I LOOK OUT THE WINDOW OF THE Council Chamber, and everything is white: the benches, the fountains, even the trees. My son is outside with Sigi, so his tutor can explain the origin of ice. In three months, Franz will be two years old. Monsieur Laurent tells me that he already has a few hundred words, including garden and paint.Behind me, the Duc de Feltre clears his throat. “Is Your Majesty ready?”The daily meeting of the Regency Council is set to begin, and the men at the table are waiting on me. I glance one last time at the winter gardens. “Yes, I am ready.”I follow my husband’s Minister of War to the long council table and take my place in the emperor’s seat. In this chair, with its soft velvet arms and padded back, I learned of the deaths of nearly half a million men. Some died of the war plague, others of starvation, but most of them were blown to pieces in battle. And when all of it was done, and Moscow was burned to the ground, the wreckage belonged to my husband.He waited five weeks to hear from the czar.
