Read Online The King's Daughter by Suzanne Martel - Free Book Online

husband?”
    â€œYou will please him with your virtues.”
    Jeanne laughed sarcastically. “Then he’ll have to be content with very little.”
    Just then a military officer presented himself at the school door and greeted her courteously.
    â€œMadame, I am Lieutenant Pierre de Touron. I acted as witness to your marriage. Monsieur de Rouville asked me to escort you to the dance, for he has been delayed by urgent business. He will join us later at the governor’s house. It’s a great honour for me.”
    â€œWhat!” Jeanne exclaimed, horrified. “Is the ball taking place at the governor’s house? That’s terrible. I have neither the clothes nor the manners for such a fête. I can’t go.”
    â€œOn the contrary, madame,” protested the gallant soldier, looking approvingly at her well-made figure. The shawl she had wrapped herself in lent some colour to her pale face. “You will be the queen of the ball—and not only because you’ll be the heroine.”
    Never had an orphan heard such a beautiful speech. Tongue-tied for once, she let the young man help her on with her big grey cape, the coat worn by novices and king’s daughters alike. Putting her hand on her escort’s arm—as if she had been used to doing that all her life—Madame de Rouville, head high, stepped out with the handsome officer. That’s the sort of husband she needed: eager, eloquent and obviously overflowing with admiration. They went briskly down the road that led to the fort, and Jeanne noticed two armed soldiers escorting them. In Ville-Marie, you couldn’t even go to a ball without running the risk of meeting danger.
    As Marguerite Bourgeoys’s ward walked along in her uncomfortably new leather shoes, she soon had much more down-to-earth worries. She did not know how to dance and had never in her life attended a social gathering. A good ten times she was tempted to reverse her steps and run back to the refuge offered by the Bon-Secours School, but pride prevented her. She was going to show that Monsieur de Rouville, who was too overworked to pay any attention to his wife on their wedding day! She’d show him that Jeanne Chatel could manage very well by herself!
    The sentinels saluted the couples as they came into the fort enclosure one after another. Pine torches and lanterns lit up the warm night. Near the wall, Monsieur François-Marie Perrot, the governor, haughty and cantankerous, and his scarcely more likeable wife were welcoming their guests. The lieutenant and Jeanne traded deep bows with them.
    Already couples were gaily dancing under the stars in the centre of the regiment’s parade ground. An orchestra composed of three musicians was playing lively melodies. Under a tree, large pots of spruce beer awaited the thirsty guests. Farther along, brandy was served.
    Jeanne was relieved. She had feared a big court ball with all the pomp and traditional ceremony. This boisterous gaiety reassured her a little.
    â€œHere comes the bride!” shouted the guests, breaking off the saraband. Joyful exclamations greeted this announcement.
    â€œThe bride will open the ball,” proclaimed a noisy, strapping fellow.
    A circle immediately formed around the new arrivals. The musicians tackled a wild rhythm, and the lieutenant, throwing Jeanne’s cape onto a wooden bench, held out his hands to her.
    â€œI don’t know how to dance,” Jeanne admitted, embarrassed.
    â€œJust follow me,” Pierre de Touron reassured her. “Do what I do and nobody will notice a thing. They’re far too busy admiring and envying you.”
    The lieutenant took hold of his partner and led her, in step, across the grounds. Then, grasping her firmly around the waist with both hands, he turned her faster and faster. Jeanne was supple and agile and had a good sense of rhythm. She fell into step almost before she knew it.
    Little by little, other couples