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nene, after she became helene

What do you think it would be like, living in Vienna, Duchess Helene?”

Nené took in a deep breath, and then, a miracle.  She actually smiled.  I could tell that inside her carefully tended head she had visions of grandness.

“When I am Empress,” she began, “I imagine that I’ll attend many affairs, dressed in gowns of velvet.  Brocade.  Silk.  I’ll have rosebuds woven into my hair.”

I looked at her simple brown morning dress.  It did, at least, have pearl buttons.

“But what about the Emperor,” I wanted to know.  “Will you be in love?”

Mummi burst in before my sister could answer, “Love, my daughters, is not the point.”

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