Adventure Six: Boris and the Masquerade
Belamy understood the urgency of her situation, which was why she decided she would visit one more dream that very day. She was presently in her bedroom, kneeling on the hardwood floor in front of her blue-chalked wall. It was hard for her to conjure up precisely which dream would be best to explore first. She knew that she would return to the City of Gold to ask upon the Heroes; that would be easy. Similarly, she would return to the white town surrounded by forests, to search for the leader of Rowen's old tribe; that would not be quite as easy as the first task. But Belamy knew she would have to find more great cities and landscapes than these, and that still left her with many uncharted lands which she would have to explore before the week was out. This would be a most difficult task.
Nevertheless, Belamy was not wholly unprepared, and she pulled a little brown notebook out from under her bed. Since she had become a writer, something she had been for at least three years now, she had printed many of her dreams into this little notebook. As she turned through the pages, she noticed that her handwriting became smaller and neater over time, with less accompanying pictures. She read through each dream carefully, and marked her place in some, but she came across one from her middle writings, that she knew would have to be her first choice for a new adventure.
The dream read as such:
I walked up stares and stares, long stares like a muzeum, I had to take wide steps. At the top of the stares was a wide open ball room, open to the niht with stars in the sky. People were dancing and waring masks, all lions and birds and lots of people, and glowing in candles and shadoes all flying around. Behind the open ball room was a cassle with towers, and the cassle was so long that the towers and bridges and zigzaging walls stretched all the way to the shimery sea miles and miles away.
She admired her dream and thought that it was a perfect place to find a great ruler. Besides, a castle that stretched to the edge of a sea would make a most strategic fortress for an emperor, should he invade. Having also been reminded of this dream, Belamy could not wait to visit it again in daylight.
Belamy closed her little brown notebook, squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and crawled into her dream world. When she opened her eyes again, she was on the first step of the long, wide stairs that would take her to the ballroom, which was out of sight. The stairs were transparent in the light, and she could see straight through them and down into infinite starry space. The effect of the night sky under her feet made her slightly disoriented, especially since the sun was shining so merrily and naturally above her. She hopped from one step to the next, and at one point when she paused on a stair to judge how far she had left to go, a star fish swam curiously up to flick his scaly tongue against the other side of the transparent step she stood upon, as if trying to touch her foot through the glass. She looked down to watch him hover around her feet, before he grew bored and swam away into open space again.
Belamy heard the music of the ball before it came into view from her place on the stairs. She climbed for several more minutes and finally she could see the conical turrets of the castle, then the dripping candlesticks which hung from chandeliers (the chandeliers were strung on fine ropes which were stretched from one edge of the ballroom to the other because the ballroom was open-roofed).
A few feet more and she could see the dancers' masked heads. And finally, she saw the magnificent, starry dance floor. She paused to catch her breath, still a ways away from the ball, and watched all the people in their feathered and glittering faces, in their suits and flowing dresses. They were all in pairs and dancing to an orchestra, which was off to one side. The dance floor was made of the same transparent glass that the stairs were made of, and Belamy could see all the universe in it. Behind the ballroom, just as she had seen in her dream, loomed the grand castle, which shaded the dance floor from the bright, warm sun.
"Milady," a voice called. "Milady!"
Belamy drew her eyes from the dancers to see an usher in a black and white dinner suit, hurrying toward her.
"Is milady a party guest?" he asked when he had approached within talking distance.
"Yes," Belamy said simply.
"Then you may follow me to the washroom, where you may change into your mask and gown. This way, please."
The usher motioned for her to follow him, and they skirted around the dancers and through a door carved with cherubs and birds in flight. When the door shut, the music was immediately quieter, and they walked down a short velvet-lined hallway, past one door with the word Gentlemen across it, and to a door marked Ladies. The usher stopped in front of this door and Belamy stepped inside.
"Thank you," she said.
"Milady," the usher replied before the door shut between them. Belamy was not used to such talk, and was rather pleased.
The room was carpeted and very large. There were stalls for dressing against one wall, and sinks to wash, and mirrors to admire ones self in. But what Belamy was most delighted by was the rows and rows of beautiful ball gowns that lined the room, all hanging by size and color, and each displayed with its own matching mask. Belamy found her size, and began to search for a suitable gown.
