Chapter 6 – Into the Underworld
Louisa Sophia and A Legion of Sisters
With the tour’s eight participants lined up in the courtyard, Buttons’s inspection started at the far end with the mysterious Catherine Denault. A pair of blue tits held Louisa’s attention as they flitted among the branches of the huge fleur de lis–shaped shrubbery. The small, showy, yellow-chested birds trilled, bobbing their blue-crowned heads and chirping in agitation at the garden invaders. While Louisa memorized the birds’ calls, she blocked out all other sounds, including the nearby crunch of boots on the cinder path.
“Mademoiselle Sophia, did I say something funny?”
Louisa bit her lip and focused on the frowning headmistress standing before her. “No, Headmistress. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear what you said.”
Madame Veuve Le Ray sighed. “The next two months will be a welcome respite for both of us. Mademoiselle Sophia, I hope you come back with renewed respect for the incredible opportunities given at St. Denis.” She shook her head and glanced down the line. “No matter. As I was saying, Colonel Theuvez will be the leader of this expedition and shall be afforded the respect he is due as both a winner of the Légion d’honneur and the Médaille Militaire.” Her voice was tinged with sadness as she said, “The war took most of his family, so please be considerate.”
Poor man.
The headmistress stood straighter, and her tone changed to that of a concerned mother. “I believe the cornerstone of an egalitarian society is the family, and the backbone of the family is a strong wife and mother. Like many other opportunities at our institution, this tour is provided to help our students make the most of their lives.”
Madame Veuve Le Ray lowered her voice to speak like a man, “Bring up for us believers and no thinkers. The Emperor Napoleon wrote those words when he founded St. Denis.”
Louisa had never heard this quote and thought, Pompous little ass.
The headmistress chuckled. “But luckily, women and not men have always run this school. Each of you has been blessed with an education that allows you to think better than most men. For over half a century, our graduates have left us to become the wives and mothers of France’s leading families.”
With her hands clasped behind her back, Madame Veuve Le Ray walked down the line. “Unfortunately, each year, there are young women who graduate but have fewer opportunities to shine once they leave these protective halls.” She stopped and turned to address them all again. “However, many students who attended similar tours found their place as wives of nobles and community leaders in other parts of France or other nations.”
Not this woman. Let’s go already.
Madame Veuve Le Ray locked eyes with Louisa. “While on the tour, you will conduct yourself with the utmost propriety. You are representing the best of not only St. Denis but France. I will pray for your safe travels and for each of you to find your place to shine. Godspeed.”
“Thank you, Headmistress.” Gabrielle curtsied.
While the other girls followed suit, Louisa mumbled, “Thank you,” and bent her knee. Afterward, she looked for her avian friends, but the little birds must have decided to skip the speech and were nowhere to be found. She tried whistling the same little chirps she had heard earlier, but they stayed hidden.
“Come on.” Virginie tugged at her elbow.
Louisa looked up to see the rest of the group entering the school building and hurried after her friend. They crossed one of the grand hallways and exited the building into an enormous semicircular courtyard. The long, rounded building enclosing the garden housed the administrative offices of the Légion d’honneur organization.
Three carriages waited on the other side of the main gate. A broad smile stretched across Mère Sainte Adeline’s plump, ruddy cheeks. She pointed each girl toward her transport and said, “Hurry along, girls. We are going to have so much fun.”
When the nun directed Louisa away from her friends toward the carriage last in line, she suspected the worst. With the door to the cabin open, Louisa floated up the two steps and paused at the sight of her traveling companions.
It’s going to be a long trip.
Louisa sat next to Mère de la Nativité. Gabrielle’s blue eyes sparkled as she smiled from the bench across from her. “Louisa. Isn’t this great? We never get to spend time together.”
Before she answered, Louisa glanced at Mère de la Nativité. Louisa thought the sister must have been a true beauty in her youth, but the woman’s constant fasting had stolen her color. She seemed to ignore the two teenagers and kept her stern eyes locked on the Bible in her lap.
Louisa raised an eyebrow toward her nemesis. “I didn’t know you knew my name.”
“Stop being silly. What other name would I use?” A sly smile flashed back from Gabrielle.
The cabin lurched, and the carriage bounced over well-worn cobblestone streets heading toward the nearby Seine River. They would board a barge to travel downriver to the port city of Le Havre, where a steamship to Porto awaited them.
Louisa leaned back into the leather seat. “We’ll be at the docks soon. Let’s just enjoy the view.”
Gabrielle shrugged and opened a bag to retrieve a small book. “If that’s what you wish.” She became as silent as the nun.
As Louisa watched the buildings pass by, she thought about the nickname implied by Gabrielle’s smile. How she, the Greek Bastard, longed for Corfu and the cliffs she loved. There must be seaside cliffs on the way to Portugal. Maybe she could find a chance to climb. That alone took the sting out of spending so much time with Gabrielle and her jetons. With hope in her heart, she began to sing a song from the famous French opera Orpheus in the Underworld.
Louisa thought it fitting to begin the tour, whose sole purpose was to bind her and her friends in marriage, by singing a song as Eurydice, a Greek woman murdered by her husband and his lover. As Louisa sang the happy stanza in her clear soprano, from the corner of her eye she thought she saw the nun’s tight lips turn up.
Woman that dreams, sleeps not;
She rises with the dawn.
Early flowers appear finer; the meadows are embroidered;
But these flowers, who are they for?
You wish to know. For whom?
Say nothing of it to my spouse.
They are for the pretty shepherd who dwells there.
Louisa chuckled at the thought of her picking flowers for a man and switched to singing Eurydice’s death aria. The Mère frowned.
When it strikes me near thee, it attracts, it tempts me—Death!
I call thee. Take me with thee. Death! Thy charm penetrates me;
Thy cold brings me no suffering. It seems as if I were to be born again,
Yes, born again, instead of dying.
Adieu! Adieu!