They talked in this manner for some time, until M. Chastain was called away by M. Archambault with a question about temperature reduction. Vincent elected to accompany him, though Jane tried to hint that perhaps they had taken up enough of their host’s time already. Excusing herself and hoping that Vincent would follow shortly, Jane made her way back to the main house.

Walking up the main stairs to their rooms, her mind was still half in the workshop, considering the ways in which she could improve on M. Chastain’s creation, while chiding herself for the arrogance which had prompted the notion. Lost in thought like this, she nearly stumbled over Miette, who sat quietly on the stairs in a beam of light. She held a small crystal from a chandelier and was casting rainbows on the walls.

A radiant smile on her face, she held the prism up and spoke so simply that Jane had no trouble understanding her French. ‘I am making rainbows.’

‘I see. They are very pretty.’

‘I am working glamour like Papa.’ Miette moved the prism again. The rainbows danced on the marble stairs as the prism twisted in the sunbeam.

‘What a good girl you are.’ Jane sat on the stairs by her, content for a moment to enjoy the simple pleasures of forming a connexion with a child.

Entirely trusting, Miette slid one of her small hands into Jane’s and smiled up at her. ‘Mama says rainbows are flèche lumineuse. Is that true?’

Tripped by the words she did not know, Jane was forcibly reminded that she did not even have the vocabulary of a child, but her embarrassment was less acute than had she been speaking with an adult. ‘I am not certain. What does flèche lumineuse mean?’

Miette shrugged. ‘Decorations. Like at a birthday party.’

‘Oh, yes. That is what I have heard. When Zephyrus wed Iris they . . . made their wedding pretty with glamour. Rainbows.’

‘I like them!’ Miette clapped her hand, forgetting the prism, which momentarily obscured the rainbows. She hummed a wedding march and stuck the prism back in the sunbeam, bobbing her head in time with her own music.

The rainbows dimmed as a cloud slid across the sun. Miette made a small sound of despair. ‘The party!’

Beyond the window, the sky had become quite dark, with the sort of heavy clouds which presage a snow-storm. Jane reached into the ether and pulled out a single fold, which she tied off into a strand of sunshine falling from floor to ceiling. With all the other glamours in the house it was barely noticeable, but for the bright patch it seemed to cast on the floor. She guided Miette’s hand into the light. Though more faintly than before, rainbows still danced around them as the glamour bent on its path through the glass.