There was one which was red that would trail to the floor on her, with the mask of a toucan. Belamy passed on this one. She did not want to call rude attention to herself. There was another which was sparkling green, with a black mask that would cover her eyes; this dress was quite a bit shorter than the first, and Belamy did not want to show off her rough playing knees.
She finally decided upon a floor-length pink gown, which shimmered, she imagined, like a fairy might. The lace underskirts made the dress very fluffy, and as soon as Belamy had shed her jumper and zipped herself up, she twirled around and around in front of a mirror to make the skirts fly out. This pleased her tremendously. Her sleeves were long enough to cover her elbows, which were equally as rough as her knees, and she was grateful for that. The accompanying mask was silver and in the shape of the face of a cat, with two rounded ears that sprang up on either side. She adjusted this to her face and peered at her reflection through the holes for her eyes. The mask formed around her nose and down her face, but left her mouth open so that she could breath and smile and of course bare her teeth like a lion.
When Belamy had sufficiently satisfied her examination of the new attire, she left the washroom and found that the usher in dinner dress was waiting just outside the door for her.
"I would kindly ask milady to follow me," he said in his manner. Belamy picked up her skirts so that she would not trip, and that was when the usher gave a polite gasp of astonishment.
"Milady, your shoes are quite unfit for the dance floor," he said. "Why, you will get streaks all across its perfect surface."
Belamy hid her play shoes under her skirts again, in shame. "I did not see any dance shoes in the washroom," she told the usher. He nodded knowingly, and opened a small door in the wall. From a hidden compartment, he removed a pretty box. When he opened it, tinkling music began to play, and Belamy could see a pair of silk ballet slippers within.
"Will these do?" the usher asked.
"Oh, yes, thank you," Belamy said. She balanced on one foot, and then the other, to remove her child's shoes. The usher put them in the box, and Belamy pulled the slippers onto her feet. "Yes," she said, spinning once to test them. "These are perfect for dancing. I am quite a lady."
Belamy was led back into the ballroom, where the usher disappeared and she was left to herself to watch the colorfully masked people gliding along with the music of the symphony. Occasionally a shooting star would pass underneath a person's foot, and she noticed that they would not show the slightest attention to it.
If I were dancing above a shooting star, she thought, I would at least appreciate its effort to remain in motion. She knew, of course, that most stars liked to spin in stationary.
She began to twirl, looking at her slippered feet and the stars below, in hopes that one would shoot her way.
"Why do you dance alone?" someone asked, whose voice was very near by. Belamy looked up from the floor and found that she had twirled straight toward the orchestra. She was standing next to one of the sitting musicians who was all in black formal, and had a purple cravat tucked into his waistcoat. He wore a deep purple billy goat's mask over his face, with horns that curled back over his head and around to his ears.
"Why, that is a violin!" Belamy said, indicating the instrument he held. "You must be a violinist."
"That occupation would be a correct assumption," he answered her, "assuming that the instrument I hold is indeed a violin."
"Well, it is small, red, and stringed," Belamy said. "And you are holding a bow. I have been to see the orchestra before, and I know that is what a violin looks like. What else could that instrument be?"
"It could be a viola," the musician said.
"What is a viola?"
"A much neglected brother of the violin," said the musician.
"Then you are a violist." The word sounded funny coming out of her mouth.
"Unfortunately for you, I suppose, but I quite enjoy it," the musician said.
"No, I also enjoy it," she insisted, attempting to be agreeable. The musician laughed.
"I like your mask," he told her.
"I like yours," she said, and she was not just attempting to be agreeable.
"Would you like a dancing partner?" he asked.
"Yes."
The violist rose, and with the accompaniment of his fellow musicians, the two of them danced across the starry floor, silver cat and purple goat.
"My name is Boris," the violist said, holding Belamy's hand as they danced.
"Mine is Belamy. I am on my way to meet the ruler of this place, if there is one."
"There is one. A king; I am employed under him," Boris told her, spinning her with the sound of the strings. "I could show you where he lives. One could become lost fairly easily in his castle."
"I would like that," Belamy said.
The piece ended and the dancers applauded one another. Belamy applauded Boris, the violist. He bowed to her. Before he rose back to his full height, however, he lifted his mask and bravely kissed her.
Now, kissing, for Belamy, was something reserved specially for her mother, and never on the lips. Which is why, after Boris did such a thing, Belamy cringed away and wiped her mouth in a very unladylike fashion. This must have been the first sign of her age because Boris's face turned from hurt to horror before she even lifted her own mask to reveal that she was only a child.
