the Regent and on his other side an extremely attractive, dark-haired woman with flashing eyes, who was talking to him intimately and made him laugh.
‘I must not sit here dumb and saying nothing,’ Zosina told herself, remembering how often her father had said, ‘nothing is more boring than taking into dinner a woman who is more concerned with her food than with oneself. It does not much matter what you say, but, for Heaven’s sake, talk!’
Feeling a little shy because the King had not addressed a word to her since they had sat down, Zosina turned to him and said,
“I think, Sire, your Palace must be the most beautiful one in the whole of Europe!”
There was a little pause before the King looked at her and she thought for one uncomfortable moment he intended to ignore her remark.
Then he replied,
“You must be easy to please. I intend to make a great many alterations and certainly have it redecorated!”
“Oh, no!” Zosina exclaimed involuntarily, thinking how lovely it was already.
Even as she spoke, she knew she had made a mistake and once again the King
It flashed through her mind that there might be some compensation in being the wife of a King who disliked her, if she could live in such attractive surroundings.
But even as she raised her eyes to the sun-capped mountains and looked at the green woods that covered the foothills behind the Palace and the flowering trees which lined the roads along which they were proceeding, she knew that the look in the King’s eyes had caused a constriction in her heart that she could not control.
Without appearing to do so, she glanced at him sitting opposite her and realised his hair was far darker than it had appeared in the miniature.
His skin was dark or sunburnt too and his eyes, even apart from the expression in them, seemed almost black.
It made her remember that it was a joke among her sisters when they were angry to say to each other,
“Don’t look at me with black eyes!”
That, she thought, exactly described the way the King looked at her.
Once they had entered the Palace and climbed up red-carpeted steps lined with soldiers in colourful uniforms, she forgot for a moment everything but the beauty of the building.
It was Frau Weber who had made Zosina study architecture and recognise the various periods.
Of course they had started with the Greeks and Zosina had been so thrilled with the pictures of the Acropolis that she had felt nothing could ever equal the symmetry and beauty of the Parthenon.
The Romans had delighted her too and finally, when they had reached the outstanding buildings erected by Robert Adam in the eighteenth century, she had longed, although she dare not say so, to pull down her father’s Palace and erect something that she felt would be appropriate as a Royal residence.
Here, almost like the answer to a prayer, was a Palace that embodied everything that she had ever admired.
Whoever had chosen the decorations inside had kept them uncluttered from fringes and tassels and employed the vivid colours that Zosina knew always made her feel happy.
“I understand we shall be a very small party,” the Queen Mother had said when they retired to their bedrooms to change for dinner. “Tomorrow there is a great banquet being given in my honour and, although they do not say so, in yours, dearest.”
Zosina did not reply and the Queen Mother went on,
“Tonight you will just meet the King’s close relatives, although I expect the Prime Minister and his wife will be there as well.”
She made it sound quite intimate, but there were actually, Zosina counted looking round the table, thirty people seated in what she had learnt was the private dining room of the King.
The King had the Queen Mother on his right and Zosina was on his left.
On her left was the Regent and on his other side an extremely attractive, dark-haired woman with flashing eyes, who was talking to him intimately and made him laugh.
‘I must not sit here dumb and saying nothing,’ Zosina told herself, remembering how often her father had said, ‘nothing is more boring than taking into dinner a woman who is more concerned with her food than with oneself. It does not much matter what you say, but, for Heaven’s sake, talk!’
Feeling a little shy because the King had not addressed a word to her since they had sat down, Zosina turned to him and said,
“I think, Sire, your Palace must be the most beautiful one in the whole of Europe!”
There was a little pause before the King looked at her and she thought for one uncomfortable moment he intended to ignore her remark.
Then he replied,
“You must be easy to please. I intend to make a great many alterations and certainly have it redecorated!”
“Oh, no!” Zosina exclaimed involuntarily, thinking how lovely it was already.
Even as she spoke, she knew she had made a mistake and once again the King
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