of an unfriendly vessel on the horizon, then you must at once toss this over the side. Better to commit my words to the waves than to have them read by the wrong eyes.”
“Yes, Madame, I understand entirely.” He bowed, and tucked the letters into the leather pouch he’d carried with him. “You may rely on me to deliver these to His Majesty, and no other.”
“It won’t be an easy journey for you, abbé,” she warned. “You’ll learn soon enough. I fear that, from ignorance, most common Englishmen will despise anyone of our faith.”
“God will give me strength, Madame,” he murmured, making the sign of the cross.
“May He guide you throughout your travels,” she answered fervently. Ready to bid him farewell, she awkwardly pushed herself from her chair, and I was quick to take her arm to steady her. She was five months gone now, and she’d weakened as the child within her grew, the heaviness making her clumsy and unbalanced.
“If you’ll permit me, Madame, I also addressed that other matter you’d requested of me.” He presented a folded sheet to Madame. “For the young lady, Madame.”
“Of course!” Madame exclaimed. “How could I have forgotten? Mademoiselle, this is for you. I asked the abbé to cast your horoscope. I thought you might be amused to learn what the starry portents say of your future.”
She passed the sheet to me, and I opened it slowly, not certain that I wished to know my life’s future, or that foretelling it in this manner was entirely proper, either.
“Come, Louise, don’t keep it to yourself,” Madame said with all the eagerness I lacked. “Tell me what predictions the stars make for you.”
With no choice, I forced myself to read it, scanning quickly first for ill tidings, then more slowly again, yet neither time did I find much sense to it.
“Forgive me, Madame, but it would seem to be more riddle than fortune,” I said, offering the most succinct portions of the horoscope. “I’m to inspire great love yet also great hatred. I’m to become a duchess and the mother of a duke, but without ever being a wedded wife, as well as a queen among kings, but without a crown of my own. I don’t begin to know what to make of that.”
“Nor do I,” Madame said, clearly disappointed. “That’s no fortune at all.”
“Such astrological contradictions are not uncommon, Madame,” the abbé said solemnly. “There are the occasional birth dates that present a seeming puzzle, only to reveal their truths over time.”
“I’m very sorry that Mademoiselle de Keroualle’s was one of those,” Madame said. “I’d wanted you to assure her she’d soon find a worthy gentleman who’d give her love and contentment in a happy marriage, not this foolishness about kings and great hatred.”
“It’s of no importance, Madame,” I said gently. “Good fortune or foolish, I wouldn’t worry overmuch on what the moon will predict for me.”
Yet I could not put aside the curious words myself, turning them over and over in my thoughts as I tried to find their meaning. Still they made no sense, and at last I ordered myself to dismiss the abbé’s horoscope as a testimony to idleness, the work of a flattering charlatan and no more.
Only later, much later, did I come to realize the truth in his words, for they were revealed in time to mean exactly what they said.
We all gave much thought to babies that spring. As Madame’s time grew closer, her mood grew more somber as she focused her dwindling energy upon the coming babe. She was often in pain, and came to rely especially on costly potions drawn from Chinese poppy flowers to ease her suffering. Never strong, she feared the ordeal of childbirth, and did more to prepare her soul than in arranging matters for the child.
Because we maids of honor were all unwed and innocent (by rule if not by practice), we were not party to Madame’s conferences with the midwives and surgeons, nor would we be included as witnesses to
“Yes, Madame, I understand entirely.” He bowed, and tucked the letters into the leather pouch he’d carried with him. “You may rely on me to deliver these to His Majesty, and no other.”
“It won’t be an easy journey for you, abbé,” she warned. “You’ll learn soon enough. I fear that, from ignorance, most common Englishmen will despise anyone of our faith.”
“God will give me strength, Madame,” he murmured, making the sign of the cross.
“May He guide you throughout your travels,” she answered fervently. Ready to bid him farewell, she awkwardly pushed herself from her chair, and I was quick to take her arm to steady her. She was five months gone now, and she’d weakened as the child within her grew, the heaviness making her clumsy and unbalanced.
“If you’ll permit me, Madame, I also addressed that other matter you’d requested of me.” He presented a folded sheet to Madame. “For the young lady, Madame.”
“Of course!” Madame exclaimed. “How could I have forgotten? Mademoiselle, this is for you. I asked the abbé to cast your horoscope. I thought you might be amused to learn what the starry portents say of your future.”
She passed the sheet to me, and I opened it slowly, not certain that I wished to know my life’s future, or that foretelling it in this manner was entirely proper, either.
“Come, Louise, don’t keep it to yourself,” Madame said with all the eagerness I lacked. “Tell me what predictions the stars make for you.”
With no choice, I forced myself to read it, scanning quickly first for ill tidings, then more slowly again, yet neither time did I find much sense to it.
“Forgive me, Madame, but it would seem to be more riddle than fortune,” I said, offering the most succinct portions of the horoscope. “I’m to inspire great love yet also great hatred. I’m to become a duchess and the mother of a duke, but without ever being a wedded wife, as well as a queen among kings, but without a crown of my own. I don’t begin to know what to make of that.”
“Nor do I,” Madame said, clearly disappointed. “That’s no fortune at all.”
“Such astrological contradictions are not uncommon, Madame,” the abbé said solemnly. “There are the occasional birth dates that present a seeming puzzle, only to reveal their truths over time.”
“I’m very sorry that Mademoiselle de Keroualle’s was one of those,” Madame said. “I’d wanted you to assure her she’d soon find a worthy gentleman who’d give her love and contentment in a happy marriage, not this foolishness about kings and great hatred.”
“It’s of no importance, Madame,” I said gently. “Good fortune or foolish, I wouldn’t worry overmuch on what the moon will predict for me.”
Yet I could not put aside the curious words myself, turning them over and over in my thoughts as I tried to find their meaning. Still they made no sense, and at last I ordered myself to dismiss the abbé’s horoscope as a testimony to idleness, the work of a flattering charlatan and no more.
Only later, much later, did I come to realize the truth in his words, for they were revealed in time to mean exactly what they said.
We all gave much thought to babies that spring. As Madame’s time grew closer, her mood grew more somber as she focused her dwindling energy upon the coming babe. She was often in pain, and came to rely especially on costly potions drawn from Chinese poppy flowers to ease her suffering. Never strong, she feared the ordeal of childbirth, and did more to prepare her soul than in arranging matters for the child.
Because we maids of honor were all unwed and innocent (by rule if not by practice), we were not party to Madame’s conferences with the midwives and surgeons, nor would we be included as witnesses to
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