He took a moment to check his appearance in the fine Valencia mirror, which he himself had brought back from Havana in March, then climbed the stairs to the great salon which fronted Chartres Street.As he waited in line to greet his host, Rafa reflected that everyone who was anyone must be here tonight. Governor Gálvez held court beside his chosen lady, the beautiful widow María Feliciana de St. Maxent d’Estrehan, near one of the magnificent French windows. The windows stood open to the mild spring breeze, spilling the light of a thousand candles onto the street below. As usual forgoing the finery due his exalted position, Gálvez had favored a uniform even more severe in lines than Rafa’s own, a restraint that served as a deliberate contrast to his lady’s extravagant Gallic beauty.With his heart firmly in the possession of a certain other Creole lady, Rafa found himself inspecting the exquisite Doña d’Estrehan with the detached admiration one might accord an expensive painting: wondering how much it cost and how long it had taken to compose.
