Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

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"Oh, alright," Alexandra pouted, changing tracks, "Count Bobrinsky, I want to 'fly' faster."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Alexei spread his hands, "They say this is already the maximum speed. But next month they are going to replace it with a high-pressure steam engine, uh, that seems to be what it's called, and then it will be able to spin faster."

The little girl sighed in disappointment:

"Ah, that's still a long wait... But fortunately, we are going to stay in Paris for a while."

As she was speaking, the bell rang beside them, and the carousel slowly came to a stop.

The little girl hopped off the carousel, her deep blue eyes sweeping around before they settled on the winding water ride called "Rapids Advance" not far away:

"I want to go play on that! I remember it wasn't here the last time we came to Paris."

Alexei glanced at the scorching sun overhead, ignored the handkerchief offered by the servant beside him, and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, saying with a grimace:

"It's really hot today! Perhaps we could come and play another day when it's overcast. You said it yourself, we are going to be here for quite some time."

"That won't do," Alexandra patted Mickey by her side, and without any argument, pulled her uncle towards Rapids Advance, "You just bought an 'all-rides ticket', we can't let it go to waste."

A 30-livre all-rides ticket allowed you to enjoy any attraction in the amusement park until nightfall.

"If it weren't for the damn winter," Alexei let out a look of utter resignation as the seven-year-old girl dragged him along, "we could have arrived in Paris during the early summer, when the weather wouldn't be as tormenting as this."

In fact, Catherine II had sent him with his granddaughter at the end of the previous year, but not soon after he left Saint Petersburg, he encountered a severe cold spell which occurs only once in decades, with temperatures dropping to minus 30 degrees, and breath turning to ice—a time when including Russia, all of Europe was going through the winter—thus, they had no choice but to return to the Winter Palace.

As everyone knows, after the winter in Russia, what comes is not a spring warm enough for travel, but a slush of melting snow mixed with mud. Both man and horse, with each step on this kind of road surface, had to pull their feet or hooves out of the mud three times, just to get free from the mire's entanglement.

Therefore, they waited until early summer to finally set out for Paris.

Alexandra glanced at her uncle and flashed a sweet smile:

"If you hadn't 'discussed' poetry for over a month with Mrs. Sylankiewicz in Klementyev, and hadn't 'stayed' for more than 40 days at Miss Isabella's place in Prague, we indeed could have arrived here during the cool early summer."

She then bared her missing teeth, adding earnestly:

"If I hadn't been so persistent about coming to the amusement park, you might still be at Miss Isabella's..."

"Ahem," Alexei hastily interrupted his niece with a cough, then nervously looked around, relieved to see that apparently no one overheard—the things Alexandra had just said were in French, and had they been heard, he might well become the talk of the Parisian nobility by tomorrow.

He promptly ushered Alexandra onto the Rapids Advance boat, offering with a dutiful smile:

"You can play as long as you want. Hmm, actually, it's not that hot..."

Two hours later, after having been on every amusement twice, Alexandra was finally content and decided to return to their stay.

As she boarded the carriage parked outside the main entrance, she looked back longingly at the attractions inside the park, exclaiming:

"I heard that all of these are designed by His Royal Highness the Crown Prince of France, I really wonder why he is so clever."

Alexei, exhausted by the sweltering heat, replied with annoyance:

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"He's a prince, so isn't it normal for him to be a bit smarter than the average person..."

The little girl looked at him intently as if pondering something:

"Uncle Alexei, come to think of it, you're also a prince, even older than the Crown Prince of France. So why haven't you designed an 'Eden Amusement Park' in Saint Petersburg?"

"Cough, cough..."

Alexei nearly choked to death on his niece's words but, being used to it by now, he quickly changed the subject:

"Tomorrow is Mr. Greuze's first lesson. Do you need to prepare in advance?"

Alexandra became serious upon hearing anything related to painting:

"You're right, I should check the paints since they're all brought from far away Vienna. And I should choose tomorrow's dress in advance as well..."

She was very fond of Mr. Greuze's paintings, and one of her objectives in coming to Paris was to learn the art from him.

Painting was her favorite subject to study.

The next day.

In a villa in the Paris Louvre District, the renowned French painter of melancholic style, Jean-Baptiste Greuze, the creator of "The Guitar Player," was present.

A few extravagantly dressed noble girls were sitting demurely in front of Greuze, listening to him explain portrait composition techniques.

However, the young ladies would occasionally glance at the youngest girl sitting in the middle, their eyes filled with curiosity and a touch of exclusion.

In the brief introduction before the class, they learned that the girl was a Russian Grand Duchess named Alexandra Pavlovna, apparently the eldest daughter of the Russian Crown Prince.

To them, Russians were nothing more than a semi-savage people desperately trying to imitate France without ever quite managing to do so.

In simple terms, bumpkins.

Therefore, even though she was a Grand Duchess, they didn't think much of her. Instead, they were baffled as to why such a bumpkin could attend the classes of the famous Mr. Greuze.

Soon, Greuze finished the theory part. After demonstrating with a few strokes, he called over his maid to model and instructed the students to draw a portrait of the thirty-something woman using the techniques he just taught.

The students proceeded to the studio. Alexandra set up her easel, took out her precious paints brought from Vienna, pulled a grimace, and began to paint with concentration.

In the afternoon, Greuze returned to the studio. After his gaze swept over the works of several students, his face inevitably showed a shade of disappointment.

Although these disciples were of noble birth and paid him a hefty tuition fee, to be honest, their natural talent for painting was quite average.

If he weren't in need of supplementing his income, he would genuinely prefer not to waste his precious time on them.

It wasn't until he saw the painting of the little girl who had just come today that he was taken aback—the painting skills weren't mature enough, even the basics of sketching were somewhat wanting, but she had understood the techniques he had just taught extremely well, as if she had practiced them many times before.

What surprised him even more was that her painting possessed a unique spirituality that made it feel as though there was a beating heart within the colors she laid on the canvas.