I was now 37 years old. I lived as a woman and no one knew that I was the Dauphin of France except my adopted family. They were the only ones that knew that I was not a woman. I was a man. I was living in my adopted country of Ireland, and my life consisted of parties, shopping, and gossiping. I was safe from the terrors I experienced under the French Revolution.
However, I never forgot that I was French. I loved France and its people, despite what they have done to my family. It broke my heart to read how the French people still suffered in France. So many were living in poverty, starving and living in dire conditions. This made my life of a wild party “girl” seem to be shallow.
The more I read about the poor In France, the more desperate I became. I knew what I had to do. I had to return to France.
The Duke was very sick when I decided this. I did not say anything about my plans. I was beside his death bed nursing him. I could not leave the man that saved my life and offered me a new family. As I nursed him, my mind was in France. I kept on thinking about my return and what I would do.
I did not want to claim the throne. France had its leaders and they seemed to be changed quite quickly. The French thought that the Dauphin was dead and this seemed like it should stay that way. I wanted to have a low profile and yet help those that really needed the help.
The Duke could see I was restless. One day when I was nursing him, he told me that my heart belonged to France. This made me cry and I told him what I wanted to do. He smiled and told me to follow my heart. He told me there was a special bank account with money I can live on. At the same time, he told me to be careful and never let people know that I was the Dauphin.
He died the day after. His burial was one of the saddest things I ever experienced.
It was hard saying goodbye to my adopted family. The duchess could not stop crying. I told her that she was the most important person in my life, besides my momma. She was my mother in Ireland and I would always try and make her proud of me!
My plan was that I would dress as a nun. This was very practical as it was a good disguise and I did not have to carry a lot of luggage. I traveled back to France.
When my feet touched the ground of France, I started to cry. Memories of the abuse I had experienced under the revolution came back and memories that many wanted me dead flooded my head. Yet France was my home. It was where I belonged! That would never change.
On my way to Paris, I passed Versailles. It looked so big and yet it looked so old. The gardens were now wild and the palace itself looked like it was falling down. I had a few memories of when we lived there. I hoped that I could feel my parent's presence there when I stood and looked at it. This did not happen. All I could feel was a place that was a relic of the past and now empty and deserted.
It was worse when I came to Paris. I went around the slums and could not believe my eyes. People were living in filthy and it looked like they did not have a bath or something to eat in a long time. Some women would be busy trying to clean and cook, to no avail. The children were walking around with blank faces. Others were just sitting and barely existing.
I spoke with some people, and they told me how hard it was to survive. Flashbacks came to me when I was locked in the dark cell. I was treated like an animal. I did not know then that others all over the country lived in conditions we would not accept animals to live in. it broke my heart to hear about their lives, and what was worse, they had no hope.
This small girl was following me all over the slum. She was only 8 years old and told me she was an orphan. After a bit, I noticed so many orphans. I knew what it was like being an orphan. I knew that I had to help these children.
I rented an old house in the slum and started taking care of the orphan children. The house was quickly full of these children. I worked all day taking care of them and making sure that they were clean and fed. This work nearly killed me as I was alone in doing it.
Luckily some of the women who were neighbors started to help. I gave them food for their families. This led to a new spirit in the slum area where I was. People started being active in helping one another. It was like a ripple in the water. Kindness and compassion spread as people and this created some hope.
Besides the orphanage, I would speak with people and tell them that they each had a talent that was a gift from God. They could not wait until some factories employed them. They had to control their future. I loaned money to men who wanted to start a trade such as a carpenter or a builder. I also loaned money to women who would try their own business.
The slum had a good bakery and a good furniture workshop after years of hard work. The orphanage was the center of the slum as well as a place where families that had no roof over their heads could sleep.
When I was at the slum for 7 years. My adopted brother visited me. It was still a slum and the people still lived in dire conditions. The difference was that now the people had hope. They also had each other.
It was good that Jason visited me, as the money I inherited was now used up and gone. I never considered asking him if he would help pay. However, Jason was impressed. He told me that he decided to start a fund in Ireland and England where people could donate money to the slum and its work. This was like a prayer that was answered.
I continued working at the slum and helping the poor where I could. By the time I was 50, I was known all over Paris. I was known as the nun that dedicated and gave her life to give the poor people in slums some hope and dignity. I did not like the fame and preferred to continue working among the poor without getting any attention.
One of the happiest times of my life was when the girl that followed me around the slum on the first day was now old enough to leave the slum. She decided not to and she decided to wear a nuns habit like mine and dedicate her life to helping the poor.
When I was 51, I got a surprise visitor. It was my sister that I did not see since we were locked in the temple. At first, she looked at me and then in a silent voice said, “it's you. You are alive!”
How my sister knew that I was disguised as a nun confused me. She explained that she heard momma's voice telling her to visit me. We spent the next few days talking about the past and the people we were now. She was now living as an aristocrat, but she seemed so unhappy. The revolution had really damaged her spirit and she was not happy in her marriage. She had no children. She was still a victim of the revolution!
My sister left, but she told me where my parents were buried. I left the slum one day and visited the grave. I could not stop crying. I missed my parents so much! Would they be proud of who I was now?
What if there was no revolution. I would be the king now? Would I have been a good king? What would have happened to the slum that I lived in?
I continued working in the slum until I died when I was 63
I had a simple burial that the poor people had. However, my death got lots of publicity. They wrote about a nun that dedicated her life to helping the poor. Some even considered me a saint.
One newspaper called me “the uncrowned Queen of France.”
This was how people remembered me... the Queen of the slums.
The end
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