little french thing;

with an ecstatic and artless smile,

[bourienne]

AN INDEPENDENT WRITING BLOG FOR MADAMOISELLE AMALIE KARLOVNA BOURIENNE OF TOLSTOY'S WAR AND PEACE,    WRITTEN BY MEG (SHE/THEY, 22, GMT).    LOW ACTIVITY, HEADCANON-BASED, SERIOUSLY SELECTIVE.    MUTUALS ONLY, MINORS DNI.        (    heavily affiliated with @vasilievna and @nahtushka.    )

¹  slides.    ²  sideblog.    ³  pinterest.

[karlovnas]

@bourienne . . .

it could not be said that life at bald hills suited the little princess. all the fears she had expressed that day before her husband and pierre had proved horribly justified. she had been told that this was how such things had to be in her condition, that it was absolutely necessary to keep her away from the excitement of petersburg, but she still could not understand why. her frustration and loneliness were suffocating. — of course, she loved princess marya with all her heart and she did her best to love the old prince, but it was in mademoiselle bourienne alone that she felt the companionship she had experienced within the society she loved.

she took the woman's hand in hers, smiling at her softly and tenderly, eyes full of sincere admiration. ❝ DEAREST AMALIE, YOU MUST KNOW THAT YOUR COMPANY HAS BEEN SUCH A JOY TO ME. MY LOVE FOR OUR MARIE KNOWS NO END, OF COURSE, BUT — YOU ARE SIMILAR TO ME IN SOME WAY, I THINK, THAT MASHA IS NOT. ❞

[bourienne]

‘‘    lise, ma choupinette!    ’’        the brightest of spirits makes itself known in her smile, and in the soft chirrup of her voice, only further highlighted when speaking in her native tongue. ‘‘    you are a breath of fresh air for us all, which you surely know, but i know that i feel especially grateful for your company.    ’’       eyes glitter with what goes unsaid, what they both are surely thinking but never would dare to voice, out of a sense of love and of duty, aloud. she grasps the little princess' hand in earnest, just as devout to her (if not moreso) as she is to the the old prince and his daughter.

amalie does not suppose she will ever know what drew lise meinen and andrei bolkonsky together, but what she does know is that she will be eternally grateful that such a pairing was made, for it allowed some life to be breathed into bald hills every now and again. ‘‘    petersburg's loss is sure to be our gain, my dear princess!    ’’

[bourienne]

vasilievna​.

the countess finds pleasure in the amazement clear upon amalie’s face. quite unfortunate, she once again finds it, that she should be so shut away, an enchanting thing stuck in a place even more remote than the rostov estate! of course, to the typical eye, the rostovs would seem not at all as approximate to    country - folk    as hélène found them, but she had a particular taste for the bustle of petersburg. the majority of moscow seemed distasteful to her          the idea of bald hills was simply horrifying. having met the charming mademoiselle, she now felt a sincere desire to save her from such terrible remoteness. she is not afraid to indicate as much, in her own way.

          ❝    I MUST TELL YOU, I ADMIRE YOUR STRENGTH, MY DARLING          TO LIVE SO FAR OUT IN THE COUNTRY! I COULD NOT DO IT.    ❞          she slides another disdainful glance at her husband, the expression passing before she speaks again.          ❝    MY    DEAR    PIERRE ASKED ME TO COME WITH HIM ONCE, TO VISIT HIS ESTATES, BUT …    ❞          she feigns bashfulness, cheeks effortlessly displaying a most delightful pink.          ❝    I FOUND IT JUST IMPOSSIBLE TO LEAVE THE CITY. I SIMPLY CANNOT FEEL COMFORTABLE ANYWHERE ELSE.          AND HOW DO YOU FIND IT, MADEMOISELLE? MOSCOW?    ❞

amalie seemed to charm her even more than she had anticipated, having assumed that any companion residing with those stuffy, boring bolkonskys would certainly pose no interest to her.          she still could not understand why the little princess lise, with all her charisma, decided on prince andrei.          yet this endearing girl was nothing like them at all! how could that dull princess marya appreciate the mademoiselle as she deserved? as only countess bezukhova could? yes, elena vassilievna was quite determined to have amalie all for herself. as any good hostess,    she wished to entertain.

