Princess Pirouette couldn’t take her eyes off of the stained glass. To think that she had commissioned such a work of beauty was almost beyond her comprehension. For five years, starting at the age of only thirteen years, she’d been making payments, now the window was finally completed. She’d made certain that the saints depicted were women, and there they were: Saint Philomena with her anchor and the Blessed Mother herself. Right there above the altar was the result of her devotion. In a tiny corner of the window was an inscription bearing the words, “Commission by HRH Princess Pirouette,” along with the date of completion.
Kneeling at the altar rail, she’d been praying for at least an hour. An untold number of “Glory be’s,” “Our Father’s,” and “Holy Mary’s” had parted her lips and risen straight up to Heaven. Upon the third completion of the entire rosary, she concluded with the words, “And God bless the King, le comte des Deux Chats, Tata Sous-sus and dear Abigail.” As she rose, Pirouette was surprised at how stiff her legs and back had become from such an extended period of immobility. “And God bless me too!”