Human vision was easily influenced by appearances, whether objectively or subjectively. Machines were not.
There was a game where a group of people stood in a line. The person behind drew something on the back of the person in front, who then drew it on the back of the next person according to what they felt. By the time it reached the last person, the resulting picture was usually vastly different from the original.
If possible, Georgiana would rather install a camera. It might mean less privacy, but at least no one would embellish their reports to her.
When she came down from the room in the former hotel, Chevigny had unexpectedly arrived. Under her husband's watchful care, she was dancing ballet in the "lobby."
Though she was past the golden age for a ballerina, her posture and movements were still graceful, only lacking the sense of power Miss Campini possessed.
The music from next door accompanied her, and this hotel was not far from the Comédie-Française.
Georgiana could not appreciate ballet, but that did not stop her from watching Chevigny while thinking about her own affairs.
Louis XIV had left his mark on France, and indeed on the whole world. His splendor made him dazzling, leaving an "impression" on visitors like a seal pressed into wax.
His life had been like a grand play, and Versailles was the "great setting" he had built for himself.
Georgiana did not think she could live alone in such a large hotel. When Bonaparte had spoken just now, his voice had echoed everywhere. It sounded far too empty.
That was why the princess next door had hired so many servants, to keep them gathered around her.
But that was not the life Georgiana wanted.
She came downstairs with her arm linked through Bonaparte's.