LITMIR.BIZ

      ISBN 978-5-0053-9881-9

      Создано в интеллектуальной издательской системе Ridero

      Wedding

      The wind drove the leaves along the dusty road, it was a beautiful sunny day.

      The noise of the bells carried its ringing throughout the entire area with dozens of ringing bells, breaking the usual silence of this small village of Saint Vollier, so common in France these times. A multitude of barefoot boys ran in a small, noisy flock to the village church, kicking up the dust in a column. The people were going to a big event for this small village, the wedding of noble gentlemen. A beautiful spring day shone in these parts. The dauphine breathed the scent of wild forest grasses and flowers. Lush vegetation, blossoming and waking up in spring, mixing with the smell of clean transparent streams running down from the mountains, like the veins of this place and the breeze coming from transparent lakes. Yes, it was Dauphiné, Diana’s home. Today was her wedding day. Diana was barely 15 years old.

      She stood in a wedding dress that sparkled with white. Her veil wrapped around her entire appearance, like a cloud. Her face seemed to glow with sparkling marble of incredibly white color. The stronger was the contrast of her black hair, like a raven’s wing. The very white skin of her face filled with even greater pallor that day.

      The bride stood by the window, pale and pensive. There was everything: a wedding dress, a white cloud of a veil, a delicate bouquet of white flowers, only her face did not shine with a joyful smile. Diane de Poitiers was the only daughter of Jean de Saint Valier. It was an ancient, proud, but, alas, impoverished family. Diana’s mother was from a very noble family. Her family was much older than even the family of the Valois kings. In the veins of Diana flowed the blood of the once former kings of France, the Miroving dynasty. Diana always remembered this, despite the fact that everyone around had forgotten about it. Her father was a noblest soul man and nobleman Jean de Poitiers, Senor de Saint Valier. He was a thin gray-haired man with brooding eyes filled with depth. He looked at his daughter. She smiled back at him affectionately. He knew that Louis de Brese was a good match for his daughter. A very noble, great seneschal of Normandy and the chief jagermeister of France was one of the wealthy and dignitaries of the state, close to the king himself. He married his beautiful daughter, although he was 40 years older than Diana. He, her father will be calm about her future.

      Are you ready my dear? He asked, kissing his daughter on the forehead and looking at her.

      She silently nodded back, smiling at the corners of her lips, and took his arm.

      He slowly led her to the exit. There was a noisy crowd in and around the church when their carriage pulled up and they got out. The father took her, his treasure, to the altar to give it to the groom, where he was already waiting for her. If such, that is, he could be called a groom. Far from being a young age of men who was supposed to become her husband. Outwardly, nature has not endowed him with even a small bit of beauty. He was simply ugly, thin and tall. He carried himself haughtily and arrogantly, erect to his full height and throwing his chin up, pursing his thin lips in arrogance. But, this position did not help in any way to hide his sparse hair on his head, carefully combed to one side.

      They were some kind of incomprehensible dirty shade mixed with gray hair. The thin, dry face was deeply wrinkled.

      The lower thin lip is arrogantly compressed and from that it seemed to be not there at all, she disdainfully rose up. Colorless, like a fish’s eyes, they were cold. He looked at the bride and his lips barely moved, trying to portray a semblance of a smile. His whole appearance resembled a large swollen ball, full of his own significance and arrogance.

      He, Louis de Brese de Molvrier, is one of the most noble, wealthy and influential people in the state. Having spent his entire life as a bachelor in travel and entertainment, by the age of 56 he decided that he needed an heir to his high rank, position and family. He had been choosing a wife for a year already. But, no one was worthy of him. He was sure of this and found flaws in all applicants. But, once he accidentally saw Diana at one of the receptions, he was struck by her incredible beauty. Like a forest fairy, she did not leave his head. But, no, do not think, he did not fall in love. For such a person, love had rather a different meaning and form. Except for love for himself, he probably did not feel any other. And since Diana was just a beauty and sparkled like the moon in the night sky, blinding everyone around that evening. De Brese decided that, perhaps, he would descend to her from Olympus of his greatness. And she will not find a better groom, just as for him she will be the best passion. Her poor, though noble family made him snort contemptuously. Diana was not interested in his greatness of the past family at all. But, nevertheless, he decided that a lady like her noble, but not so rich, should be happy with his proposal and such a groom. And so, with these thoughts, he went to a meeting with her father, declaring his intention to marry Diana. And now everything is decided the wedding will take place in a small church, in an equally small village.

      And he, as a tight-fisted or simply greedy person, will not have to endure too much costs and losses. Having done all the calculations, he was once again very pleased with himself and his choice.

      Candles were burning in the church, flickering and jumping like fireflies, smelled of incense. Diana stood straight, like a marble statue. She was calm. Her face reflected the flickering of the candles, like glints of light on white marble. She knew her father did it for her good. They were far from rich, and their estate had completely fallen into disrepair. Their house was often attended by the same as her father, noble nobles with empty pockets. Their honor and nobility were as great as their pockets were empty. They spoke noble speeches with gloomy faces, for which they, undoubtedly, could be put behind bars, or even completely deprived of their heads. They talked about the situation of nobles like them. About exorbitant taxes and fees and not justice of the government and its imminent collapse. And then her father would go somewhere and return gloomy and silent.

      She loved her father with the tender love of her daughter and knew that their ancient family had won their title and name only by their courage, valor and honor. Many centuries ago, her distant ancestors fought alongside the kings. But, as often happens, they were forgotten. And, as you know, unfortunately, in this world for enrichment, nobility is not the most faithful ally. From them turned up their noses those who have got riches far from their nobility and honor. They also could not boast of the antiquity of their kind, but only the width of their pockets. And now people like her father were out of the court.

      Winter, winter

      She looked at the ugly old man, and revulsion pierced her heart. He looked at her with his fishy, cold eyes and she said yes. Now he is her husband. A thought flashed through my head, and like a wounded bird plunged into darkness.

      They were sitting at a beautifully set silver table. The morning was lovely. The birds chirped happily and a fragrant breeze blew from the open window. She looked down at the omelet, trying to pretend she was eating. Thoughts swirled in a string of tangled chains, wedding night memories, burning her brain. Cold, dry and rough hands on his skin, and such a disgusting smell of his body. Somewhere there, in the depths of her soul, something broke and fell into a bottomless abyss, black and cold, the same as this night. The memory stabbed with almost physical pain in her temple, as if a shot echoed somewhere inside her heart. She tightened her grip on the fork. And then, long-term use of a sponge and water. She rubbed herself so hard, trying to wash off his touch that her skin turned red. Well, then. Oh, nightmare! His presence is near and his smell is so unpleasant. Her whole being was filled with disgust for him, for her father, for the whole world! So she lay on the edge of the bed until day touched the window. His voice brought her out of the cold memory like a slap in the face. She shuddered involuntarily.

      My dear. He said.

      Do you like breakfast?

      I see

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