She seemed tiny and appeared fragile to him, but in fact after hours of talking to her, he knew that she was spirited and more than capable of defending her ideas. She had strong opinions about many things, and so far he agreed with most of them. And the ones he didn't agree with amused him. There was nothing boring about her. He found her incredibly exciting and breathtakingly beautiful. All he knew was that he had to see her again.

“Do you suppose your mother would allow you to have lunch with me tomorrow?” He looked hopeful, as he longed to touch her hand but didn't dare. Even more, he would have loved to touch her face. She had exquisite skin.

“I'm not sure,” Beata said honestly. It was going to be difficult to explain how they met, and the fact that they had spent so much time together, chatting, without a chaperone. But nothing untoward had happened, and he was unfailingly polite and obviously well-born. There was nothing they could object to, except the fact that he was French, which was admittedly inconvenient at the moment. But this was Switzerland, after all. It wasn't like meeting him at home. And just because their countries were enemies didn't mean he was a bad man. But she wasn't sure her mother would see it that way, in fact she was almost positive she wouldn't, since her brothers were participating in a war against the French and could be killed by them at any moment. Her parents were rigidly patriotic and not necessarily famous for their open minds, as she knew well, and Antoine feared. Beata was also aware that if he presented himself as a suitor, her family would consider him ineligible because he was obviously not Jewish. But worrying about that seemed premature.

“Perhaps your mother and sister would join us for lunch, too?” he asked hopefully. He had no intention of giving up. A war seemed like a small obstacle to him at this point. Beata was too wonderful and magical to lose over something like that.