As was to be expected

Cette pense m'a long perturbee --

writes Mourad a little further, describing how, in the midst of the Second World War in Europe, by near-miracle she was saved from public orphanage and taken into a well-off family after her mother's death --

qu'avais-je de plus que de milliers d'autres enfants abandonnees, envoyees a l'Assistance publique ou les plus faibles mouraient? Sinon le fait d'etre une petit princesse?

Est-ce pour cela quel'on m'a gardee? Qui donc aimait-on? Ou etait-je, moi, dans tout cela?

The note is wrong -- in as many sentences -- on three accounts:

first: true princes (and princesses) do not bewail the injustice of their elevated social status, but see it rather as a call to duty (noblesse oblige, to whom much was given, etc.): our good fortune is supposed to give us a titanium moral spine, miss Kenize;

second: there is no such thing as "moi-meme" -- a person, an individuality -- apart from being the prince or princess that we are; one does not love a princess the way one may love any other girl; no princess who expects to be loved like any other girl deserves to be one; why: no such girl is one; and,

third: what is this base whining (in itself bad enough) to one's social inferiors (ie. the general public) about being unloved and unappreciated?

You are not a princess, Mme Mourad. I don't recognize you.