I'm the Dauphin in France

Chapter 350 Alexei's Nemesis

"Oh, okay." Alexandra pouted and said, "Count Bobulinski, I want to fly faster."

"I'm afraid it can't be done." Alexey spread his hands. "They said this is already the maximum speed. But they are going to replace the high-pressure steam engine next month, uh, I think that's what it's called, and then it will be able to rotate faster."

The little girl sighed in disappointment:

"Ah, that's still a long way to go...but luckily we'll be in Paris for a while too."

As she was speaking, a bell rang nearby and the carousel slowly stopped.

The little girl jumped off the wooden horse, and her big eyes looked around, pointing to the winding waterway of the "Rapids" not far away:

"I'm going to play that! I remember it wasn't there last time I came to Paris."

Alexei glanced at the scorching sun above his head, ignored the handkerchief handed over by the servant beside him, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, and said with a bitter face:

"It's really hot today! Maybe we can wait until it's cloudy to come back and play. You also said that we will be here for a while."

"That won't do." Alexandra touched Mickey beside her and pulled her uncle towards the rapids without saying anything. "You just bought an 'all-you-can-play ticket'. You can't waste it."

The 30 livre ticket allows you to play any of the attractions in the amusement park until dark.

"If it weren't for that damn winter," Alexei was dragged forward by the seven-year-old girl with a look of despair on his face, "we could have arrived in Paris in early summer, and the weather at that time wouldn't be so torturous."

In fact, Catherine II had asked him to take his granddaughter with him as early as the end of last year. However, soon after he left St. Petersburg, he encountered a terrible cold weather that was rare in decades. The temperature dropped to minus 30 degrees Celsius and his breath turned into ice. At that time, the whole of Europe, including France, was experiencing a cold winter. So they had no choice but to return to the Winter Palace.

As we all know, after the cold winter in Russia, what comes is not the warm spring suitable for travel, but the muddy ground after the melted snow mixed with soil. No matter whether it is a person or a horse, every step on this road requires three steps of feet or hooves to get rid of the mud.

So they waited until early summer before they were able to set off for Paris.

Alexandra glanced at her uncle and smiled sweetly:
"If you had not spent more than a month 'discussing' poetry with Mrs. Sirankevich in Kremenets and more than 40 days 'staying' with Miss Isabella in Prague, we would indeed have been able to arrive here in the cool early summer."

She bared her teeth again and added seriously:

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

"Ah, cough——" Alexei hurriedly interrupted his niece with a dry cough, and then looked around guiltily. Seeing that no one seemed to have heard it, he breathed a sigh of relief. Alexandra had just spoken in French. If others heard it, he would most likely become the new talk of the Parisian aristocracy tomorrow.

He quickly sent Alexandra to the rapids boat and said with a friendly smile:
"You can play as long as you want. Well, it's not too hot..."

Two hours later, Alexandra had played all the rides twice and finally decided to return home satisfied.

After getting on the carriage parked outside the gate, she looked at the facilities in the amusement park reluctantly and sighed:

"I heard that these were designed by His Royal Highness the Dauphin of France. I don't know why he is so smart."

Alexei, exhausted by the heat, continued unhappily:
"He is a prince, it is normal for him to be smarter than ordinary people..."

The little girl looked at him seriously, as if she was thinking about something:
"Uncle Alexei, you are also a prince. Then you can help me build an 'Eden Amusement Park' in St. Petersburg. I will be very grateful to you." "Ahem, ahem..."

Alexei was almost choked to death by his niece, but fortunately he was used to it and immediately changed the subject:

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

Alexandra immediately became serious when she heard about the painting:

"You're right. I should check the paints. After all, they were brought from faraway Vienna. And I'd better choose the clothes for tomorrow in advance..."

She likes Mr. Greuze's paintings very much, and one of her goals of coming to Paris this time is to learn painting techniques from him.

Drawing is her favorite subject.

The next day.

Jean-Baptiste Greuze, the famous French melancholic painter who created "The Guitarist", in his villa in the Louvre area of ​​Paris.

Several luxuriously dressed aristocratic girls were sitting demurely on chairs in front of Greuze, listening to him talk about portrait composition techniques.

However, the young ladies would occasionally glance at the youngest girl sitting in the middle, with curiosity and a little rejection in their eyes.

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

However, in their eyes, the Russians were just a group of semi-civilized Tatars who tried hard to imitate the French but could never do it well.

Simply put, a bumpkin.

So even though she was an archduchess, they didn't think she was a big deal. On the contrary, they were very confused about how a country bumpkin could come to the class of the famous Mr. Greuze.

Soon, Greuze finished the theoretical part. After drawing some examples on the spot, he called his maid to be the model and asked the students to use the techniques just taught to paint a portrait of the lady in her thirties.

The students came to the studio. Alexandra set up her easel, took out the precious paints she brought from Vienna, put on a serious face, and began to paint seriously.

In the afternoon, Greuze returned to the studio, and when he glanced at the works of several students, he could not help showing disappointment on his face.

Although these disciples were of noble birth and paid him high tuition fees, to be honest, their talent in painting was very average.

If he wasn't trying to supplement the family income, he really wouldn't want to waste his precious time on them.

It was not until he saw the paintings of the little girl who had just arrived today that he was stunned - her painting skills were indeed not mature enough, and even her basic sketching skills were a bit poor, but she understood the techniques he had just taught very thoroughly, as if she had practiced them many times.

What surprised him even more was that there was a unique spirituality in her paintings, making people feel as if there was a beating heart in the colors she painted.

(End of this chapter)