– The girl you drew? – The girl asked, and stretched out her neck to get a better view of her uncle's drawing.
Surprised by her niece's question, Anthony looked closely at his drawing and saw that the girl was right: a female figure was clearly drawn on the white paper. And it was not the figure of the fragile Vivian, whom Anthony was sure he was madly in love with. The girl in the drawing looked like Miss Charlotte Salton: high voluminous breasts, strong arms, a beautiful, somewhat puffy face, and broad dark eyebrows. On the girl's outstretched arm sat a small, graceful nightingale.
And then Anthony realised: he loved. But not Vivian, no. Not so long ago he had been ready to sacrifice his future for her, but suddenly he realised that now his heart belonged to Charlotte. The same "good fat girl", the same rich bride. The very girl whose singing made his heart sink sweetly, and whose soul was filled with sincere admiration and adoration for her talent.
"And this siren, this Danish elf, was in love with me! But I ruined everything, and now I am ready to do anything to win her heart again, so that when I asked for her hand, she would answer me with consent… And the reason for this is not her rich dowry. I don't want it. I want Charlotte and her warm, soft hands resting bashfully in mine," went through the young man's mind. The pencil froze in his hands. – But how do I win her heart? She is in love with the Duke of Nightingale! And, if she recognised my position and desire for a rich bride, Charlotte might decide that all I need is her dowry…"
– Uncle Anthony? Why are you silent? – Anthony's thoughts were interrupted by Victoria's somewhat offended voice.
– I'm sorry, my dear, I think I was thinking too deeply. – He ruffled the girl's hair. – 'Would you like me to tell you a secret?
– What secret, uncle? – The girl giggled softly.
– You're right, Victoria: the girl I drew has stolen my heart, and I hope to steal hers. But remember: it's a big secret, and I know you can keep secrets better than anyone else.
– So you're getting married soon? – Victoria jumped up and down in anticipation of her uncle's marriage to the mysterious girl from his drawing.
– I'll do my best to make sure it happens," Anthony smiled. – And I promise you'll be the only one allowed to sit in the front pew of the church, next to your grandmother Beatrice.
– Yes, yes!" Victoria laughed merrily. – And I promise to wear my prettiest dress to your wedding!
– But, my dear, remember that you will not be allowed to outshine my bride with your beauty! – Anthony winked at his niece, and the girl's gleeful laughter once again filled the spacious workshop.
Later, as he left the workshop, Anthony was eager to return to his chambers, sit at his desk and write a letter. A letter to Charlotte. But as he picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink, his mind failed to tell him the words with which it would be appropriate to begin the letter, so only a black blot fell on the clean white paper. Frowning, Anthony crumpled up the ruined paper, threw it on the floor, picked up a clean one, and stepped back to the window, thinking deeply.
It was not difficult for him to confess his love for Vivian: the words just jumped out of his throat. Anthony remembered that at that important and emotional moment his mind had betrayed him. But now, as he wished he could write to Charlotte to confess his feelings to her and beg her not to mock them, the young man's mind seemed to deny him that favour.
