The Lady and the Unicorn Read Online Free PDF

listen. I am good at listening when I'm not meant to.
Maman is always careful not to bother Papa, but he seemed to be in good spirits — probably glad like me to be out in the sun after such a long Mass! When she asked he said that he already had the drawings and that Nicolas des Innocents would be coming soon to discuss them. Until now he has said little about the tapestries. Even admitting that much seemed to irritate him. I think he regrets changing the battle into a unicorn — Papa loves his battles and his King. He left us abruptly then, saying he had to speak to the steward. I caught Béatrice's eye and we both giggled, making Maman frown at us.
Thank Heaven for Béatrice! She has told me everything — the switch from battle to unicorn, her own clever pun on Viste , and best of all, Nicolas' name. Maman would never tell me any of it, and the door of her room is too thick — I couldn't hear a thing when he was in with her, except for Béatrice's laugh. Luckily Béatrice tells me things — soon I will have her for my own lady-in-waiting. Maman can spare her, and she would much rather be with me — she will have much more fun.
Maman is so tedious these days — all she wants to do is to pray. She insists on going to Mass twice a day now. Sometimes I have dancing lessons during Terce or Sext, but she does take me to Vespers for the music, and I get so restless I want to scream. When I sit in Saint-Germain-des-Prés my foot starts to jiggle and the women on my pew can feel it but don't know where it's from — except for Béatrice, who places her hand on my leg to calm me. The first time she did that I jumped and shrieked, I was so surprised. Maman leaned over and glared at me, and the priest turned around too. I had to stuff my sleeve in my mouth to keep from laughing.
I seem to irritate Maman now, though I don't know what bothers her so. She irritates me too — she's always telling me I'm laughing too much or walking too fast, or that my dress is dusty or my head-dress is not straight. She treats me like a girl yet expects me to be a woman too. She won't let me go out when I want — she says I'm too old to play at the Fair at Saint-Germain-des-Prés during the day and too young for it at night. I'm not too young — other girls of fourteen go to the fair to see the jongleurs at night. Many are already betrothed. When I ask, Maman tells me I'm disrespectful and must wait for Papa to decide when and what man I shall marry. I grow so frustrated. If I am to be a woman, where is my man?
Yesterday I tried to listen to Maman's confession at Saint-Germain-des-Prés to find out if she felt bad about being so spiteful to me. I hid behind a pillar near the pew where she sat with the priest but her voice was so low that I had to creep quite close. All I heard was ‘ Ça c'est mon seul désir’ before one of the priests saw me and chased me away. ‘Mon seul désir,’ I murmured to myself. My one desire. The phrase is so bewitching that I repeat it to myself all day long.
Once I was sure that Nicolas would be coming I knew I had to see him. C'est mon seul désir. Hah! There is my man. I've thought about him every hour of every day since I met him. Of course I've said nothing to anyone, except for Béatrice, who to my surprise was not very kind about him. That is her one fault. I was describing his eyes — how they are brown as chestnuts and pinched at the corners so that he looks a little sad even when he clearly is not. ‘He's not worthy of you,’ Béatrice interrupted. ‘He's just an artist, and not trustworthy at that. You should be thinking of lords instead.’
‘If he were untrustworthy, my father would never have hired him,’ I retorted. ‘Oncle Léon wouldn't have allowed it.’ Léon is not really my uncle, but an old merchant who looks after my father's business. He treats me like a niece — until recently he chucked me under the chin and brought me sweetmeats, but now he tells me to stand straight and comb