“Oh, but we have those in abundance aboard our ships, my lady.”
“You have barbers. You have consulted them for months, and still cannot sit down! I am speaking of physicians.”
“It is true that barbers make a specialty of the other end of the anatomy from that which concerns me,” said the man on the perch. “Nature, though, offers her own remedies. I have packed my breeches with snow. At first it was shocking, intolerable.” He had to wait now, for some moments.
“You laugh,” he went on, “but, my lady, you do not appreciate the relief that this affords me, in more ways than one. For not only does it relieve the pain and swelling aft, but also, a similar but not so unpleasant symptom fore, which any man would complain of who went on a journey of any length in your company…”
Two of the women laughed again, but the third was having none of it, and answered him firmly: “The journey is not so long, for those of us who can sit down. The destination is a place where wit is prized, so long as it is discreet and refined, and does not offend the likes of Madame de Maintenon. But these sailorly jests of yours shall be immense faux pas, and shall defeat the whole purpose of your coming there.”
“What is the purpose, my lady? You summoned me, and I reported for duty. I supposed my r?le was to keep my godson amused. But I can see that you disapprove of my methods. In a few years, when Jean-Jacques learns to talk, he will, I’m certain, take my side in the matter, and demand to be flung about; in the meantime, I am dragged along in your wake, purposeless.” He gazed curiously out to sea; but the train had turned inland, and the object of his desire was rapidly receding into the white distance. He was hopelessly a-ground.
“You are forever fussing over your ships, Lieutenant Bart, wishing that you had more, or that the ones you have were bigger, or in better repair…”
“All the more reason, my lady, for me to jump off of this unnatural conveyance and return to Dunkerque post-haste!”
“And do what? Build a ship with your own hands, out of snow? What is needed is not Jean Bart in Dunkerque. What is needed is Jean Bart at Versailles.”
“What purpose can I serve there, my lady? Pilot a rowboat on the King’s reflecting-pool?”
“You want resources. You compete for them against many others. Your most formidable competitor is the Army. Do you know why the Army gets all the resources, Lieutenant Bart?”
“Do they? I am shocked to hear this.”
“That is because you never see them; but if you did, you would be outraged at how much money they get, compared to the Navy, and how many of the best people. Let us take étienne de Lavardac as an example.”
“The son of the duc d’Arcachon?”
“Do not affect ignorance, Lieutanant Bart. You know who he is, and that he knocked me up. Can you think of any young nobleman with stronger ties to the Navy? And yet when war broke out, what did he do?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“He organized a cavalry regiment and rode off to war on the Rhine.”
“Ungrateful pup! I’ll work him over with the flat of my cutlass.”
“Yes, and when you are finished you can go to Rome and poke the Pope in the eye with a stick!” suggested the smaller of the Countess’s two assistants.
“It is a splendid idea, Nicole—I shall do it for you!” Bart returned.
“Do you know why étienne made such a choice?” asked the lady, unamused.
“All I know is, someone needs to teach him some more manners.”
“That is exactly wrong—someone needs to teach him less. For he is generally agreed to be the politest man in France.”
“He must have forgot his manners at least once,” said Jean Bart, pressing his face to the grate and peering at little Jean-Jacques, who had his face buried in his mother’s left breast.
“Nay, for even when he impregnated me he did so politely,” said the mother. “It is because of this sense of honor, of decorum, that he, and all the other young Court men, prefer the Army to the Navy.”