"What did you do that for?" Belamy asked him, politely shocked.
Boris sputtered. "I thought you were a lady," he said in his defense.
"I am not so much a lady," she told him, but mostly she decided this for herself.
"I am deeply ashamed," the violist admitted. "I should not have done such a foolish thing."
"It was bold of you," Belamy offered as a consolation, but there was no consoling him. He placed his goat's mask back over his face and slunk to his chair with the other musicians.
Belamy was not particularly daunted by this whole ordeal, and was rather inclined to tell Boris so; but it was incredibly hard to try to catch the man's eye, especially since it was under a mask. Thus she realized that she would have no guide once she was inside the castle, a fact that did not really trouble her because she was determined to find the king at all costs.
Belamy did not dance any longer, or trouble herself with the shamed violist, but set her eyes on a large pair of double doors at the back of the starry ballroom. These most certainly would lead her to the castle.
She pattered across the floor and cracked open one of the heavy doors, with difficulty. This is where she discovered that the adjoining castle might deliver its share of trouble, after all.
What lay beyond the door, was radically different from what she would be leaving behind. While the ballroom was full of light and sparkling masks and the twinkling beauty of glass floor, the chamber beyond was dull stone and dark, and there was a chilly breeze that rustled Belamy's curls as it flowed into the ballroom. Because she didn't want the breeze to disturb the dancers, she quickly squeezed through the door, and stepped from the starry floor onto uneven rock. She could feel the chill of the ground through her ballerina slippers, and she curled her toes as she looked around the chamber.
She could still faintly hear the music of the masquerade at her back, but there was no body in this place, and all she could hear was the echo of dripping water coming from far away. She found that she was not in the true chamber, in fact, but a balcony. There was a stone rail a few feet in front of her, and spiral staircases that led down into the chamber on either side. She approached the railing and peered over it and down onto the lower storey.
What she saw were mazelike twists and turns, high-walled hallways that led to nowhere, several spiral staircases that curled up and up, higher than her balcony, so high she could not see where they led (probably to towers), and a large door. This door was situated at the very end of the chamber, and Belamy supposed it would lead her through the interior of the castle which stretched toward the sea. Shivering, she hoped that the next room would be a bit warmer, and perhaps contain a window or two.
Belamy scouted a most direct route to the door, and descended the winding stone steps. By the time she reached the ground floor, however, she was completely turned around. She looked for the first landmark of her planned route (a staircase enclosed by two perpendicular walls) but everything appeared much different from the bottom. She lifted her cat's mask so as to see. There was a staircase in front of her, but there were no walls surrounding it; there were two perpendicular walls, but they did not enclose a staircase; there were two long, tall walls that made for a hallway, which she thought had led to a dead end from up high, but now they appeared to lead straight to the door at the end of the chamber.
These must be different walls from those I saw, she thought, and she took off down the hallway. The further she walked, though, the less the door looked like a door. By the time she reached the end of the hall, she realized that the door was only a carving.
"Dead end," she said aloud. Her voice echoed around her. She touched the cold carving and wondered how she could have ever thought it was a real door.
It must be the light, she thought, or the lack thereof. She then contended to stick to her original plan, no matter how strange it seemed now; this place was, indeed, a maze.
She turned around to leave back down the hallway, but she was suddenly faced with a problem. Where there should have been a staircase at the other end (the one from which she had descended the balcony) there was open space and two perpendicular walls off to one side, where there hadn't been before, at least not from where she had been standing from the foot of the stairs.
When she reached the open space at the end of the hallway, she looked around in all directions. There were the two walls to the left, but no staircase that led to the balcony. There was the hallway behind her, and that did not change for the moment, but she was unsure of what would happen if she left this behind. At the very end of the chamber she could see a staircase, but she was positive it was not the one she had taken from the balcony, because it was too far away. Everything started to look the same, all dimly-lit and gray. She found herself completely lost. She could not even hear the music of the ballroom anymore.
But she did not lose hope so quickly. Since the 'door' at the end of the hallway had been, in fact, a carving, perhaps one of the walls was, in fact, a door. Using this logic, she approached the two walls to her left and began to scour them thoroughly with her hands. The first was really a wall, but the second was only half wall. As she felt every rough bump and sharp corner, her hands suddenly swung the second wall open; it was an illusion! She discovered that the door was positioned in such a way that it seemed solid and immovable. When she had opened the half-wall, she found a staircase. She climbed it and found that she was back at her balcony.
