Bride of New France (11 page)

“You know how children are,” Madame du Clos says. “They have all sorts of ideas—”

“We are not here, paid from His Royal Highness’ coffer, to entertain the whims of every wretch with a deluded mind.”

The Superior takes several steps toward her desk. She picks up a package.

“Since you seem to have so many talents and much knowledge of the outside world, why don’t you tell me what you know of the place they call Canada.”

Laure glances sideways at Madame du Clos, who shrugs. What does any of this have to do with Canada? That was where Mireille was going to marry an officer. Laure tries to remember everything she can about this place. “I know only that Canada is far across the sea and that the Savages there eat the hearts of priests.” She thinks back to Mireille lying dead at the Hôtel-Dieu and what the nurse said. “And that it is better to die than to go there.”

The Superior raises an eyebrow and lets out a caustic laugh. “Yes, that is quite a good description of the place, wouldn’t you say?” She looks at Madame du Clos, who has taken a handkerchief from her sleeve and is dabbing her eyes with it.

The Superior then looks down at the package she is carrying and hands two letters to Laure. Laure recognizes Madame du Clos’ stamp and the workshop paper. It is the letter she wrote to the King. The other letter must be his response. “You can read this yourself, I suppose.”

Laure is disappointed to see that the response is not from
the King at all. Rather, it was written by his minister, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, the same man who complained about the quality of the girls’ needlework. It reads:

Parlement de Paris, 1669

Nos chers et bien aimés directeurs et administrateurs de l’hopital général de nostre bonne ville de Paris
,

The King sends his regards and is pleased with the great expansion plans underway at the Hôpital Général. It is particularly wonderful to have Messieurs le Vau and le Brun, architects to the King, replacing the Saint-Denis chapel with a magnificent church. We remain convinced that the founding of the General Hospital, the largest in all of Europe, is one of the great endeavours of our time
.

The young female residents of the Salpêtrière must understand that the hospital provides an excellent opportunity to receive training. They must know that beyond the doors of the Salpêtrière in the alleys of Paris lies a far worse fate for them. I was disappointed to hear your report that the workshops are not producing well. I am sure you will find some way to encourage the women to be more industrious. It is important that we seize the opportunity in textiles. I hope that you will help us to surpass the Venetian production of lace with our new point de France. It has been making a sensation at the French court and is sure to do so abroad as well
.

On the subject of industry, I would like to promote commerce in our colonies, particularly in Canada
.
However, because our colonists have been embroiled in wars with the Iroquois there, we have been unable to freely acquire the riches of that place
.

There is a vast abundance of furs and wood for ship construction in that country. The main problem is that we do not have a settled population in Canada. There are few women in the colony other than some nuns. But it is not in the best interest of France, which has continental struggles to contend with, to empty its own land of people to fill a colony
.

However, the project we agreed upon several years ago of sending to Canada a number of orphans and widows from the hospital has proven successful. The Intendant, Jean Talon, has reported to me that in recent years there have been considerably more marriages and births in Canada
.

To this end, I would like to send another one hundred women from the Salpêtrière to Canada this spring. I leave it to your discretion to choose those who would be best suited for this new adventure, provided that they are not too unpleasant to look at
.

Jean-Baptiste Colbert

Minister to the King

Laure is confused. There is no mention whatsoever in his response of her letter, and yet they must have read it, for it has ended up back at the Salpêtrière, in the hands of the Superior.

“You are a clever one, so you must have figured out that we have chosen you to be among the girls sent from this hospital
to Canada this summer.” The Superior smiles, and there is a look of deep satisfaction in her eyes.

Madame du Clos gasps and clutches for her chest as if the Superior’s words have brought on some sort of fit. Laure feels as if the weight of the entire Salpêtrière building has just descended upon her body. She cannot go to Canada. Her life is here, at the hospital for now, and later she will be a seamstress. What will become of her if she is sent across the sea to a place worse than death, more frightening than hell itself ? What about Madeleine? How can Laure leave her behind? The King is a cruel, cruel man. Laure fills with hot rage, but it is of no use. The most powerful person Laure has on her side is Madame du Clos, and she is blubbering apologies and tears like a child. She is powerless to prevent the Superior from doing whatever she pleases.

In the days before her departure, Laure thinks about what it means to be going to Canada, how she will not become a seamstress in the Halles, and what a terrible outcome that is. Madame du Clos, who finally stopped crying at the news, tries to reassure her by saying that in New France, as Canada is also called, there are no women begging for their living on the street. In fact, there are hardly any women there at all, so Laure will have her choice of husbands and will live like a gentlewoman.

