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before you sang.
At that point, Ambassador Hagel and his wife moved through the crowd toward
us. Magnificent. Just magnificent. He was beaming from ear to ear, as well
he might, since the concert would certainly reflect well on him.
Drummond Kent was also beaming, and while they congratulated Llysette, I
slipped away to get her a glass of wine, and edged through the crowd to bring
it back to her.
Merci, mon cher, she murmured between thanking and responding to
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well-wishers.
Something caught my eye, and I turned. Despite the formal black and white, and
the red decoration with the silver starburst, I recognized the man who stood
at the end of the table that held various gourmet items neither Llysette nor I
had had time to sample.
He nodded.
I returned the nod, but had to wait for almost ten minutes while Llysette
dealt with well-wishers. In the meantime, Terese had drifted into sight from
somewhere, and she and Robert Thies were talking animatedly. I hadn't seen the
Black Mesa Quartet.
When there was a break, I touched her arm. Llysette, I'd like you to meet
someone.
Mais oui, mon cher. She turned.
I bowed to the man, smiling broadly. I'm Johan Eschbach, and this is my wife,
Llysette.
Dietre Fontaine, at your service. He bowed to me, and then more deeply to
Llysette. Your singing continues to enchant the world, mademoiselle.
The last name Dietre was using was different, but that wasn't a problem.
Dietre and I have run across each other a number of times over the past
years. He always shows up in surprising places. I turned to Dietre. What are
you doing these days?
I've been detailed to the New French embassy to offer my expertise in energy
matters . . . and others.
I have to offer my thanks for your last venture in that area.
I am glad all turned out well. He nodded to Llysette. Your singing was
without peer, and I am most glad to have been able to hear you once more in
person. You are far better than the disk from the Salt Palace would indicate,
and now the Russians will know that.
We sang what we hoped they would like.
They did most clearly. It is a pity that you were required to leave France
and go to Columbia. Some of us had so hoped you could have gone to New
France. Dietre smiled. As Johan knows, I am an elitist at heart.
Another man in formal dress with a blue ribbon and sunburst of some
sort appeared beside Dietre.
This is Marshal Gorofsky, Dietre offered. Of the Russian Imperial Air
Corps.
For now, at long last, you are popular in Columbia, mademoiselle. You would
always have been acclaimed and rewarded in Russia, Gorofsky said after
bowing.
I raised my eyebrows. Gorofsky had something in mind.
You are most kind, Llysette replied.
The great problem that the arts have always faced in countries where the
populace has too great a say in their funding is that what is funded must
reflect popular taste, and, as we in Russia know all too well, popular taste
is seldom excellent. Here, we show them what is excellent, and they are
grateful.
That was well said, and mostly true, even if aristocratically pompous. Do you
think that is true only in the arts, Marshal?
It is more obvious in arts, I submit, Minister Eschbach. Popularity is an
element in any system, even the most autocratic and regimented, because it is
so much easier to count heads or hands than to evaluate excellence.
Perhaps we should have some tea or a drink someday and discuss that and solve
the problems of the world.
It has many. Where does one begin? Gorofsky laughed. Perhaps we should,
when we have a long afternoon. He bowed to Llysette. You were magnificent. I
hope you will return, perhaps in the time of the white nights, so that you may
see Russia at its brightest as well, and so that we may hear you once more.
Llysette inclined her head.
And you, Minister Eschbach, I understand you now teach.
The economics, technical basis, and politics of the environmental and natural
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