suddenly the Princess has sought you out in order to express her gratitude for this act of gallantry. As you bow and reply It is nothing, the band strikes up a waltz and you have no choice but to take her in your arms and spirit her across the floor.
The Princess waltzes divinely. She is light on her feet and spins like a top. But with more than forty couples dancing and the fires in the two fireplaces built unusually high, the ambient temperature in the ballroom reaches 80˚, prompting the Princess’s cheeks to flush and her bosom to heave. Concerned that she may be feeling faint, naturally, you inquire if she would like some air. . . .
You see?
If Mrs. Trent had not so perfectly mastered the art of roasting, the young lieutenant might have kept his attention on the Princess instead of washing down a third helping of beef with an eighth glass of wine. If the temperature that night had not dropped six degrees in as many hours, the ice might not have formed in the drive, your portly friend might not have fallen, and the card game might not have been played. And if the sight of snow hadn’t prompted the footmen to build the fires so high, you might not have ended up on the terrace in the arms of the birthday girl—as a young Hussar returned his supper to the pasture from whence it came.
And what is more, thought the Count with a grave expression, all the sorry events that followed might never have come to pass. . . .
“What is this? Who are you?”
Turning from the window, the Count discovered a middle-aged couple standing in the doorway with the key to the suite in their hands.
“What are you doing here?” the husband demanded.
“I am . . . from the drapers,” the Count replied.
Turning back to the window, he took hold of the curtain and gave it a tug.
“Yes,” he said. “Everything seems in order.”
Then he doffed the cap he wasn’t wearing and escaped into the hall.
“Good evening, Vasily.”
“Oh. Good evening, Count Rostov.”
The Count gave the desk a delicate tap.
“Have you seen Nina about?”
“She is in the ballroom, I believe.”
“Ah. Just so.”
The Count was pleasantly surprised to hear that Nina was back in one of her old haunts. Now thirteen, Nina had all but given up her youthful pastimes in favor of books and professors. To have set aside her studies, there must have been quite an Assembly assembled.
But when the Count opened the door, there was no shuffling of chairs or pounding of podiums. Nina was sitting alone at a small table under the central chandelier. The Count noted that her hair was tucked behind her ears, an unfailing indication that something of significance was in the works. Sure enough, on the pad before her was a six by three grid, while on the table sat a set of scales, a measuring tape, and a sprinter’s watch.
“Greetings, my friend.”
“Oh, hello, Your Countship.”
“What, pray tell, are you up to?”
“We are preparing for an experiment.”
The Count looked around the ballroom.
“We?”
Nina pointed with her pencil to the balcony.
Looking up, the Count discovered a boy Nina’s age crouching in their old perch behind the balustrade. Simply though neatly dressed, the boy had wide eyes and an expression that was earnest and attentive. Along the balustrade were lined a series of objects of different shapes and sizes.
Nina made the introductions.
“Count Rostov, Boris. Boris, Count Rostov.”
“Good afternoon, Boris.”
“Good afternoon, sir.”
The Count turned back to Nina.
“What is the nature of this endeavor?”
“We intend to test the hypotheses of two renowned mathematicians in a single experiment. Specifically, we will be testing Newton’s calculation of the speed of gravity and Galileo’s principle that objects with different mass fall at an equivalent rate.”
From the balustrade, wide-eyed Boris nodded earnestly and attentively.
By way of illustration, Nina pointed her pencil to the first column of her grid, in which six objects were listed in ascending order of size.
“Where did you get the pineapple?”
“From the fruit bowl in the lobby,” Boris called down with enthusiasm.
Nina set down her pencil.
“Let’s start with the kopek, Boris. Remember to hold it precisely at the top of the balustrade, and drop it exactly when I tell you to do so.”
For a moment, the Count wondered if the height of the balcony was sufficient to measure the influence of mass on the descent of varying objects. After all, hadn’t Galileo climbed the Tower of Pisa when he executed his experiment? And