Pure porcelain box ( 3,14 in ) with lid.
Melancholy ripples on the Grand Canal. The cupola of the Salute Basilica floats above the cloud, imbued with the scent of the open sea. The candlewax runs onto the high altar, and the vaults are obscured by incense. Faded velvet and flashes of crystal. Confined to the attics of her palace, the Contessa opens a cedar-wood trunk. Inside is a strip of shining silk.

Pure porcelain box ( 3,14 in ) with lid.
When the Maharaja left for Monaco in 1948, the crumbling palace was closed. Its marble rooms were nonetheless cleaned and polished every day, and its legendary rose gardens watered and cared for. A guard is still posted on the ramparts, watching over the winding entrance avenue, at the same time hoping to see a cloud of dust, raised by a procession on horseback.

Pure porcelain box ( 3,14 in ) with lid.
It is autumn. At the heart of a wood engulfed in mist stands the silhouette of a fantastic Gothic building, a “caprice”: it is Fox Thicket Folly. Inside, a large deserted room is illumined by the warm glow of the candles and the fire crackling in the hearth. There are piles and piles of books all around. Meanwhile, in the garden behind the house, the gardener has lit a bonfire. In this ancient woodland, something will happen tonight.