Isola

by Allegra Goodman

My guardian was my father’s cousin, Jean-François de la Rocque de Roberval, and he was a great man because he had been the King’s boyhood friend. My father had been greater still, or so Damienne had told me. As for my mother, she had royal blood. However, my guardian had the advantage because he was living.

That means he will not separate us.” I asked, “Why would he want to?” She sighed. “Why do men like him do anything? Because they can.”

If you want to be considered wise, behave wisely and chastely. Be humble to all. Be truthful, courteous, and amiable…

I learned to write so that my words were clear and flowing—and then to say that I wrote poorly. To play my music perfectly and say I could do better. All this to imitate Claire and her good mother, for I saw what they held dear. Patience, excellence, humility.

“You are Reason,” I told Claire. “And your mother will be Rectitude. And Damienne can be Justice.” “Then who will you be?” Claire asked. She smiled at my answer. “None of those, so I must be the authoress.”

Vanity, vanity, taught Madame D’Artois. Everything we treasure has a price. And everything we have will slip away. She told us we were dust and our lives brief as grass. We might understand this if we were truly wise—but I lacked wisdom.

We were prisoners of love—but not as poets would describe it. We had lost hope and equanimity, but not for any passion of our own. The lust of a young man confined us. His wealth and his position trapped us upstairs.

And this was New France, which Cartier called Canada, an isle so rich it was an empire in itself—but its greatest gift was the wide river—for ships might sail to the Spice Islands and China by this northwest passage.

Filling these packets and wood boxes, I felt a joy I had not known before. It was not love, and it was not comfort, nor was it mastery or beauty, but it was usefulness.

“Those who know their faults are truly wise,” the Queen said. “And those who have endured the worst have most to teach. Do not say, then, that your story does not deserve retelling. Tell me, rather, how I might reward you for offering what you have learned.”