and as she scrubbed herself in the cuve, Micheline rehearsed every word that she would say to Andrew. All the time that she'd been sick, she had dreamt of him. Since her conversation with Rabelais, everything seemed to make sense. The monk's pronouncements had been unorthodox, yet perfectly suited to Micheline's problems. She had allowed silly fears and events from the past that had nothing to do with Andrew cloud her judgment. Rabelais was right. Micheline would only have one life, and now she was determined not to waste it. Andrew was everything Bernard couldn't be; his strength and tenderness emanated from a steel core, while Bernard had been innately weak. Now that Micheline's eyes were open, she knew that she would never compare the two men again.
Suzette fretted aloud as Micheline dressed, worrying that she should not have gotten up and that this sudden burst of energy might trigger a relapse. The younger girl placated her by nibbling on some bread and sliced orange, but she would not be persuaded to return to bed.
Finally, clad in a gown of buttery-yellow silk, her freshly washed curls spilling loose down her back, Micheline was ready. It was past seven now. Andrew would certainly be awake.
"There's someone I must see, Suzette. Don't worry—I'm not going outside!"
"But, madame, what if my mistress should come? What shall I say?"
"Aimée never leaves her own rooms until eight-thirty, but if she should appear before I return, simply tell her that you couldn't control me. Tell her I was incorrigible!" Laughing gaily, Micheline opened the door and came face to face with St. Briac.
"Bonjour, monseigneur!" she greeted him. "I've recovered!"
"So I see." His smile was distracted. "Micheline, I need to talk to you."
"Can it wait? I was on my way to speak to Andrew Selkirk."
"Save your breath, cherie. I hate to tell you, but he's left for England."
Part III
Lord, what is this world's bliss,
That changeth as the moon?
My summer's day in lusty May
Is darked before the noon.
I hear you say farewell. Nay, nay,
We depart not so soon.
Why say ye so? Whither will ye go?
Alas! what have ye done?
All my welfare to sorrow and care
Should change, if ye were gone,
For in my mind of all mankind
I love but you alone.
Anonymous
Chapter 18
March 31, 1533
"Left? Left?! But how can that be?" The blood drained from Micheline's face as St. Briac led her over to a chair.
"He said that he told you good-bye, ma petite. Don't you remember? I had the feeling that he didn't want to think about whatever passed between you."
"I—I thought Andrew was here, but later it seemed that it must have been another dream. The physician gave me so many sleeping draughts that even when I appeared to be awake, I was scarcely conscious. What could I have said to Andrew?"
St. Briac held tight to her trembling hands in an effort to calm her. "I don't know. Perhaps he expected you to change your mind about marrying him when you heard that he was leaving."
"But I would have! I've thought and dreamed of nothing else for days!"
"Are you certain, Micheline? I want you to be honest with me. Why did you refuse him in the first place?"
Something in Thomas's face gave her hope. Perhaps, if she told all to him, he would find a way to help her. And so Suzette was sent from the chamber and Micheline spilled out the tale of her marriage to Bernard. She told of her adoration for the young man, of her implicit trust in him, and of the confusion she had felt when he began spending more and more of his time with the court.
"Bernard had been the one ray of sunshine in my life ever since Maman died, and now, looking back, I see how naive I was... and how hungry I was for love. Bernard seemed the answer to all my prayers. When he began to change, I couldn't face it. I was certain I must be at fault, so I tried harder than ever to be a good wife, hoping that he would want to stay with me in Angouleme."
"And instead he did the opposite," St: Briac said grimly.
"I told myself that all would be well... next month, or next season. There didn't seem to be any meaning to my life without Bernard. When I lost the baby, I felt that I had failed him."
Thomas reached out to wipe away the tear that spilled onto Micheline's cheek.
"You know how desolate I was when he died. Even after