Our procession left in the middle of a spacious ballroom, at the very end of which, in tense expectation, embracing, two figures froze - a strict middle-aged man in a black velvet suit and a woman in a long burgundy dress.

- Finally! - waving her arms, a short plump brunette of about fifty in appearance, with her hands twisted by arthritis and a small hump, rushed towards us. Despite her health problems, her movements were cat-like soft and graceful, and her wide-set eyes shone with bright emeralds, and it became clear to me from whom Nantes inherited this deep green color of the iris.

But most importantly, such kindness,...