childish, and he had brought his mistress to supper to insult me. It was all an elaborate piece of playacting to hide something underneath, which was sinister and frightening.
“You should not be disturbed,” said Adelaide.
“We are your friends.”
She looked at her sisters, who all began to nod.
“You shall come to us when you wish. You shall use your own key to these apartments. There! Does that not show you how we love you I We are your friends. Trust us. We will teach you how to make Berry a good husband. But always come to us and we will help you.”
Adelaide made coffee in her apartments. She was rather proud of this achievement and would allow no servant to do it.
“The King taught me,” she said.
“He used to make it in his apartment and bring it here, when we were younger. Then I would ring for Victoire and before she came she would ring for Sophie, and before Sophie came she would ring for Louise … this was before she went into her convent. She went there, you know, not only to save her own soul, but the King’s. She prays for him constantly, because she fears he may die with all his sins upon him. What if he died in bed with that putain beside him! Louise had a long way to come and by the time she arrived the King would be ready to leave, so there was often only time for her to kiss him before he went. Those were happy days … before that woman came here. Of course there was the Pompadour before her. The King has always been the prey of women. But there was a time” Her eyes became dreamy.
“One grows old. I was his favourite daughter, you know. He used to call me Loque then. It was meant to be a pet name. He still calls me by it; and Victoire is Coche. “
“Because I am so fond of eating,” put in Victoire.
“It has made me a little fat… but not like a pig.”
“Sophie was Graille and Louise Chiffe. Our father likes to give people names. He always called our brother’s wife ” Poor Pepa. ” She was Marie Josephe, you see. I have rarely heard him refer to your husband other than as ” Poor Berry”. ” Why were these two poor? “
“Pepa because when she came here her husband did not want her. He had been married before and loved his first wife, and on his second wedding night he cried in his new wife’s aims for the first one. But she was patient and he loved her in time and then he died. So she was Poor Pepa. And Poor Berry … Well, he is different from most young men so he is Poor Berry for that reason.”
“I wonder if he minds.”
“Poor Berry! He doesn’t care about anything but hunting, reading, playing with locks, and building….”
“And eating,” said Victoire, “Poor Berry I’ sighed Adelaide; and they all sighed with her.
When I left them I seemed to have learned a great deal! about the royal family which I had not known before. I had the key to the aunts’ apartments. I would use it often, for at least with them I could escape the rigid etiquette of Madame de Noailles.
At the ball which was given a few days later there was trouble on a point of etiquette. It was all due to the fact that on this occasion—because the ball was being given in honour i of me—the Princes of Lorraine had asked that their House should take precedence over all others, for my father had been Francois of Lorraine and they claimed kinship with me. Thus Mademoiselle de Lorraine, who was a distant] cousin, believed she should, for this occasion only, take the floor in a minuet ahead of all the other ladies. The Duchesses of the Royal House were outraged and there was a great deal of activity throughout the Palace. I heard that the King was pacing up and down his apartment deeply disturbed by his dilemma.
To refuse the Lorraines’ request would be an insult to the House of Austria; to agree to it would be an insult to the Houses of Orleans, Conde and Conti.
Never had their etiquette seemed to me so silly. The King had allowed Madame du Barry to sit at table with me and yet he appeared to think I should be offended if a distant cousin did not take precedence over his near relations I I made up my mind that as far as possible I should not be a slave to their foolish etiquette.
However, the controversy continued, and finally the King decided in favour of the Lorraines, at which the Royal Duchesses declined to attend, pleading indisposition.
I scarcely noticed their absence. I danced—and how I loved to dance I I felt happier dancing than doing anything else. I danced with my husband, who was very clumsy and constantly turning to the right when be should have gone to the left. I laughed aloud and he gave me his slow smile and said: “I am no good at this!” and that seemed a great advance in our relationship. Dancing with my youngest brother-in-law was different. He was a natural dancer. He told me I looked beautiful, that Berry was the luckiest man at Court and he hoped he realised it.
That seemed like a question. I parried it, but I found myself growing lighthearted in his company. It was wonderful to be with someone of my own age with whom I had something in common. Artois laughed at everything, as I wanted to, and I was certain we were going to be friends. Then I danced with young Chartres, the son of the Due d’Orleans, whom I did not like at all. He was gracious but his cold eyes reminded me of a snake. It was my first close contact’ with him, and I wondered whether I had a premonition on that night, and that something warned me that he was going to be our enemy.
These people were so different from my own, and however much they dressed me in French clothes, whatever French manners and customs I adopted, I would always be Austrian. We were unsubtle, more natural, uncultured perhaps; we might seem crude in comparison; we were not witty; but we were easy to understand. We said what we meant and we did not hide our true feelings under a mound of etiquette. Everywhere there was etiquette. I was being suffocated by it. I wanted to scream out that I was tired of it; I wanted to kick it aside, to laugh at it; and to tell them that if they wanted it they could have it, but to leave me out of it.
How could I know that that ball at which I had enjoyed dancing so much with Artois and even with my own awkward husband, was a dismal failure, and that I was blamed for it. My relations had spoilt it.
Little Lorraine was more important than Orleans and Conde because of me. They had been mortally insulted and I should never be forgiven.
They made up their minds on that night that they would be no friends to me, although whenever we met afterwards they gave no sign. But they were not showing affection to me, they were only paying homage to the Dauphine of France. What a little fool I was! And there was no one to help me except Mercy, whom I tried to avoid, and my mother, who was miles away. I was alone and walking blindly into danger, only like everything French it did not seem like danger at this stage; and I did not know that what looked like soft green grass was really a quagmire . not until I was deep in it and could not extricate myself. A clever woman might have found it difficult to act wisely in such a Court. What hope had a frivolous, ignorant young girl?
It was some weeks after my wedding, and in all that time my husband had only spoken a few sentences to me. Whenever I saw the King he was so charming to me that I forgot what Mercy and the aunts had told me.
I believed that he loved me; I even called him Papa, for I said that Grandfather sounded too old for him. There had been so many fetes and balls that I had forgotten my fears. My brother-in-law Artois was constantly in my company; I had paid several visits to the aunts; I had forgotten my previous uneasiness; perhaps I did not want to think of it. It was much more fun to be gay and believe everyone loved me and that I was a great success.
Madame Adelaide was taking me to see the fireworks, and I was going incognito to Paris because my official entry into the capital must, of course, be a ceremonious one. I had so longed to see the fireworks and Adelaide, always ready to enter into a conspiracy, declared she would take me. I thought wistfully that my husband might have taken me. What fun it would have been if he were as gay as Artois and we had disguised ourselves and driven there together. But he was either hunting or with the locksmith; the King was at Bellevue with Madame du Barry;, and so why should I not go, said Adelaide; and we set off in her carriage.
She seemed less strange when her sisters were not present. I believed she imagined she must appear stranger than she actually was in order to impress them and keep her supremacy over them; and she was very friendly as we rode along together towards Paris.
It was a great function, she told me. She had been informed of all that was being done to honour me. All along the Champs-Elysees, the trees were decorated with lamps which would be delightful when it was dusk. The centre of activities would be the Place Louis XV, where a Corinthian temple had been erected close to the King’s statue and there were also figures of dolphins and a great picture of myself and the Dauphin in a medallion. Bergamot had been poured on the banks of the Seine to disguise the foul odours which sometimes arose from that
