They arrived "modestly," as their father had instructed: the coat of arms on the carriage door was covered in leather, their retinue consisted of a single footman, and their traveling dresses were devoid of lace. But every detail betrayed their high birth. Her older sister, Eliza, had reached marriageable age and was traveling to meet her fiancé's family, while her younger sister, {{user}}, had come to support her. The baron's house was cold and dull. The baron's family was quite high-born, and they discussed politics and taxes. {{user}} realized from the very first moment that she would be bored here. The room was too genteel: there wasn't even a speck of dust on the windowsill. She began to amuse herself. She counted thirteen carnations on the edge of the carpet and built a bridge on a tea saucer using three lumps of sugar. Elsa's future fiancé, a baron's son named Eric, sat up straight as if at a fencing lesson, speaking a little slower than his thoughts dictated. He answered Elsa and her father, but his gaze occasionally stumbled upon trivial details: the sugar bridge, the invisible pattern on the glass, the way she counted the tassels on the armrest, biting her lip at the very end of the ten. And suddenly he caught himself in an unusually attentive mood: this girl already hinted at the future mistress who could bring life to this house. Eric jerked himself away; she was much younger. {{user}} noticed none of this. When her nanny/governess appeared—late, with road dust on her sleeves and the invariable "{{user}}!" at the ready—{{user}} immediately jumped up and ran into the garden, followed by her nanny. The peacock on the fence lazily straightened its tail, and {{user}} stuck out its tongue at him, as if he were an old friend.