                    ❝    OH!    ❞          her gloved hand slides down to grasp amalie’s hand within both of hers.          ❝    I MUST SEND YOU AWAY FOR JUST ONE DANCE. I HAVE THE PERFECT PARTNER FOR YOU. AH            ❞          in all her perfectly crafted glory, she had ordered one of her friends, as she called them, to be on standby. he was notably handsome  …  and, of course,    of nobility.          ❝    PRINCE KHILKOV!    ❞          she called, smiling good - naturedly, her hands never loosening their grip on amalie’s. as he approached, her smile only grew.          ❝    YOU MUST ACCOMPANY MY DEAR MADEMOISELLE AMALIA EVGENIEVNA FOR A DANCE.    ❞          as instructed, the prince agreed.

it simply would not do for the young mademoiselle to appear thankless for the charity so graciously bestowed upon her by the bolkonskys,  and so she tries to hide her utter agreement with what the countess says,  with little success.        ‘‘    it is not entirely unfamiliar to me,  the countryside    ...    ’’        that darling smile of her flickers only barely as she trails off,  eyes avoiding the side of the ballroom that princess marya (and count bezukhov, by association) occupies.  lyon may have been more remote than paris,  but nowhere could be more isolated than bald hills,  and amalie has struggled to come to terms with that fact for as long as she’s been there.

‘‘    oh,  it is so wonderful!    ’’        she gives a happy little cry,  eyes glittering with a girlish sort of glee,  as though the simple prospect of being among all these people has so uplifted her spirits.  and indeed,  it is her sincerest hope that the colour in her cheeks does not embarrass her too much.  not in front of yelena vassilievna,  a woman whom she so wants to earn the respect of,  and certainly not here,  one of her only opportunities to grasp at a reprieve from the ordinary suffocation of her life.        ‘‘    do you prefer moscow or saint petersburg,  countess?  i am afraid i can scarcely remember saint petersburg;  it was so long ago that i was last there.    ’’

A PRINCE!  why,  if only her dear old aunt,  qu'elle repose en pauvre paix,  could see her now.  arm-in-arm with a society beauty,  about to be introduced to the kind of people she ought to have known all along    ––    handsome,  and  noble,  and  wealthy,  and inclined to a romantic disposition if she’s at all fortunate,  though perhaps that’s a greedy requirement.  she ought be sufficiently happy with the first three, and she is.  (sufficiently happy,  that is.  more than,  even,  if such is possible.)  knees bend ever-so-slightly as she gives an acknowledging curtsy,  poised as it is polite,  and amalie finds herself immensely grateful that hélène is gripping her hand so tightly,  for she finds it grounds her immensely.

[bourienne]

i love she <3

[kathrynhoward]

LILY SACOFSKY as CLARA BRERETON

SANDITON (2019-)

[bourienne]

the becky sharp-ification of mlle bourienne––

[bourienne]

whatever u do don’t think about how bourienne is a frenchwoman in a country which is becoming rapidly anti-french. she has no independent means of support, she’s entirely dependent on the generosity of the bolkonskys (the old prince in particular), he’s becoming more and more erratic in his old age and so the likelihood of her being cast out into destitution at any minute unless she Cements her position with him … man i don’t understand ppl who hate bourienne

[bourienne]

independent and private mademoiselle amalie karlovna bourienne of tolstoy’s war and peace, written by meg.  low activity, book and headcanon based.  mutuals only, minors dni.  established september ‘22.

[bourienne]

vasilievna​.

