While I’m not as simple of a provincial as some may think, there were times when I felt myself a fresh-faced girl from a convent, where I fell from the realm of normalcy and into the bellows of earth to find myself upside down in a new Babylon. I felt crushed as we pushed through the hot and dense mass of people. Women were dressed as ancient goddesses, milk maids, nuns, and shepherdess who passed around oranges from their wickers baskets; men dressed as devils, clowns, knights, and formless black figures in dark cloaks.

I stayed close to my brother lest I got lost in the crowd. We went up into the lodge rented by the Duc de Brissac. The Duc and another friend of my brother’s, the Comte de Foix, had already arrived. After my brother introduced me and some brief inconsequential talk, we drank some fine wine brought my the Comte. The Duc and the Comte were typical men of gilded youth — rich clothes, bright smiles, and careless manners — but there was nothing of note about either of them except for their wealth and titles.

Music rose up and down from the orchestra while masked women sang. I peered down over the railing into the mess of people while I sipped on my glass. The Palais-Royal was lit by numerous large crystal chandeliers with hundreds of candles that reflected off mirrors taller than myself, pink silk embroidered with flowers draped down from the balconies, and couples danced in the center. Amazed, star-struck, and in beautiful confusion I smiled to myself as I watched the hundreds of marionettes controlled by gossamer threads dance in a vivid world of glitter and gold. So young, so happy, thoughtless, and free without a care in the whole world.

I observed my brother’s conversion with his friends while largely remaining silent. I saw a version of my brother that was different than how I had known him. He seemed relaxed, almost content, as the time went by in casual chatter. I saw that I didn’t know much about his life outside of our family, though he barely even mentioned it. I knew that my father took him to Court, and his various trips, but I didn’t know he was going to masquerades. I imagined that he was also going to operas, balls, concerts, and all the other dizzying places while I stayed behind in my solitude. As he smiled and laughed with them, my sight fuzzed and the invisible pane of glass that separated me from everyone seemed it was closing in.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” said the Duc as he leaned back in his chair.

“He doesn’t get out much,” said my brother as he swirled his glass, “it’s his first masquerade.”

“Really?” said Brissac, “and how do you like it?”

“It’s quite the spectacle,” I said and glanced around at the gilded lodge to avoid Brissac’s eyes, “it’s very bright…and loud.”

Brissac gave me a polite smile, “Yes, the Duc just had his heir. He’s spared no expense.”

“Is the Duc here?” asked my brother.

“I heard he was earlier,” said Foix.

“I heard he’s with the Marquise,” said Brissac.

“Of course he is,” said Foix, “Spends the morning with the Missus and the night with the mistress.”

“Which Marquise?” I asked.

The conversation stopped and Foix looked up at me before letting out a laugh, “where have you been hiding him?”

“I’m not hiding him,” said my brother as he drank, “he prefers to keep to himself.”

While I didn’t like how my brother was painting me, I didn’t have a response. Not much time passed before we all went down into the masses. I lagged behind, not apart of the group but not exactly excluded either, like a pitiful puppy that trailed behind a family and hoped they would accept him into their world, but I didn’t know what to do. I got separated, united, and then separated again without notice and I went to drink fine Madeira that never had access to before.

I wandered around aimlessly. I passed by small gambling salons where men cheered or mourned their losses, dancers in extravagant costumes, men in suits of rich embroidery, and salons with banquet table and quiet conversation. I went further in the Palais, which got quieter the further I walked, but found I had gone too far when I saw a couple in an amorous embrace behind a staircase which caused me to run back to whence I came.

I returned to the lodge to rest and found my brother standing still at the railing, but his friends were gone.

“Where are they?”

He shrugged and didn’t turn around, “likely have stumbled themselves into some actresses’ dressing rooms.”

“How do you like it?” I smiled and found a seat.

“It’s fine,” he said in his cool tone as he tapped his fingers on the railing.

I waited for him to say something, anything, else but he continued to look down at the crowd. I almost laughed as my smile faded from my face. The silence grew louder and I could feel the thread that connected us thin. I didn’t know why he was so distant from me again, or what I did to cause it when he was the one who invited me. I thought I must’ve done something wrong and ruined it for the both of us.

I searched my mind for the answer, retracing my steps since we entered the palace to find myself void of an answer. I hadn’t done anything since we had arrived, so what was it? Then it all rushed to me. How stupid I was — we didn’t want me there. He just didn’t want me to be left alone with myself. I wasn’t forgiven.

I became nauseous and kept my head down. In a rare moment of boldness I wanted to confront him on his warm and cold manner towards me, but I didn’t want to bring up the incident. It was all still too mortifying. I didn’t know how to express what I felt — deceived and patronized — so I didn’t express it at all. I brought up something else entirely.

“Why did you have to say that?”

“Say what?” he said turning his head.

“Act like I’m some pathetic loner with your friends?” I said in a rougher tone than I intended, “why didn’t they even know I was coming with you?”

“Because I didn’t know until today,” he said in his even voice.

“Why?”

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It is my last day home. If you’re going to be upset with me over something I need you to do it elsewhere.”

I obeyed and went quick down the stairs and into the crowds. I tightened my fists until crescents formed in my palms. I longed to smash the mirror on the wall, to push all the platters off the tables, to scream, to tear away my insides with my bare hands, but I couldn’t do that — I was too good then — instead I caved into my craving to drink anything that I thought would numb me up again.

I gambled all my saved money, almost lost it all, and then doubled it. All the sounds and colors blended into one as I danced with a few random women. I swirled down into the vast maelstrom, down and further down, until I suffocated and blacked out in the inevitable vortex. At the end of it all I found myself back at the lodge at midnight, picking at cold meat and peach ices that were served. I was horrible all over; my eyes burned, head heavy with a simmering pain, and my limbs ached. I wished for someone to come and bash my head in, break my nose, or bust my lip just to feel something worse. I thought I shouldn’t had come at all.

My last memory was of my brother helping my stumbling self into a carriage in the lamp lit early morn. The carriage jutted forward and I closed my burning eyes where the lights from the Palais danced in the darkness.