I will be more careful on this second try, she thought, and she found her route from up high once again, and vowed to keep it in her mind as she walked down the stairs a second time. An idea came to her then, as she turned round and round and felt that she would soon again become disoriented; it was not the room that had tricked her, but her eyes. She thought that if she only closed her eyes, she would be able to find her way through the maze.
With her map in mind, Belamy squeezed her eyes shut and grasped the stone stair rail tightly. She felt every cold bump under her fingers as she descended slowly, and finally, when the rail was no longer under her hand, she knew she had come to the bottom of the stairs. Patiently, blindly, she walked with her hands before her, and paced carefully through hallways and avoided jutting staircases which she felt with her hands. At last she touched a carved, glossy obstruction, and she opened her eyes to see that she stood directly before the door.
"I have won this room," she said aloud, in case the room had not been paying attention. She twisted a large bronze doorknob that her hand did not curl all the way round, and pushed the door wide to reveal a tremendously long, carpeted hallway. On the right side of the hallway were rows and rows of doors that stretched all the way to the end. On the left side of the hallway were tall windows that let the warm sun stream in all the way to the end. It was eerie in its majestic silence, as if there should have been many more people traveling her way.
Belamy felt that she should be quiet, and she closed the door behind her slowly. She walked up to one of the many windows, pressed her face against the glass, and peered outside. She was staring down at a sea port, perhaps two stories below. There were many ships traveling in and out of the port, and more than one tall mast grazed past, just outside her window. Staring across the port, which was narrow and private to the castle, was an identical row of windows set across an identical long hallway to hers.
If Belamy looked very carefully, she could see the carpeted floor of the hallway on the other side. If she craned her neck to look up, she could see that the whole adjacent wall of the castle was tall and turreted, and many windows of different sizes and shapes speckled the smooth stone walls. If she glanced to the left, she could see that her hallway and the hallway across from hers were conjoined by a raised walkway that was supported by a large arch. Beneath this was a waterway that smaller ships were disappearing through, to the other side. This led to where Belamy did not know, since that must have been the direction of the ballroom, and the ballroom was sitting on the universe, and not water. Finally, if she peered to the right, toward the open ocean, she could see the sun glancing off the foaming turquoise waves and a bit of a white beach. Only a sliver of it visible from her angle, and the rest of the castle was also hidden from view.
She decided to keep following her long hallway and see where it led her. She took her face from the window (smudged with the fog of her breath), and began to walk. Her slippered feet made small pats on the carpeted floor, which was the only sound she could hear. She pulled her silver cat's mask back over her face and pretended she was a noble. Her steps were sharp and purposeful. She held her head high and straight.
"Princess!" an old voice echoed down the hall. Belamy turned about in a sharp, noble fashion. One of the many doors already behind her was now ajar, and an ancient fellow with delicately combed white hair was standing before it. He had a perfectly trimmed moustache, and his whole demeanor was stiff and knightly.
"Princess," he called again, and he hurried toward Belamy and took hold of her arm. "I have been looking for you for ages! My dear, if you wanted to go to the ball why didn't you just say so? Now, I must escort you to the throne room immediately. You are late for your appointment with the king already, and you know how it tests his temper when you are late." As he spoke, he led Belamy through the door he had come through, and she did not protest. He was, after all, taking her exactly where she wished to go. She only had to remain silent and walk in her noble manner, and hope that the true princess was not found before she could speak with the king.
She was led down several hallways and through many doors and up and down many staircases. She would never have found the way on her own, but this man seemed to have the entire castle in memory. As they walked, he never stopped talking to her, and most of it was advice or warnings. She had a feeling that the real princess was not too well-behaved.
"--And please remember to address him as Your Majesty. He has told me on countless occasions how much he is bothered by your greeting of Hello King, and without a following Reginald, no less! Quite impolite, I must agree. It is no way for a princess to behave, and you know how important it is for our families to remain on good terms. Don't you want to be queen?"
Belamy nodded once. This speech was of great interest to her.
