it now. Why not?”
“Bankruptcies pay a percentage. You buy low and sell high,” said Chris, “and you don’t have to pay your bills anymore.”
“I have some cards that probably belong to Pallas’s father,” said Nina. “They got mixed up in my index box with scholars’ cards.”
“I think they should be handed back to Mr. Kapelas,” Rowland said.
Rowland later wrote in his book of observations:
Chris knows all about fraudulent bankruptcy. How did he come by this knowledge? Is he the son of a fraudulent bankrupt?
He said to Nina as soon as she put in an appearance, “I’ve changed my mind, you know, about the book I’m writing. It won’t be a novel. It will eventualy be a life study of a real person, Chris. At present I am accumulating the notes.”
“Well, that’s quite a sweet idea,” she said. “A study of a clever teenager. You’ll have to keep it anonymous. Chris wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh, yes, anonymous.”
She almost panicked, but set herself strongly to remind him of the forthcoming evening’s activities. They had planned a fashion show with a catwalk. Everyone in the school was to take part with their best clothes. The catwalk had been set up in their big common room.
By any standards the fashion show that evening was a glorious success. The room had been transformed into the image of a veritable fashion house. In the resulting home movie it looked quite the real thing. Strategically stacked banks of convincing paper flowers, regardless of their seasonability, were placed in all parts of the room. An unnecessary fire was glowing and flickering luxuriously. Makeshift screens, over which were draped multicolored bedcovers, were mostly due to the work of Elaine and Célestine, with the support of the daily maid Claire and Albert the garden boy with his pinewood branches for uprights.
The catwalk itself was composed of two long kitchen-table tops which were conveniently separable from their legs, as were most of the college tables. These were mounted on wooden boxes and flanked by clusters of plants. Seats were lined up on either side. A bar offering fruit juices, Coke and sweet petits fours was set up in one corner with Mozart playing softly in another.
Lightbulbs had been obtained which allowed for many varieties of illumination, from dim to dark to glowing to bright, throughout the room. Lionel Haas and Rowland were responsible for the impressive lighting throughout the show.
The only guests from outside the school were Israel Brown (his young aunt was away) and the manager’s wife from the hotel next door (her husband was too busy) who had agreed to be judges of the show. They were joined on one line of side-seats by Nina, Elaine and Célestine, Claire the maid and Albert. At each end, conveniently placed for their intermittent operations on the lighting, were Rowland and Lionel.
The opposite row of seats was sporadically occupied by the models themselves: all nine students. As each took to the catwalk another sprang up and disappeared behind the screens.
Chris was the master of ceremonies. “Oh, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “we are about to present our Sunrise fashion show, confident that our styles will soon become famous throughout Ouchy and beyond.” He wore a dark suit, white shirt and large green floppy bow tie.
Princess Tilly was first on the walk, tall, with her dark hair piled up, mysteriously elegant in a brown and gold antique shawl which she later revealed came from Cambodia. She wore the shawl wrapped round her waist to the effect that it revealed one of her high-stepping legs in their stiletto heels. She was practically topless under a transparent blue scarf, the possible perception of her toplessness to the audience depending on the lighting scheme. She walked, stopped, dramatically swiveled and walked back with great style, already followed by Mary Foot, less beautiful but equally spectacular. She, too, wore a shawl draped to serve for a dress.
“Bankruptcies pay a percentage. You buy low and sell high,” said Chris, “and you don’t have to pay your bills anymore.”
“I have some cards that probably belong to Pallas’s father,” said Nina. “They got mixed up in my index box with scholars’ cards.”
“I think they should be handed back to Mr. Kapelas,” Rowland said.
Rowland later wrote in his book of observations:
Chris knows all about fraudulent bankruptcy. How did he come by this knowledge? Is he the son of a fraudulent bankrupt?
He said to Nina as soon as she put in an appearance, “I’ve changed my mind, you know, about the book I’m writing. It won’t be a novel. It will eventualy be a life study of a real person, Chris. At present I am accumulating the notes.”
“Well, that’s quite a sweet idea,” she said. “A study of a clever teenager. You’ll have to keep it anonymous. Chris wouldn’t like it.”
“Oh, yes, anonymous.”
She almost panicked, but set herself strongly to remind him of the forthcoming evening’s activities. They had planned a fashion show with a catwalk. Everyone in the school was to take part with their best clothes. The catwalk had been set up in their big common room.
By any standards the fashion show that evening was a glorious success. The room had been transformed into the image of a veritable fashion house. In the resulting home movie it looked quite the real thing. Strategically stacked banks of convincing paper flowers, regardless of their seasonability, were placed in all parts of the room. An unnecessary fire was glowing and flickering luxuriously. Makeshift screens, over which were draped multicolored bedcovers, were mostly due to the work of Elaine and Célestine, with the support of the daily maid Claire and Albert the garden boy with his pinewood branches for uprights.
The catwalk itself was composed of two long kitchen-table tops which were conveniently separable from their legs, as were most of the college tables. These were mounted on wooden boxes and flanked by clusters of plants. Seats were lined up on either side. A bar offering fruit juices, Coke and sweet petits fours was set up in one corner with Mozart playing softly in another.
Lightbulbs had been obtained which allowed for many varieties of illumination, from dim to dark to glowing to bright, throughout the room. Lionel Haas and Rowland were responsible for the impressive lighting throughout the show.
The only guests from outside the school were Israel Brown (his young aunt was away) and the manager’s wife from the hotel next door (her husband was too busy) who had agreed to be judges of the show. They were joined on one line of side-seats by Nina, Elaine and Célestine, Claire the maid and Albert. At each end, conveniently placed for their intermittent operations on the lighting, were Rowland and Lionel.
The opposite row of seats was sporadically occupied by the models themselves: all nine students. As each took to the catwalk another sprang up and disappeared behind the screens.
Chris was the master of ceremonies. “Oh, ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “we are about to present our Sunrise fashion show, confident that our styles will soon become famous throughout Ouchy and beyond.” He wore a dark suit, white shirt and large green floppy bow tie.
Princess Tilly was first on the walk, tall, with her dark hair piled up, mysteriously elegant in a brown and gold antique shawl which she later revealed came from Cambodia. She wore the shawl wrapped round her waist to the effect that it revealed one of her high-stepping legs in their stiletto heels. She was practically topless under a transparent blue scarf, the possible perception of her toplessness to the audience depending on the lighting scheme. She walked, stopped, dramatically swiveled and walked back with great style, already followed by Mary Foot, less beautiful but equally spectacular. She, too, wore a shawl draped to serve for a dress.
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