He was shocked. From everything Tante Adelaide
had said, he had half-expected a bold, flaunting woman like Madame du
Barry. But his wife did not appear to be more than twelve years old! He
had been told she was fifteen; he soon discovered she was only fourteen.
Heavy powdering covered her hair, reported to be of a reddish colour,
as his brothers had liked to tease him. With a high forehead, a thin,
aquiline nose, the full Hapsburg lower lip, hers was a comely and
bewitching visage. Her large sapphire eyes looked into his own, with
unabashed curiosity. His feeling of consernation combined with a strong
urge of protectiveness towards this foreign child. Somehow, he must
shield her from the intrigues of the court. He himself was not quite
sixteen; he did not know how he could protect her, just as he did not
know how he could be expected to be a husband to such a little girl. In
an instant, he realized he would have to wait to love her, wait for her
to grow up, giving himself time to win her affection and respect.