@bourienne  …

the soft, unassuming smile so typical of the countess rests comfortably upon her lips as she slides a rounded arm around amalie’s, gently tugging her into a steady glide around the edges of the ballroom. it is unusual for hélène not to be dancing, with so many men requesting one of her, but there was a specific purpose for the evening:  the seduction of mademoiselle bourienne.

all events held by countess bezukhova were required to be extravagant, but none so much as this, held at her moscow estate. she had invited the most important of guests, the most skilled of musicians, the most gorgeous of evening gown  —  from paris,  quite notably.  there was the undeniable feeling of significance to this ball, the purpose of which was known to none but her. she very much wished to steal a certain frenchwoman away from the bolkonskys, having taken a particular interest in her from both her brother’s description of her and a certain prince’s apparent disdain for her, as overheard in conversation with her husband. hélène found her supposed naivety and romanticism endearing and wished to entertain such tendencies.

                    ❝    I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM YOU’VE ACCEPTED THE INVITATION TO MY LITTLE BALLROOM, MADEMOISELLE.    ❞          the ballroom in question was decidedly not little.         ❝    I DO HOPE PRINCESS MARYA SHOWED YOU MY NOTE  —  I ASKED FOR YOU SPECIFICALLY, DO YOU KNOW?    ❞          she slid her gaze over to the princess, conversing with count bezukhov and seeming quite uncomfortable with the environment she was within.         ❝    OF COURSE, I AM GLAD TO SEE THAT SHE IS IN ATTENDANCE AS WELL. QUITE SAD THAT THE PRINCE DECLINED …    ❞

hélène faced amalie once more, content smile turning to a brilliant one, eyes alight with a supposed excitement at her  treasured guest.          ❝    OH, PLEASE LET ME FIND YOU A PARTNER FOR A DANCE! BUT JUST ONE  —  I DO ENJOY YOUR COMPANY SO. I COULDN’T LET YOU PART FROM ME FOR LONG!    ❞

her eyes find hélène’s and she smiles,  buoyantly,  as though the hospitality displayed by the countess is the loveliest float for her to grab hold of in these,  the choppiest of seas.  while it is true that bald hills has its  ...  unconventional charms, amalie much prefers the glittering charm of moscow society,  and though she would never dare voice such a selfish and ungrateful sentiment,  she begins to think that she much prefers being arm-in-arm with the dazzling countess,  as opposed to trailing behind marya nikolaevna,  with her plain looks and thoughtful teariness.

‘‘    oh yes,  yes,  the princess was most ecstatic to read of your kind inclusion of me.  the goodwill that you both offer me is    ––    ben,  ç’est vraiment magnifique!    ’’        she speaks mellowly and rapidly,  guttural r’s and ornate grasseyement increasing with each word.  the frenchwoman was prone to fits of embellishment,  and if countess bezukhova were not aware of that before, she will soon learn;  indeed, the little princess for which amalie tends to was far from eager to attend,  and only accepted when she bore witness to her companion’s feverish chatter for the umpteenth time.

and as for the old prince!  perhaps they ought all consider themselves fortunate that he did not see fit to attend,  lest his temper flare or his sensibilities slip,  as they seem to do with increasing frequency these days.  bourienne may have as close to a magic touch as one can get when it comes to dealing with ‘the king of prussia’,  but even she has not a perfect rate of success.  besides, how is one supposed to find a prince to be married and carried off by when there is always a quarrelsome old custodian around?

‘‘    however could i turn down such a generous offer!  but i would not want to part from you for long either,  ma chère amie,  as i enjoy your company so as well!    ’’        how she gushes so affectionately,  relishing in the way they’ve linked arms,  how she appears to be a most special guest tonight.

[bourienne]

bonjour mademoiselle, je porte des lunettes de soleil, je veux me venger. merci beaucoup, je 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒍𝒆… oui oui baguette. bisous!

[bourienne]

that part in the book where we are told that sonya was speaking w bourienne … god what i would GIVE to hear that conversation!! two women without prospects, who have spent their lives on the other side of the glass, watching and dreaming of all the things that they’ll never get to have