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My name is Lidia Bellefleur. I live with my father in the poorer community of France. My life is simple; wake up early, do the chores, work whatever jobs people ask of me, and go to bed late. It is better then what most have in this year of 1683, but I still long to leave the city and see what lies farther out, in the countryside, and maybe even Paris, so my mind often drifts into such fantasies. I often stop what I'm doing to watch the parade of the nobles as they walk to some grand party at one of the few fine houses in the city. They are so very elegant, the ladies are like fine china dolls delicately set with lace, and the men sometimes much the same. I have a friend who is the daughter of a noble, we look frighteningly like twins. I used to play with her in her garden when we were children and not so very different. She still treats me to tea on the weekends, I suppose she pities me. I do envy her and the extravagance she lives, but at the same time I pity her more, for I will not be forced into a marriage or have to forever wear a corset. I suppose in misery the peasants and the nobles are matched, the nobles can just hide it better. She has asked me however to take her place at a party before, for she was sick and could not make it, but it was such a big occasion that she said she needed to at least make an appearance, that's when our simliar faces came of use. I was wrapped in a gold satin dress with my hair piled atop my head and in long curls down my neck, and she made me wear dainty lace gloves to cover the roughness of my hands. I had never felt so very lovely. At the dance I was approached by so many, always introducing myself as my fair friend. Until he asked me to dance. He was tall, towering over me like a marble satute. His hair, tied back with a ribbon, was pure white, though he was a young man. I had seen him before, walking with that parade of beautiful people in the streets, and he had looked at me once. He called me "Golden Child" and took my hand to dance, and didn't let it go until the ball was ended in the early hours of the morning. I almost gave him my real name before I left, and I was so very sad that I would never see him again and that he would never know. Since that night, whose memories I hold so dear, I have included him in my many fantasies of escape from this life.

What I have been promised to become:
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