Letters from beyond - Тигрис Рафаэль

Robert wanted to see today. The intrigue was evident and not a single man would remain indifferent to her.

However, the evening was drawing to a close, but the alleged gentleman did not appear. Guys with bouquets of flowers appeared at the restaurant window at different times, but their objects of love soon joined them in the form of smartly dressed pretty girls, but the one who made the appointment for Monica did not appear.

Robert wanted to leave, but then a snub-nosed boy appeared outside the window with a bouquet of flowers. Unlike today's hippie-style youth, this was a neatly trimmed guy, with a clean-shaven face.

Robert looked at his watch. It was the ninth hour and the boy had already begun to get nervous, looking around endlessly. So he is Monica's chosen one, a young, still fragile man, probably a novice jewelry store manager, coveted a girl with luxurious jewelry. Probably a lot of such rich girls came to their salon, but it was Monica who answered him with a smile and agreed to the proposed date.

And take the guy and invite her to the most expensive restaurant in Paris. Well, just like that! If you want to immediately turn the head of the girl you like with expensive diamond jewelry, then you need to act intensely and dazzling from the very beginning.

Robert emptied his whiskey and told the waiter to invite this guy to his table.

At first the guy was surprised at the invitation, he refused, but then he went into the restaurant and sat down opposite Robert.

— Are you waiting for Monica?

— How do you know? Who are you?

He got excited and started looking around.

— Calm down, I won't hurt you. What is your name?

Robert's calm tone had a favorable effect on the guy.

— My name is Pierre. Do you know where Monica is?

— Pierre, Monica won't come.

— Why won't he come? How do you know? Who are you to her?

— Calm down Pierre. I am her boss. Today she was forced to fly back to America. So let's have a drink and wish her a soft landing.

Robert returned to the hotel pretty tipsy. Pierre was in the best condition and supported his drinking companion.

— Could you give me her address?

— Did you really like her?

— Highly.

— Tell me honestly, not because of the diamond trinkets?

— Not at all. She has a pure naive look.

— Good. I will give your address and if she likes you, she will definitely write. Everything. Now leave.

They approached the door of the hotel and the porter intercepted the guest from the hands of Pierre.

— Farewell, Pierre!

The morning train sped Robert to Nice. After yesterday's booze, he sat sullenly in the compartment and consoled himself with soda. His head was terribly cracking and very sick, and his mouth tasted like horse dung.

Yesterday they went over the whiskey, but they talked sincerely and he liked Pierre. Open minded guy. To be honest — a great match for Monica. It’s just that she’s gone, but he didn’t tell Pierre about this yesterday and did the right thing. May he live with unquenchable hope and love in his heart.

It was already late in the evening when the train arrived in Nice. Robert immediately went to the hotel and fell asleep.

— There’s a tombstone over there in that far corner. You can go there, monsieur, — said the porter of the orphanage, pointing Robert into the depths of the garden.

It was a bright sunny day and the orphans were playing merrily in the fresh air. At the sight of Robert, they began to look at him warily, and the most daring even approached closer, showing open curiosity.

— Don't be offended, monsieur. Any stranger who comes here is a potential parent for them. Such is the orphan's lot — to live with the eternal hope that they will be found.

Robert looked with pity at the destitute children and went deep into the garden.

"Niky from loving Malya" — was hollowed out on a stone slab, and below was the coat of arms of the Russian Empire — a double-headed eagle.

It was impossible to find a more charitable place than an orphanage for remembrance of an innocent person who died. Nicholas II himself was popularly called "bloody" and there were good reasons for that. During the celebrations on the occasion of his coronation on Khodynka field, one and a half thousand people died in a terrible stampede and the same number were maimed, and 130 civilians died during the execution of demonstrators during "Bloody Sunday". However, with his blood and the blood of his family, he atoned for past sins, and Kshesinskaya could not endure the fact that he had not yet been honored with the burial of this. As a result, this symbolic place arose.

The slab itself bore little resemblance to a tombstone. But one way or another, according to Kshesinskaya's letter, it was here that her jewels were located.

For Robert, the moment of truth was coming. Until that moment, he was a simple layman, surrounded by orphans, admiring the memorial plate of the last Russian tsar. But unlike the others, he knew what was under it and now it's up to him to decide whether to get the contents or not.

"It's someone else's, it's not mine," Robert said to himself.

He turned decisively and headed for the exit.

He had already reached the gate, when a red-haired girl of seven years old with a face covered with freckles came close to him and murmured:

— Uncle, you didn't come for me by any chance? If behind me, then why are you alone?

— Who else do you want me to be with?

— With my mom.

Robert's heart sank.

— What's your name baby?

— Rosie.

It was only then that he noticed that the girl was missing her right hand and almost half of her forearm. The orphan, in addition to everything,