Rosalind was nervous; it was the first time she had ventured out into Paris alone. She took a hackney to the jewelers, and paid the coachman to wait for her. The merchant's shop gleamed with gold, silver, and gems of every color, all flashing in the sunlight. Mme. de Chartes sent her there to pick up some jewelry, a gift for her debut at court. Rosalind's little heart beat faster at the thought of a present.
The Prince de Cleves aimlessly strolled the streets of Paris that day, watching all the people scurry around him. When he heard a sweet delicate voice, he turned to see the lithe and elegant form of a young woman. Although he had not seen her face, he knew it lovely. Upon hearing footsteps behind her, the young woman turned, and the Prince nearly swooned. She blushed under the heat of his gaze, emanating from a blazing blue eyes. The Prince browsed the merchandise, sneaking glances at her.
Rosalind could not understand why the young man kept looking at her in such a way. It made her feel as though she were standing naked before him. His eyes were moving up and down the cases of jewels, without ever seeing them, until he finally came to stand close to her. Then, he became very interested in a large gold ring set with tiger's eye.
The jeweler returned with a case. Inside was a delicate necklace made of rose quartz and pearls set in silver. Rosalind's face lit up when she saw it.
"There is a matching bracelet and earrings as well, Mademoiselle," the jeweler said.
"They will look lovely on you," the Prince commented, smiling at Rosalind. He prayed the merchant would say her name. It was obvious she came from delicate breeding. Under his eyes her face turned as pink as the stones of her necklace. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch her slender fingers.
"I will wrap these up for you," the jeweler said. After handing Rosalind her packet, she rushed from the store.
The merchant cleared his throat, and now the Prince blushed. He bought the ring, to remind himself of the day he had met her. As he walked home, she walked beside him. He could see her dark eyelashes, her prim mouth, her bud like breasts. A new opened rose in Paris, and he did not know her name.
When he arrived in the court of the Princess Mary, he told them of this fey woman who had bewitched him so. He praised her demure mien, her modest blushes. As he began to describe her thick mahogany locks, one of the ladies whispered into Mary's ear, surely it was Rosalind.
"Prince, this woman for whom you feel such passion, whose name you do not know, what would you do if you met her here tomorrow?" Mary asked.
The Prince rushed to her and fell before her feet. "My Princess, I would forever be in your debt," he said, reaching up take her hands. She stroked his hair, and he began kissing her fingers. She left him curled up in his lap, daydreaming about the next morning.
That night Rosalind teased him in his dreams. They were in the store, he was helping her to put on her necklace, his fingers brushing against her satin skin. He was so close he could smell the fragrance she wore, a delicate rose. She turned in his hands, her face upturned. When he leaned down to kiss her, she slipped from his grasp, and the game began again. He bedecked her with ear pendants, bracelets, rings, all night.
The next day he took great care with his toilette. He picked a rose from the garden and affixed it to his jacket with a great diamond broach. He did not forget to wear his tiger's eye ring. As he walked to his carriage, there was a spring in his step. He wanted to run to Mary's chamber, but he forced himself to walk to her court. For a moment, his heart stopped. There she stood, and she blushed again at seeing him.
Mme. de Chartes could not help but notice the young man's reaction to her daughter.
"See Prince, have I not kept my word?" the Princess Mary said. "Come here, Rosalind, and meet the Prince de Cleves. You saw one another yesterday, and he was quite smitten with you."
Rosalind stepped forward, and curtseyed. The Prince took her hand in his, and gave it a lingering kiss. "Rosalind, it is a pleasure to meet you."
"And you as well Prince."
Rosalind stared at the ground as the Prince stared at her. Mary startled them all with her silvery laugh. Just then the Chevalier de Guise walked into the room. He gasped when he saw the sylvan creature, frozen in fear before the Princess and court. She clasped her hands together and her face flushed even brighter.
Mme. de Chartes smiled when she saw another gallant stride into the room, heart leaping at the sight of her daughter. Among all these noble men, she would find the perfect match for her.
The young woman was relieved when they left. All the new emotions of that morning left her bewildered. The way the men looked at her, it made her body feel warm and languid. They were always smiling, their eyes shining. The assiduous Chevalier de Guise did not leave her side, and she recognized the ring the Prince wore as the one from the store. She had worn her new jewelry too. Her mother said the gems symbolized tender love and purity. She did not feel pale pink and pearl after her first day at court; she felt red and violet.
After they arrived to the Hotel de Chartes, she claimed to have a headache. Once the maid left the room, she placed a pillow between her legs. As she rubbed herself, she thought of the Prince de Cleves' mouth, the Chevalier de Guise's gentle hands. She did not know why she was excited, why their gazes' made her blush, she did know that there was only one way to deliver herself from this turmoil. She gave a soft cry which her young lovers would have given their souls' to hear. Then she fell into a sweet slumber, a bead of sweat trailing down the nape of her neck.
* * * *
All the men in court fell in love with Rosalind: it was the thing to do. They played a game where they tried to make her blush. It was easy too. They stood close to her, or trailed a finger up her arm. The Prince de Cleves and the Chevalier de Guise were once great friends, but their relationship cooled as their rivalry for Rosalind heated. The Marechal de St. Andre preferred to lurk in the hallways.
"Rosalind, how are you today?" the he asked as she walked past him.
The young woman jumped, and the Marechal gave her a low bow. He was a tall man with stooped shoulders, rounding his back into a hunch.
"Please pardon me for frightening you. Where are you going? I shall escort you."
Rosalind began to stutter. "Oh, I was..." She sighed. "I was going out for some fresh air, the court can be stifling. I wanted to be alone for a minute."
