Pierre’s wife, Helene greeted them at the door of his house. “Ohh…” She said, “Vous êtes charmante. Tu t’appelles comment?” “What?” Alexander asked. “She’s asking what your name is,” Pierre said.
“ Alexander Hamilton ,” He said. “My name is Alexander Hamilton.” “Ohh....,” Helene replied. “Well, there is a new opera coming demain, tomorrow.” Perhaps you would enjoy seeing it with Dolokhov and myself.” Alexander nodded. “Alright.”
For the present, he would be occupied with the Bezukhov library. It would take a while for him to read everything he could get his hands on.
✰✰
The carriage was bigger than anything Alexander had ever ridden in. Not to say that the carts one rides in St. Croix are all that big. The seats were plush and red and actually comfortable to sit in. From what he had seen on the map on Pierre’s desk, the opera was a few blocks from their house. However, Helene stopped a bit before the halfway point between their house and the theater. She stepped out of the carriage and knocked on the front door of some house. A few minutes later, she came out with a man, who kissed her hand and started talking amiably with her in French. It didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on.
“Is my brother coming, Dolokhov?” she asked. The man Alexander presumed to be Dolokhov shrugged. “He’ll probably be late.” Alexander looked around to find the carriage driver gone. “Could you…” Helene began. Alexander nodded. Even though he didn’t know the next thing about carriage driving. No one said anything the rest of the walk towards his carriage. Hopefully the driver wasn’t drunk. At least the horses weren’t.
“Ohh…” She said, “Vous êtes charmante. Tu t’appelles comment?”
“What?” Alexander asked.
“She’s asking what your name is,” Pierre said.
“ Alexander Hamilton ,” He said. “My name is Alexander Hamilton.”
“Ohh....,” Helene replied. “Well, there is a new opera coming demain, tomorrow.” Perhaps you would enjoy seeing it with Dolokhov and myself.”
Alexander nodded. “Alright.”
For the present, he would be occupied with the Bezukhov library. It would take a while for him to read everything he could get his hands on.
✰✰
The carriage was bigger than anything Alexander had ever ridden in. Not to say that the carts one rides in St. Croix are all that big. The seats were plush and red and actually comfortable to sit in. From what he had seen on the map on Pierre’s desk, the opera was a few blocks from their house. However, Helene stopped a bit before the halfway point between their house and the theater. She stepped out of the carriage and knocked on the front door of some house.
A few minutes later, she came out with a man, who kissed her hand and started talking amiably with her in French. It didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on.
“Is my brother coming, Dolokhov?” she asked.
The man Alexander presumed to be Dolokhov shrugged. “He’ll probably be late.”
Alexander looked around to find the carriage driver gone.
“Could you…” Helene began.
Alexander nodded. Even though he didn’t know the next thing about carriage driving.
No one said anything the rest of the walk towards his carriage. Hopefully the driver wasn’t drunk. At least the horses weren’t.