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le 22 juin 1666
I stood on deck and watched France disappear in the mist. Catherine stayed inside the ship, below, the captain calls it. But I had to watch. I may never see France again.
I wept. My cheeks were damp with the mist and so I think that no one saw. I did not care if they did. I only wished to be alone inside myself and let the image of France burn into my mind. Then I heard a sound. It was the Indian girl. She had come up on deck and now stood at the ship's rail near me. Her cheeks were as wet with tears as mine were. There was a difference, I soon learned from her. My tears were of loss, born from the idea of leaving France. Hers were tears of joy.
"I am going home," she said.