Estelle, as she was handed aboard by the Marquis, exclaimed at its beauty. Coming behind her, Caroline and Amélie were quieter in their appreciation, while Theo simply stood and stared until Anatole had to push him aside to make his way aboard. The breeze across the water was fresh, the sun shone brightly, the river, high but past the spring flood, beckoned. No sooner had everyone stepped down onto the deck than the Marquis gave the order to cast off and they were away, drifting downstream until the sails were raised to catch the wind. The crew was small, less than a half dozen men. That they knew their job was obvious. The Marquis ignored them and their handling of the vessel, leading his guests to the afterdeck where he seated the ladies in armchairs cushioned in sea-blue velvet. Fittings of mahogany and brass gleamed about them. For their protection from the sun, an awning of blue and white canvas was stretched overhead with hanging side panels of azure silk that billowed in the wind.
