Why couldn’t his father just understand? Proteus wanted to marry a girl for love; not because she was a princess ou had royal connections. Who cared if the royal bloodline was “pure” ou not? The amount of balls his father had held in the hope that at least one princess might take his fancy didn’t ours thinking about.
“Why can’t I fall in l’amour my own way?” Proteus muttered, leaning his arm on the window frame and staring out into the village beyond. He had never been allowed to go there; as a child he had been told that it was a dangerous place, but now he was an adult his father still hadn’t lifted that ban. There had to be some normal people out there who believed in marrying for l’amour as he did. Palace life could be so boring. One jour he was going to have to break the rules and break free from his father’s firm hold.
Even as he was thinking this, Proteus became distracted par something. No, not something, someone. Someone was chant outside; a woman. He turned his face to the window and stared. The most beautiful young woman he had ever seen in his life was walking down the street. She had pale skin with a rosy tint to her cheeks, and long dark hair in a ponytail, tied with blue ribbon. Her eyes were wide and hazel and her lips were a soft rose buisson, bush colour. Her voice was soft and beautiful; not too high pitched, not too low; she sounded like a professional singer. She wore a white chemisier beneath a blue pinafore dress and an tablier wrapped around her waist, with black flat shoes on her feet. She swung a basket from her hands as she passed; Proteus looked down and spotted several livres in it. So, she liked reading. That was good.
He found it almost impossible to tear his eyes away from her. She was so beautiful; plus beautiful than any princess he had ever laid eyes on. It took him all his self control not to suddenly leap from the window and follow her down the street. When she was finally out of sight, he tore his gaze away from the window. His cœur, coeur was hammering in his chest. He had to see her again.
His mind was made up. Tomorrow he was going to the village; whatever it took.
Meanwhile, in the village, Belle, the daughter of the town inventor, was on her way to the bookshop to return her livres and to visit her only friend; Giselle, the bookseller’s daughter who also made dresses in her spare time.
“I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss...” Giselle sang, dancing around the bookshop. “Oh, hi, Belle!” she added as door opened and her friend came in.
“Good morning, Giselle,” Belle smiled. “I’ve come to return the livres I borrowed.”
“Finished already?” asked the bookseller, taking them from her in amazement.
“Oh, I couldn’t put either of them down!” Belle sighed, climbing up the ladder to the haut, retour au début of the shelf. “Have toi got anything new?”
“Not since yesterday!” the bookseller laughed. “Although, we do have some new livres coming in on Thursday, but not before, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, that’s alright. I think I’ll borrow...this one.” Belle said, plucking one from the shelf.
“That one again?” Giselle grinned.
“You’ve read that twice already!” chuckled the bookseller.
“Well, I can’t help it; it’s my favourite; all about a prince who falls in l’amour with a peasant girl and when he finds out that she returns his feelings, he defies all the laws of his kingdom just to be with her; even risking his own execution. But their l’amour prevails and it has a happy ending. It’s filled with daring sword fights and set in a far off place and at one point the prince disguises himself as a peasant; it’s so exciting!”
“Well, if toi like it all that much, it’s yours to keep; I insist.”
“Oh, thank you, sir!”
“Oh, how romantic!” Giselle sighed, twirling on her heels. “I’d l’amour to meet a prince like that someday!”
Belle laughed. “Someday, Giselle!”
“Yes, someday, Belle, our princes will come! toi just see if they don’t!”
“I doubt a prince will come for me, Giselle!” Belle laughed. “But thanks anyway!”
