Mariszka and I are standing in a huge ballroom full of guests. We are wearing dresses from that shouty and boring era. Mariszka's dress is elegant, almost austere. Mine – bare shoulders and deep cleavage. In our hair, arranged in high bouffant hairstyles – artificial flowers. Mariszka has tiny blue violets. I have big red roses. My neck is adorned with a gold necklace with a red stone.
We watch the guests waltz, and I'm tempted to waltz too, but only with the one man I was flirting with five minutes ago. Markus Morgan. But I wasn't interested in him, no. I was only flirting with him because Mariszka is in love with him. But that's a secret only our mother and I know. And I took a keen pleasure in using that fact to annoy my little sister. And now she's standing there with her soul full of burning hatred for me. You can see it in her eyes. Doesn't speak to me. Doesn't look at me. Oh, the pleasure. The pleasure of humiliating her, this nun, this nun. Everyone's saying how modest and elegant she is. Well, with her qualities, her foolish love for Markus Morgan seems ridiculous, because he's a bad boy. He'd never look at someone like Mariszka. But I'm indifferent to him, I just want to get on my sister's nerves who's in love with him. And she's so easy to humiliate. To exploit her secret.
But Markus is busy dancing with his maternal cousin.
I feel someone's eyes on me.
Mum looks at me with a frown. I smile back at her and send her an air kiss.
Mariszka is being taken away to dance by Martin. He always cares about us, his sisters. But more for the youngest.
I am led into the circle of dancers by the beautiful vampire William Ruark Gordon, and we twirl in a smooth dance, discussing the latest news and laughing.
The next day, in the evening, we sit in the main hall, listening to a quartet of violinists. So terribly mannered, elegant. It's disgusting. Pretending to be aesthetes.
Mariszka's not here. She hasn't left her room since this morning.
This fact amuses me, and I realise with a thrill of pleasure that my goal of yesterday has been achieved.
– Please excuse us, boys. Maria and I are going for a walk," I suddenly hear my mother's voice.
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. That's it! How interesting to learn that I, without my knowledge, was going for a walk!
But, smiling at my mother, I rise from my chair and straighten the folds of the hem of my beautiful dress. Mum and I leave the castle and walk slowly down the well-maintained, flat stone lined path. We walk far away from our castle. Hand in hand. Silent. After a while our heels clack against the stones of the wide bridge that connects our vast estate with the rest of Warsaw.
Suddenly Mum stops and releases her hand from mine.
– Mariszka cried all night," Mum says quietly.
I glance at my mother: her face is full of sternness and sullenness.
– Because of you," she adds.
Ah, that's it. That's what this walk is for.
– Come on. She's always unhappy about something," I reply ironically.
– Maria, what you did was disgusting to your sister. You're well aware that she loves Markus Morgan. But you were flirting with him.
– I was just having a bit of fun. I didn't think Mariszka would cry about it," I say in an indifferent tone.
I don't have an ounce of regret in my soul.
– I know you've never felt sisterly love for each other. And that saddens me. But I am not asking you to love her. I'm asking you to respect her feelings. Her love. – Mum's voice suddenly trembles and tears appear in her eyes.