"Well, I suppose there is no stopping it. Unless you are rotten to your most inner seed, the king would not call this off. Personally, I believe that this marriage is just as important for him as it is for us. All right, then." He stopped in front of a great door. "Off you go. I will be in the waiting room when your appointment is over." The old man creaked the door open and Belamy passed under his arm and into a throne room.
This one was not as infinite as the Emperor Milo's, but it was rich and very beautiful. There were Persian rugs underfoot, and skylights, and a small atrium beyond a row of pillars off to one side. There was a reflection pool just in front of her, which was split down the middle by a red-carpeted walkway, and the thrones were set at the end of this. The king was sitting in the left-hand throne. The right-hand throne remained empty. He wore a tall golden crown, and his face was covered in a dark, kingly beard. He was draped in a cape, and he looked much at home among all the beautiful things in this room.
Belamy was glad for her fine pink dress, which had helped her to appear royal. She was glad for her silver mask, which had allowed her to be mistaken for someone she was not. And she was glad for her slippers, which were much nobler than a pair of child's play shoes.
She approached the king and curtsied extravagantly. The king waved his hand in the manner of a bow. Belamy stood from her curtsey.
"Your Majesty," she said.
"Princess Genevieve." His voice was as kingly as his beard.
"No," Belamy said. It was time to end her charade. She pulled her cat's mask from her face to reveal herself. "My name is Belamy. I have come to tell you that your kingdom may be in great danger. There is an emperor who is planning to invade many lands, and this may be one of them. I am gathering together rulers from several kingdoms, so we can decide what we must do to stop him. Will you help me, King Reginald?"
The king was silent throughout this speech, and for several seconds afterwards. Belamy thought that he must be thinking about this proposition, but what he finally said was not what she expected.
"What is your purpose in disrupting our peace?" he asked her. "There are no other lands beyond this one. There are no other kings. I know what you want. You want to assassinate me and take control of my kingdom. Well, be gone, little assassin!"
"I am a what?" Belamy asked him, very confused.
"You cannot deny it. I am clever and can see right through your facade. Just as you have deceived me by pretending to be the princess, you are also deceiving me by pretending to be a wise little girl. There are no wise little girls; only little assassins. Assassin!"
With this said, the king hurled himself from his throne and ran past Belamy and down the red carpet. He charged across the room with his cape billowing regally behind him, threw open the door, and cried: "Assassin! Assassin! Guards! Imposter!"
He turned around to glare at Belamy, who was coming toward the door, angrily.
"What have you done with Princess Genevieve?" the king asked.
"I-"
"No, on second thought, don't tell me. I do not want you to go into gruesome detail on this matter. My guards will soon be through with you, little assassin."
"I am not an assats... assassin!" Belamy objected.
"You are a liar. A small lying assassin."
"King Reginald, you are a coward," she told him. "I know a violist who is braver than you. I am still determined to save your beautiful kingdom, so now I will have to go to a violist for help. I hope you are embarrassed."
The king was taken aback. "I am, slightly," he confessed. "But I have made up my mind, and do not trust you. My guards will be here any second."
"Let me pass, King Reginald. Give me a fair start," Belamy said.
"I am not a fool, little assassin. Why would I let you escape?"
"I could assassinide you right here," she threatened, shaking a fist in his direction. The king hopped back from the door and Belamy’s fist, and Belamy rushed through before it could close. She began to run, and the king was at the door again, shouting.
"Guards!" His voice echoed down the hall. "Assassin!"
There was a lumbering of footsteps from the other end of the hall, growing louder, and Belamy tried to remember how she had come to this place. She opened a door and flew through it, only to bump into the ancient old fellow who had led her this way in the first place.
"Help me," she said. "The king grew angry and now he has sent his guards after me. Please, take me back to the hall where you found me. He is convinced that I am an assassin."
"Why, you are not the princess at all," the old man said. "But if you are an assassin, then I am a gladiator. Follow me."
They hurried through all of the rooms, up all of the staircases, and down all the hallways that had led them to the throne room. As fast as they wound about the place, though, they could not distance themselves from the rumbling of footsteps that grew louder every moment, catching up to them. The guards were almost at their heels.
At last they were back in the familiar hallway that looked down on the port. Belamy hurriedly thanked the old man.
“I can go on alone from here,” Belamy told him.
"I am worried you will get caught," the man said. He was a true noble.
"Please, do not worry," Belamy said. "I am certain I will be able to escape. Thank you for all of your help. You have saved my life."
