are a picture of loveliness,” said Commander Vittorio as he kissed her hand. “I’m so pleased that the gown I sent over suits you as well as I’d hoped.”
She smiled warmly at him. “A most generous gift, Commander. I thank you.”
“My dear lady, the only thanks I need is to see you wearing it on this most auspicious day.”
Sebastian’s mother turned back to him. “And don’t you look handsome, my son. If only your father were here to see you.”
Sebastian glanced over at Vittorio to see if he was offended by that statement, but the commander beamed broadly, as if it had nothing to do with him.
“Captain Portinari, man of the hour!”
General Zaniolo appeared, a glass of vodka in his left hand, a shy young woman half his age on his right arm.
“It’s good to see you, General,” said Sebastian.
“It’s nearly time for you to show off all that hard work you’ve been putting in this week,” said the general.
“Er… yes, I suppose it is…,” said Sebastian.
“Hard work, my darling?” asked his mother.
“General Zaniolo has been kind enough to give your son a quick introduction into the intricacies of courtly dance,” said Vittorio.
“Oh, how wonderful,” said his mother. “My thanks, General. I fear Sebastian had little instruction in such niceties as a boy.”
“That was readily apparent, my lady,” Zaniolo said cheerfully. “But between my vast knowledge and his sincere efforts, I think we’ve at least managed to guarantee he will not trip and fall headfirst into the cake.”
“No man can be master of all skills, my lady,” Vittorio said earnestly. “And as we all know, Captain Sebastian has a great many other talents.”
“Speaking of which,” said Zaniolo, “I’m curious to see how he fares at command. Have you assigned his unit yet?”
Vittorio shook his head. “As you know, the poor fellow has been absolutely beside himself with anticipation for this day, so I thought it best to wait until the engagement had been settled before throwing him into such a challenging and important role.”
Zaniolo nodded sagely. “As usual, Commander, your wisdom outshines us all.”
“Now, now, Savitri,” chided Vittorio. “If you keep up such lavish praise, I might begin to suspect that you are drunk.”
“Perish the thought, Commander,” said Zaniolo, then tipped his glass back and drank the remaining vodka in one gulp.
Vittorio sighed ruefully, like a father who is slightly disappointed in his son. But then he looked across the room, and suddenly smiled.
“Well, my boy. I believe it’s time.”
Sebastian followed the commander’s gaze and saw Galina standing on the other side of the crowd. She wore a sleeveless white lace gown with gloves that reached up to the elbow so that only her upper arms were bare. Her long, honey-colored hair, usually left free of all constraints, had been artfully braided and piled atop her head, which displayed her thin, graceful neck to great effect. Her large green eyes were fixed on his, as if nothing else in the whole world existed but him, and her delicate lips curved upward into a gentle smile. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.
Behind Galina stood Lady Prozorova, her expression one of absolute rapture, her cleavage nearly bursting out of the pale pink gown that contained it. Beside her stood Lord Prozorova, looking less aloof than usual. Sebastian might have imagined it, but there even seemed to be a slight smile on his lips.
Perhaps a signal had been given, or perhaps the connection between Sebastian and Galina was simply that palpable. Whichever it was, the chamber orchestra stopped playing, then the guests quieted down and parted to either side so that the space between him and his bride-to-be was clear.
“Forward march,” murmured Vittorio as he gave Sebastian a gentle but firm push.
Sebastian suddenly began to doubt his ability to walk in a normal fashion. It felt as though he tottered forward on stilts, his arms stiff at his sides. His mother and Commander Vittorio followed behind him. Galina and her parents also began to walk forward so that all six met in the center of the room.
Lord Prozorova began. “We thank you, Lady Portinari, for inviting us to partake in the generosity of your…” He paused and glanced around. “Home.” The words were part of the formal engagement ceremony, and apparently could not be changed to match the situation.
“We thank you, Lord and Lady Prozorova, for accepting our invitation,” Sebastian’s mother intoned. “I give my only son, Sebastian Turgenev Portinari, this ring, which is a symbol of our commitment