I lay in my bed and went on thinking about the Dauphin. I wondered whether he was thinking about me, and if so, what his thoughts might be.
Years later when I came to know him very well I saw what he had written in his journal on that night. It was characteristic of him and it told nothing (but by that time I had learned his secret and I knew the
reason for his strange conduct towards me). It simply said: “Interview with Madame la Dauphine.”
The next day we were to leave for the Chateau de la Muette, where we were to spend one night before going to Versailles the next day.
As we set out I was immediately aware that something was wrong. In the first place the King did not accompany us. He had gone on ahead. I wondered why. I learned later that it was because the road to Versailles from La Muette passed Paris, and the King never rode in state near or through his capital if he could help it. He had no intention, on an occasion like this, of receiving the hostile silence of the people. This is why I had seen those cynical looks on the people’s faces in Strasbourg Cathedral when the Prince de Rohan referred to him as Louis the Well-Beloved. When he was a young man he had been called that; but it was a different matter now. The people of Paris hated their King. They were poor, often short of bread, and they were furious because he squandered large sums of money on his palaces and his mistresses while they went hungry.
But this was not the matter which was causing great uneasiness among my friends. Mercy was in a state of uncertainty and had dispatched couriers to Vienna. The Abbe looked worried and so did Starhemburg. I wished they would, tell me what was wrong but of course they did not.
I had noticed, however, the looks of sly amusement on the faces of some of my women. Something was going to happen at La Muette.
On the way we called at the Carmelite Convent of St. Denis where I was to be presented to Louise, the fourth aunt—youngest sister of Adelaide, Victoire and Sophie. I was interested in Louise; she was different from the other three, and although I should have been sorry for her because she limped painfully and was pitiably deformed, with one shoulder higher than the other, I wasn’t, because she seemed so much happier than her three sisters. Dignified and, in spite of her Abbess’s habit, behaving like a royal personage, she was very friendly and seemed to sense that I wanted to talk to somebody, so she asked me many questions and talked about herself too, telling me how much happier she was at the convent than in the royal palaces, and that treasures on earth were not found in palaces. She had known this for a long time and had made up her mind that she wished to live her life in seclusion as an expiation of Sin.
I could not imagine that she had been very sinful and my expression must have conveyed this, for she said rather fiercely: “My own sins and those of another.”
Questions trembled on my lips. What other? But when ever I was about to ask some indiscreet question which would no doubt bring an interesting answer, I would see my mother’s face warning me against any lighthearted indiscretions, and pause. Then it would be too late.
As we came nearer to La Muette, Mercy’s preoccupation grew deeper. I heard him whisper to Starhemburg: “There is nothing nothing we can do.
That he should have chosen this time it is inconceivable. “
My attention was caught by the people who lined the route, particularly as we drew nearer to Paris. We did not enter the city but wound our way round it and the cheers were deafening. So I smiled and inclined my head as I had been taught to do; and the people shouted that I was mignon ne and I forgot all about Mercy’s worries because I always enjoyed this kind of applause so much.
I was rather sorry when we came to La Muette. The King was already there and waiting to present my brothers-in-law to me. The Comte de Provence was fourteen years old in fact he was sixteen days younger than I was and much more handsome than the Dauphin, but inclined to be a little plump, like his elder brother. He was more lively, though, and he seemed very interested in me. His brother, the Comte d’Artois, was a year or so younger than I, but there was a lively knowledgeable look in his eyes which made him seem older than his two brothers more worldly-wise, I mean. He took my hand and kissed it lingeringly, while his bold eyes were very admiring, and as I was always responsive to admiration I preferred Artois of the two brothers—perhaps of the three. But I was not going to bring the Dauphin into the comparison.
In fact I was trying not to think of the Dauphin, because to do so bewildered me a great deal and depressed me a little. In fact I did not know what to think of him and I was certainly afraid to think too deeply; so I successfully managed to put him from my mind. I could always live in the present, and there was plenty to occupy my thoughts.
Meanwhile, having met my two brothers-in-law, I must be prepared for the banquet which was to be eaten in private-a family affair and therefore much more intimate than all the others I had attended. Now I should be in the very heart of my new family.
The King came to my apartments and told me he had a gift for me, which was a casket of jewels. These delighted me, and he in turn was delighted to see my pleasure, and kept saying how enchanting it was to be young and so excited over trifles. Then he took from the casket a pearl necklace and held it up. Each pearl was the size of a hazelnut and they were all of perfect matching colour.
“It was brought to France by Anne of Austria,” he told me.
“So how fitting that it should be worn by another Princess from Austria ! This necklace was worn by my mother and by my wife. It is the property of all the Dauphines and Queens of France.”
As he ceremoniously fastened it himself, his fingers lingered on my neck and he said the pearls had never been shown to greater perfection. I had beautiful shoulders and when I grew up I would be a beautiful woman, an ornament to the throne of France.
I thanked him demurely, and then I looked up at him and flung my arms about his neck. This was wrong, I saw immediately from Madame de Noailles, who was standing by nearly fainting with horror at my presumption; but I did not care and nor did he.
He murmured: “Charming … charming. I am writing to your mother to tell her that we are all enchanted by her daughter.”
He was smiling as he left.
I then received a long lecture from Madame de Noailles as to how I should conduct myself in the presence of the King of France; but I was not listening. I was thinking that if they had married me to him as they had once thought of doing I should have been far less apprehensive than I was when I remembered that the next day was my wedding day.
At the intimate supper I saw all my new relations. Wearing the pearl necklace which the King had placed round my neck, I sat next to the Dauphin, who said nothing to me and did not look my way; but his brother Artois smiled at me and whispered that I looked very pretty.
I was immediately aware of the tense atmosphere, and my attention was caught by a young woman who was seated at the table talking rather more loudly than the rest. I had not been introduced to her, and as this was a family party I could not imagine who she was. She was very beautiful the most beautiful woman at the table. Her hair was fair, very thick and curling; her complexion was one of the loveliest I have ever seen; her blue eyes were enormous, being slightly prominent; and she lisped slightly, which made a contrast to her bold looks. She was magnificently dressed, and glittered with jewels; in fact she wore more jewels than anyone present. One could not help watching her, and even the King, at the head of the table, kept glancing her way;
he seemed very pleased to see her there, and once or twice I saw them exchange a look and a smile which made me feel they were very great friends indeed. But, I wondered, if the King was so fond of her, why is she not wanted here? The aunts were whispering together, and when she was not observed I noticed Adelaide throw a glance in the woman’s direction which could only be described as venomous. Every now and then the King would turn to me and address me, and when I answered in my quaint French he would smile, and so would everyone else. He said my French was charming, and so everyone was saying it. I felt it was a successful evening and I could not imagine why Mercy had been so anxious.
At last my curiosity was too much to be borne, and I said to the lady who was seated next to me: “Who is the pretty lady with the blue eyes and the lisp?”
There was a brief silence as though I had said something embarrassing.
Had Madame de Noailles been there I should have known how much so by her expression.
I waited for the answer, which seemed a long time in coming, and then:
“She is Madame du Barry, Madame la Dauphine.”