"It was my duty, young lady. Fly quickly." And he disappeared through another door.
Now the old man was safe, but the footsteps of the guards were louder than ever. She raced down the hall and was just pulling open the door to the maze when the king's men burst into the passageway. Belamy pushed her silver mask over her face and turned to them. They stood about halfway down the long hall.
The guards were in matching red uniforms, all wearing red caps, and red shoes. All were carrying shiny silver swords at their belts.
"Halt," the captain commanded. Belamy could see that he was the captain because his hat had a black feather protruding from it. This was supposed to distinguish him as important, but the feather tended to droop to one side and tickle inside his ear, which caused him to twitch in a most uncaptainly manner. He made one of these twitches now.
"By order of the king, you are to be arrested for attempted assassination," the captain said, formally. He pointed his sword in Belamy's direction.
"But I am the Princess Genevieve," she said, in her most fearful and innocent voice. The fear was not entirely fabricated.
The captain sized up the small girl, uneasily. "You are an assassin. The king has told us so."
"That is just a little girl,” a man piped up from the crowd of guards. “Look, captain!"
"Quiet, you," the captain growled, but he was beginning to doubt the king's orders now that he had eyes upon Belamy. The feather of his hat drooped into his ear, and he twitched again. His sword lowered slightly.
Belamy took this chance to pull the door open, and as she did so, the guards lunged foward. She was able to widen the heavy door just enough so that she could slip through and she remembered to close her eyes as soon as she was in the dank, dark room.
It would be harder to go the course backwards, she knew. But she hoped that the guards would not know the way through this maze. She also hoped that the maze would shield her as she traced her path back to the ballroom.
Moving quickly, she made a few errors. She bumped into two walls before the guards had lumbered all the way down the hall and had thrown the door wide open. Belamy could not risk glancing behind her, because she had to focus on her mental map. She was very frightened, but blind, she had to trust her mind.
"Halt," the captain of the guards ordered again. He sounded very close behind her, but if Belamy's map was correct, there was now a wall between them. She weaved around the room, and finally bumped her foot into the bottom step of the spiral staircase that had originally taken her down into this chamber. She opened her eyes and climbed the stairs. When she reached the top, she risked a look down into the chamber from her balcony. She could see the guards, all split up, wandering in all directions throughout the maze. One man was pushing his hands against a dead-end that looked like a door, another man was scouting his position from one of the many staircases, and another crashed headlong into a wall. The captain was still shouting orders, and Belamy could see that he was furiously running his hands along all the walls, as he had boxed himself somewhere, and he pulled out his sword and began to wield it wildly.
This did not go exactly as I had planned, Belamy thought.
She turned away from the maze and went back into the ballroom.
Everything was just as she had left it. The dancers were still spinning wonderfully across the starry floor, all in the best of spirits. The orchestra was playing an entrancing waltz, and Belamy spotted Boris, the violist, among them. She walked to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Yes?-- ah, it's you," Boris said. He placed his viola in his lap.
"Yes, Boris. Listen," Belamy said. "I know you are still ashamed for kissing me, but I know a way that you can make up for it."
"Anything," he said, bravely.
"I need you to come with me to a meeting, as a representative of this land. The meeting will be between the men of many kingdoms, and there we will discuss a matter of great importance. There is an emperor, you see, who seeks to control every land. I need you to help me decide what to do."
"I did not know there were other lands," Boris said simply. "But there is a lot that I do not know. I am just a violist. But if you think that I can help, then I will try."
"Thank you," Belamy said. "The meeting is in five days. I will be back here then to call on you."
"Very well," said the violist. And that was that. Belamy was disappointed that she had failed to convince the king to come with her, but a cowardly king would be no good representative of this world, anyway. The violist had determination, and his mind was open to new things.
And besides, she thought, although I could not convince the king of this world to come with me, I am more experienced now, and will be able to convince the kings of the other lands.
Now that she thought about it, she felt that she had not gone about discussing the matter with King Reginald as well as she had hoped. With this in mind, she bade Boris farewell, went back to the dressing room to exchange her ball gown for her ordinary clothes, and crawled back through the chalk-lined wall into her bedroom. She was particularly unhappy that she had to give up her ballerina slippers, but she knew that she would be coming back for them in a few days. Now, tired from her adventure, and it being early afternoon already, Belamy went downstairs to join her mother for a quiet lunch.
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