Madame Tussaud's Apprentice by Kathleen Benner Duble Page B

too, must hurry to respond to a royal desire. So I restore the wisps of hair that have come undone, pat down the wrinkles in my dress, and follow Manon toward the innermost part of the palace.
    • • •
    We descend two flights of stairs. Manon scratches lightly upon the door, using only her fingertips as the etiquette book demands.
    I am about to walk into one of the rooms belonging to the sister of the king of France. My hands shake, and my mouth is suddenly dry. I have only felt frightened like this once before—in the weeks I spent stumbling my way toward Paris after Maman’s and Jacques’s deaths. It is a feeling I do not like. And why, after all, should I be scared of royals? They are just people.
    Still, this rationalization does not eliminate the feeling, and I tremble like leaves in the wind as an usher swings the door open. Immediately, I am blinded with sparks of light and gold. When at last my eyes adjust to the brilliance of the room, I see a young woman sitting at a writing desk, surrounded by seven thin, gray dogs.
    In contrast to the women and men I have seen walking the gardens of
Versailles
, this woman is dressed plainly, only a small bit of lace at her sleeves and no jewelry around her neck. Her light hair is twisted into a bun and pulled back from a clear face. She turns, and her blue eyes light up on seeing me,
    “Ah, you have brought her,” she cries. “Come in, child. Come in.”
    I walk slowly toward her, remembering to keep my back straight, my chin high. But my senses are so overwhelmed that I feel I might faint. Gold glitters from the woodwork. Life-size paintings adorn the walls. Rich brocades decorate the windows and chairs. Mirrors reflect the sunshine from tall windows. Wallpaper, rich in floral decoration, runs from floor to ceiling. The colors, the light, the grandeur of the furnishings all swirl about me, filling my senses to the point of explosion. Yet when I reach the lady, I somehow manage to drop into a curtsy so perfect, I know Manon will be proud of me.
    “Rise, child,” Madame Élisabeth commands.
    I stand and find Madame Élisabeth regarding me frankly as she strokes the head of one of her dogs. “I hear you have some very special talents.”
    I don’t know what to say. If I respond
oui
, it will sound like bragging. I stand there, frozen.
    Madame Élisabeth lets out a light laugh. “Have I scared her, Manon?”
    Manon glides up to me. “I am sure she is just a bit overwhelmed,
madame
.”
    I feel something cold and wet on my hand, and I jump. Then I realize that one of Madame Élisabeth’s dogs has nuzzled up against me. Without thinking, I bend over and stroke the animal. The dog licks my hand, and I laugh merrily, reminded of Algernon and his strays.
    “Ah, you are a dog lover,
n’est-çe pas
?” Madame Élisabeth asks. “Then, Celie, you and I shall be good friends, for I adore them.”
    With Madame Élisabeth’s kind words, my earlier fear seems to fly right out one of the large windows of the room, and I am relieved to have it gone.
    “What is his name?” I ask her.
    “
Her
name is Daphné,” Madame Élisabeth corrects. “And she likes you.”
    I smile at this woman. “I like her, too.”
    “Come, Celie,” Manon says. “Let us not waste Madame Élisabeth’s valuable time. We must show her what you can do. Take a moment to look at the room.”
    I straighten and glance about me. How am I to remember all these details?
    “Celie,” Manon says. She points to a table near Madame Élisabeth. “Please sit when you are ready. You will draw without looking up. Do you understand?”
    She gives me a look that lets me know that she is well aware of the nervousness I feel. The look steadies me. I have been brought to do this, and so I must do it right—for Manon’s sake, and for Algernon’s.
    I take a deep breath and begin to look about the room. It will not be hard to do if I only take in one thing at a time, if I can just forget where I actually am. How