Her gloved hand touched Johannaâs fingers, which were still resting on her arm. She nodded. âA small nap would do me a world of good,â she said, âI donât know why, but I am truly exhausted. Thank you, Mademoiselle.â
A half-smile flickered over the Dutchwomanâs features. âThis is presumptuous, and perhaps I shall offend youâbut I would be honored if you called me by my given name. None of my employers ever has, and with you, I feel almost as thoughâif life had been different, and we had met as... as...â
Mathilde, the controlled, whose key to her emotions was never out of sight, was stirred by a swift, unexpected compassion. âI understand,â she murmured. Her voice was serene as always. But Johannaâs own voice broke, and she pressed Mathildeâs arm. âNobody ever does,â she said quickly, bending her lovely head and examining the ground. Mathilde, embarrassed, disengaged herself. But she said no more, and sailed toward the stairway to her compartment like an elegant liner moving calmly over the sea. She paused on the first step: âJohanna,â she said, and smiled.
When the children had been settled comfortably in their own car, adjoining their motherâs, Anna huddled near Titine but Sonia drew next to the beautiful lady who was their governess. Ossip, in his polite, well-modulated voice, so like his motherâs, said, âMademoiselle, in Russia people are not as they are in France. There is less formality. Friends say âtuâ at once, and instead of being called âMadameâ or âMonsieurâ or âMademoiselle,â well-bred people show respect simply by adding your fatherâs name to your own given name. The servants call my sister Sonia, âSofia Davidovna,â which is perfectly proper. âSoniaâ is only for family, or Titine. But âSofiaâ is her given name, and âDavidovnaâ means âdaughter of David.â What was your fatherâs name? We shall need to know, for our servants at home, and for people who come to visit with their own Mademoiselles.â
Johanna de Mey regarded the little boy with humor. âI see. But I thought everyone in Russia spoke French?â
âOh no, Mademoiselle,â Sonia piped up gravely. âOnly those who are most refined, like my Mama. But Mama and Papa know many people, and unless they are very, very close to us, we, the children, and sometimes even our parents, call them by their patronyms. They say, âBonjour, Anna Davidovna,â or other things in Frenchâbut the names are the Russian way. Ossip is right. And I have learned all about that!â She beamed at Johanna, who patted her curls.
âIn that case, I shall have to learn, too,â the governess said. âMy fatherâs name was Johan. That is âJeanâ in French. What would it be in Russian?â
âIt would be âIvan,â Mademoiselle,â Ossip said, coloring slightly. âI heard Mama call out your name beforeâJohannaâso you would be âJohanna Ivanovna.â That is very pretty,â he added, to hide his confusion.
âAnd you are very pretty, Mademoiselle,â Sonia stated.
Johanna de Mey began to laugh. âMy. my, what have we here? My first lesson in Russian custom, and a fine compliment! I shall have to reward you both. Let me see, now⦠Perhaps you would like to call me by a special name, just among us?â She glanced at Anna and the baby. âSomething only you four would call me. No more âMademoiselle,â for, as you say, everyone else has a Mademoiselle, too. âJohannaâ would be improper, for, after all, you are children and I am a lady, and it would seem disrespectful for you to call me by my name, the way you do Célestine, for example.â
âBut we donât call her that at all,â Anna broke in, her voice clear and somewhat sharp. âWe