She drew her hand from his, made self-conscious by Monsieur’s opinion of her skin.
“Come along, my dear Chevalier,” Monsieur said, loudly, heartily. “You must give my brother the King a challenge at billiards.” He took Lorraine’s elbow and guided him around. Chartres followed, stumbling slightly, not only from his lameness.
Marie-Josèphe curtsied, but the three men had already turned away.
Lorraine looked over his shoulder and stretched out his hand to her with a pathetic sigh.
Madame seized Marie-Josèphe by the arm.
“If your brother will not save me from boredom, you must!” she said. “Come along, we’ll find a quiet corner.”
“Madame, how can you be bored?”
“How can you not, Mlle de la Croix? Never mind, you’ll understand after you’ve attended a year of these interminable evenings. I’d rather be writing letters, or working on my collections. I do so look forward to Father de la Croix’ medal. I hope it will be very dramatic.”
She found a bench in an alcove by the window and settled into it. She could not offer Marie-Josèphe a seat in her presence in public, even had she wished to, even had the idea occurred to her.
“I can tell you nothing of my brother’s voyage,” Marie-Josèphe said. “I’ve had hardly a minute of his time since he returned.”
“Then you must tell me something else extraordinary — something to write to Raugrafin Sophie, back home.”
“The sea monster sings — just like a bird. And it speaks like a parrot.”
“Does it now! Perhaps you can train it to entertain His Majesty.”
“I could, if I had time, though it’s very fierce. It frightened one of the workmen, and he nearly struck us both.”
“He struck you!”
“No, no, he failed, because Count Lucien — now do not laugh! — stopped the brute.”
“Why would I laugh? M. de Chrétien punished the villain, I hope!”
“Yes. He goes unarmed — but he shielded me with his cane.”
“That is no less than I would expect from someone of Count Lucien’s breeding.”
“Madame... may I ask you something?”
“My dear, you honor me! Even my children never ask my advice — as you might notice, from Chartres’ horrible marriage.”
“I fear it might be indiscreet.”
“Ah, indiscreet? Even better.”
“Is Count Lucien very brave, or is he foolhardy?”
“How, foolhardy?”
“He placed himself, unarmed, between me and the brute. He ignores fashion. And he spoke to His Holiness in such a way — !”
“What use would a sword have been? He could hardly challenge someone of the lower classes, even if His Majesty allowed duels, which he does not. No doubt the assailant realized himself lucky, for Count Lucien could have ordered his servants to thrash the man.”
Madame nodded toward the other corner of the room, where Count Lucien spoke with Mme la marquise de la Fère. The auburn perruke and gold lace of the King’s pet courtier shone in the candlelight.
“As for fashion — how do you find him objectionable?” Madame smiled mischievously. “Mme de la Fère finds him satisfactory, and her taste is impeccable.
Perhaps you compare our fashions to those in Martinique?”
“Oh, no, Madame! Martinique has no fashion. We begged news of every ship that entered the harbor of Fort de France. The officers were of little help. The passengers —they sometimes told us what was fashionable in Paris, the previous season.”
“I care nothing for fashion,” Madame said quite truthfully. She did not dress as drably as Mme de Maintenon, being not nearly so ostentatiously devout, but she seldom wore many jewels on her court habit, seldom chose bright colors, and always covered her ample bosom with a palatine. “I would delight in living in Fort de France.”
“I lived the last five years in a convent. There was no question of fashion in the convent.”
“How did you come, then, to judge M. de Chrétien’s attire?”
“The young ladies at Saint-Cyr, Madame. When they did not speak of religion —though that was seldom — they spoke of court, and of His Majesty, and of every new style.”
Madame chuckled. “The old trollop hasn’t pressed them under her heel as well as she believes. I’m glad to hear it.”
“They say, at court only a young officer — on leave from his regiment — should cultivate a mustache, and tie his hair, and untie his cravat. I suppose M. de Chrétien cannot quite carry a sword, but...”
“Tonight he is clean-shaven, and his perruke is in the proper style.”
“Perhaps someone whispered to him,” Marie-Josèphe said hesitantly, “not to appear as an officer?”
“Whyever not?” Madame, too, lowered her voice. “I do not say His Majesty would overlook any officer, who attended him in boots still dusty from the battlefield, and with his perruke knotted. But I do say he would not rebuke M. de Chrétien.”