The Lady and the Unicorn Read Online Free PDF Page B

my hair. ‘Tell me what sort of husband you'd like and I'll see if there's one ripe at market,’ he likes to say. Wouldn't he be surprised if I described Nicolas! He doesn't think much of the artist, I'm sure — I overheard him with Papa, trying to undo Nicolas' unicorns, saying they wouldn't be right for the Grande Salle. Papa's door is not so thick, and if I put my ear right up to the keyhole I can hear him. Papa won't change his mind again, though. I could have told Léon that. To change once was bad enough, but to switch back now would be unthinkable.
Once I knew that Nicolas would be coming to the rue du Four, I went straight to the steward to find out exactly when. As usual, the steward was in the stores, counting things. He is always worried we are being robbed. He looked even more horrif Ied than Béatrice when I said Nicolas' name. ‘You don't want anything to do with that lot, Mademoiselle,’ he said.
‘I'm simply asking when he is coming.’ I smiled sweetly. ‘If you don't tell me I shall just have to go to Papa and say that you have not been helpful to me.’
The steward grimaced. ‘Thursday at Sext,’ he muttered. ‘Him and Léon too.’
‘You see, that wasn't so bad. You should always tell me what I want to know, and I'll be happy.’
The steward bowed but kept looking at me as I turned to go. It seemed he was about to say something, but then he didn't. That struck me as comical and I laughed as I ran away.
Thursday I was meant to go with Maman and my sisters to grandmother's at Nanterre for the night, but I pretended to have a bellyache so that I could stay at home. When Jeanne heard I wasn't going she wanted to pretend along with me, even though she didn't know why I was really staying behind. I couldn't tell her about Nicolas — she is too young to understand. She hung about until I had to say nasty things to her, which made her cry and run off. Afterwards I felt awful — I shouldn't treat my sister so. She and I have been close all our lives. Until recently we shared the same bed, and Jeanne cried then too when I said I wanted to begin sleeping alone. But I am so restless at night now. I kick off the covers and roll about, and even the thought of having another body in the bed — apart from Nicolas' — annoys me.
Now Jeanne has to be more with Petite Geneviève, who is sweet but only seven, and Jeanne has always preferred to be with older girls. Also Petite Geneviève is Maman's favourite, and that is irritating to Jeanne. Of course she has Maman's lovely name, while Jeanne and I have names that remind us we are not the boys Papa wanted.
Maman had Béatrice stay back to look after me, and she and my sisters finally left for Nanterre. I then sent Béatrice out to buy some honeyed orange peel I have a liking for, saying it would settle my stomach. I insisted that she go all the way to a stall near Notre Dame for it. She rolled her eyes at me but she went. When she was gone I let out a big sigh and ran to my room. My nipples were rubbing against my underdress and I lay on my bed and pushed a pillow between my legs, longing for an answer to my body's question. I felt like a prayer sung at Mass that is interrupted and left unfinished.
Finally I got up, straightened my clothes and head-dress, and ran to my father's private chamber. The door was open and I peeked in. Only Marie-Céleste was there, crouching at the hearth to light the fire. When I was younger and we were at the Château d'Arcy for the summer, Marie-Céleste used to take me and Jeanne and Petite Geneviève down to the river and sing us bawdy songs while she washed clothes. I wanted to tell her now about Nicolas des Innocents, about where I wanted his hands to go and what I would do with my tongue. After all, it had been her songs and stories that taught me about such things. But something stopped me. She had been my friend when I was a girl, but now I am growing up, soon to have a lady-in-waiting and prepare for a husband, and it was