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Nemo thought she was magnificent.

Caroline drifted through the flower market, humming the melody of one of her secret compositions. Nemo recognized it, since he ofttimes lingered in the street outside her home, just listening to her play the pianoforte as the town sounds dwindled with the gathering dusk.

Late at night, he and Caroline had held long, but hushed, conversations from her window. He encouraged her to nurture her creativity. “You can do anything you set your mind to, Caroline, whether it be writing music, traveling the world, or running a shipping company.”

“But everyone says it’s impossible,” she had said, leaning over the windowsill.

“Those who believe in impossibilities prove themselves correct every day,” Nemo said. “You know better than that.” In those stolen hours and secret conversations, Nemo and Caroline had both dared to believe -- just a little -- in their waking dreams.

But now, for him, those dreams had been crushed under the boot heel of reality. All of his promises and reassurances to Caroline now seemed as empty and implausible as an old sailor’s stories about sea monsters.

Now in the flower market, he watched her sort through roses and magnolias, pansies and chrysanthemums, sniffing a few, shaking her head at others. Her maidservant was captivated by simple blossoms, daisies and hollyhocks. The two young women chatted, easy in each other’s company now that they were away from home.

Sensing his gaze, Caroline looked up and her vibrant eyes met his. She flashed a sudden smile that quickly changed to a look of concern. Nemo stepped forward, paying no heed to the people in the market, not hearing the bartering voices, not smelling the heady perfume of flowers. Caroline was as much beauty as he could handle at one time.

“André, I am so sorry about your father. But I believe I have good news for you.” She reached out to touch his arm with her delicate hand. “I have found a way to help.”

“I don’t want your money, Caroline,” he said. “Just your . . .” He stopped at the word “love.” He swallowed his pride. “I just want you to think about me.”

“Of course I will think about you, André. I remember the promises we made, under the trees --”

Nemo looked away. “Too much has changed, Caroline. I won’t hold you to unwise words spoken in haste.”

Caroline sniffed. At another time, she might have teased him. “I intend to do what I said, sir, and I expect you to do the same.”

Marie looked up in warning. “Your mother would not like you to be seen talking with him, Mademoiselle. And I know too well about a young man’s promises that aren’t strong enough to hold a snowflake.”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Then you should choose your young men with better care, Marie. My mother wouldn’t approve of some of your liaisons, either. I thought we had an understanding?” Her voice had a firm edge of command, and Nemo could see that someday she would indeed be able to run a shipping company with as much verve and vision as any man could.

She took Nemo’s arm in her own and nudged him to the left. “André and I are going to have some chocolats chauds in the café over there. You will be able to see us at all times, but we must have a private conversation.”

With her other hand, she touched the sleeve of Marie’s dress. “Go choose some flowers, but make certain to buy bouquets that I would select, so my mother believes we bought them together.” Caroline’s smile turned mischievous. “And perhaps you should also pick a carnation for whichever of your gentlemen friends kept you out until near dawn Tuesday last.”

Without waiting for Marie to agree or even to argue, she guided Nemo toward the small tables under colorful parasols. Dizzy with the warmth and the nearness of her, he pretended to lead the way. Nemo held the chair for her, and she signaled a waiter. “Two chocolats chauds, please. And some croissants. Do you have fresh marmalade?”

The waiter brought the two frothing cups made from steamed milk mixed with a bitter but delicious Mexican cocoa. Knowing that Nemo had no spare money, she withdrew a few sous and paid the