Laure is seventeen and doesn’t want a husband yet, even if it were an officer like Mireille’s, so this is of little comfort to her. She asks Madame du Clos if she can be a seamstress in New France. Surely the women there will want to dress well for all these men. Madame du Clos says that maybe Laure will be able
to do that. The instructor pulls up the stool and takes down a heavy ream of blue cloth from high on the workshop shelf and cuts enough material from it to make a new dress. It is her parting gift to her most skilled
Bijou
. That night, Laure holds the material in her arms when she sleeps.

    7    

L
aure has found it hard to work on her lace piece and the other sewing tasks assigned to her ever since she found out she was being sent to Canada. The careful attention she pays to her stitches and the pride she takes in completing the pieces have lost their meaning. There is no reputation to build for a career as a Parisian seamstress, no reason to work hard any more. Madame du Clos has permitted Laure, her best set of fingers, to languish behind the others.

Back in the dormitory after their day of work, Madame Gage leads them through the Miserere mei Deus, their usual nighttime prayer. When she has finished, she turns to Laure and asks her to be the one to recite the act of contrition to the group.

“This is the last time you will recite it for us.” The governess turns to the others and says, “Laure Beauséjour will be leaving on a ship for Canada next week.”

There is a gasp in the room from those who haven’t yet heard the rumour. In whispers, they ask what Laure has done to merit such a brutal punishment. Only girls from la Force or Pitié or the worst dormitories would be so condemned. The word they use to describe her departure is
banishment
.
How wrong Laure had been to ever envy Mireille for having a husband in this terrifying place.

Laure waits for Madame Gage to correct the girls, to say something positive about the place she is going to. The governess could tell the other girls that Laure will soon be married, that she will live in her own house and have a seamstress shop across the sea in New France. But the governess only tells the girls to be quiet and looks at Laure to see if she has heard them denouncing her lot.

Laure swallows hard to begin the recitation: “
Mon Dieu, j’ai un extrême regret de vous avoir offensé, parce que vous êtes infiniment bon, infiniment aimable, et que le péché vous déplaît
…” It does feel as if she has greatly sinned. Why else would she be so unfortunate as to be among the women from viler dormitories being sent to Canada?

There is silence in the room when Laure finishes the prayer. She lowers her head and waits for Madame Gage to leave for the night. If only she could tell the other girls of Sainte-Claire that going to Canada is not so bad. After all, Mireille Langlois was supposed to go there. But everyone at the Salpêtrière knows that it is better to spend some days in solitary confinement in the basement cells, or even to die of scurvy within the confines of the hospital, than to be banished to Canada or the French Islands. For banishment across the sea is just like death, in that no woman has ever returned to the hospital to tell of her adventures there.

But Laure is wiser and knows more than these ignorant girls who have seen nothing of the world. There are people who call Canada the New World and who have posed their greatest dreams in the direction of that place. Could Laure not be one of these women as well? Probably not, as she has not heard
of seamstresses or women in elegant gowns finding much of anything in Canada. But another idea comes to her. Suddenly, Canada may not be as bad as she had thought.

Laure can sense as the girls change from their day dresses into their nightgowns that they want to talk amongst themselves about her departure to Canada. She catches some of them looking at her and growing quiet when her eyes meet theirs. Madeleine hands Laure her nightgown and kneels beside the bed for her prayers.

That night, as they lie side by side on the cot, Madeleine takes Laure’s hand and tells her not to pay any attention to the girls. They do not know a thing about the outside world, she says. Nevertheless, Laure can feel Madeleine’s hand trembling a little.

It is usually during these brief moments, when all the work duties and prayers of the day have been completed and the girls lie exhausted in their cots, that Laure talks to Madeleine about the future she dreams of for them. Their future, if it is to be any good at all, will take place beyond the hospital’s courtyard, when they have been released from the Salpêtrière. Usually, Laure talks about how the two of them will become the best seamstresses in all of Paris and how they will have their own lace-production workshop with their very own apprentice girls and become as famous as the women of Alençon. After they have produced the finest, most expensive royal lace for some years, men from the court will come to seek their hands in marriage. With their new fortunes, they will then be able to afford silks and satins for their creations. Although after meeting the Duke in Tailleur Brissault’s workshop, Laure no longer mentions the part about the marriages. Besides, Madeleine has often told Laure that she never wants to get married.