February 27, 1554

The days pass quietly, as none of us Marys want to leave Mary Beaton for a second. So we curtail our outdoor activities. Queen Catherine speaks about another ballet. Lord spare us! However, she spends much time with Ruggieri in his tower, peering into mirrors and crystal balls. You see, Nostradamus has gone back to his home in Salon to the south, where he has a wife and children. We hear that Doctor Nostradamus has very much a mind of his own. He is no sycophant, no self-seeking oily flatterer like Ruggieri. He has told the Queen that he will come to Paris only on certain occasions, but that he must be with his family. We hear that she offered to move his family into luxurious quarters in the Louvre Palace in Paris, but he said no. Nonetheless the Queen needs her seers, especially during her pregnancies, so she relies on Ruggieri in Nostradamus’s absence. I do not understand this. If the seer tells her what will happen, that a child might die in infancy or that she might miscarry and it is fate, what good does it do to know about it in advance? It is my view that such tellers of the future and seers kill hope, and without hope it is nearly impossible to live. Hope is the air that our spirits breathe. Without it our spirits suffocate. Could I go on if I were to know that I may never see my mother again? No, I do not think I could. But I live each day in hope of seeing dear Mother and my birth land again.