Виктория Холт - The Road to Compiegne

Madame du Hausset said: ‘Madame, there is a visitor to see you.’

The Marquise started up; she could not restrain a cry of joy.

‘My dear,’ said the King, ‘it has been too long since we met . . . far too long.’

She knelt at his feet and was kissing his hands, which were wet with her tears. But almost immediately she had risen.

‘But you are in your dressing-gown. And nothing but that cloak to protect you! And the weather as it is . . .’

‘My dearest friend,’ said the King, ‘do not concern yourself for my welfare. I have recovered now.’

‘Praise be to the saints! Oh, Sire, it has been the most wretched time of my life.’

‘I so much regret that I have caused it.’

‘Nay, Sire, that matters not, for now I am happy again.’

‘Let us talk,’ said the King. ‘It would please me.’

‘Anything that pleases Your Majesty has always pleased me.’

‘I know, I know. They have been trying to make a monk of me.’

She laughed; and he laughed with her.

‘A king’s life is not always a happy one,’ he said; ‘yet I think I prefer it to that of a monk.’

‘Your Majesty . . . a monk! Oh no! We could not allow that.’

‘I agree. We could not.’

‘And to see you again overwhelms me.’

‘You suffered, I believe, as I did.’

‘But you have come to visit me, and I am happy again.’

‘I escaped from the company,’ said the King. ‘I found them so completely dull. Now I am with you my spirits feel lightened. I can laugh again.’

‘Sire,’ said the Marquise, ‘may I invite you to sup with me this evening?’

‘The invitation is accepted with alacrity.’

‘Then we will enjoy one of our intimate suppers. We shall invite only the most amusing. How glad I am that I did not allow Monsieur de Machault to drive me from Versailles!’

‘Machault attempted to do that?’

‘He became very important, Sire. He all but shouted “le Roi est mort” – and was in great haste to pay his respects to the Dauphin.’

‘I am disappointed in Machault.’

‘He and d’Argenson together caused me great anxiety and some humiliation.’

‘That is unforgivable,’ said the King.

The Marquise’s eyes began to gleam with triumph, but she said nothing more about her enemies. This moment was important – no reproaches, no recrimination, only plans for future pleasure.

But she saw that he had been unnerved by the experience, and her first task was to restore his confidence. Often he had appeared not to care that he had lost his people’s favour; but the thought of their hating him so much that a section of them had decided on his assassination had deeply depressed him.

She hastened to dismiss that mood.

‘You know, Sire,’ she said, ‘there have been many who wished to make you believe that this horrible act was done at the wish of the people. Nothing could be further from the truth. This man Damiens is simply a madman. There was no conspiracy.’

‘I wish I could be sure of that.’

‘But, Sire, it is obvious. When the people heard what had happened they were horrified. I sent my servants into Paris to discover what was happening, to talk to the people. There was no one who did not feel outraged by this deed. Only love was expressed towards yourself. Why, was not the Jesuit College of Louis le Grand in danger of being attacked! Paris was horrified by the deed. So was the Parlement .’

‘You comfort me as usual.’

‘And, Sire, it is as well that this has happened, because the greatest possible precautions will now be taken against a similar occurrence.’

The King was nodding and smiling while the Marquise was making rapid plans. There must be an amusing evening such as the King had not enjoyed for a long time. A play perhaps. Not cards; perhaps he had decided not to gamble again. Not a ball. He was not well enough to dance. But he would enjoy a play; perhaps with herself taking the principal part.

Madame du Hausset heard the laughter of her mistress mingling with that of the King.

Madame la Marquise has genius, she thought; once more she has come safely through a difficult period.

And when the King returned to his apartment, everyone who saw him noticed that the gloom had left him and that he was smiling to himself.

The news spread rapidly. ‘The Marquise is back in favour, and the King is more devoted than ever.’

D’Argenson and Machault heard the news and trembled.

There were two tasks before the Marquise now; she found no pleasure in them for she hated making enemies, but these two men had shown her quite clearly that if they were allowed to remain at Court they would always be a menace to her.

To secure the fall of d’Argenson had not been difficult; but the King had a great respect for the powers of Machault.

However, such insults as these two had levelled against her could not be overlooked, and the King, having been so promptly whisked out of his melancholia, was eager to reward the Marquise for making his life bright again.

It was true that France was at war, that she was facing a situation which was full of danger and she could use all her shrewd and experienced statesmen; even so, such insults to the Marquise could not be overlooked.

On the first day of February d’Argenson received his lettre da cachet from the King.

Monsieur d’Argenson, as your services are no longer necessary to me, I command you to send in your resignation of the Office of Secretary of State for War and other duties, and to retire to your estate at Ormes.

It was the dismissal which was dreaded by all who hoped to make their way at Court.

D’Argenson was furious. It had come at last. He knew that the Marquise would have been happier if it had come before. Now she had won. He was astonished because, less than a month ago, he thought he had won the battle between them.

Madame d’Argenson came to console him.

‘This is not the end,’ she told him. ‘There is, after all, a life to be lived away from Versailles.’

‘Madame,’ he said. ‘I shall leave for Ormes as the King commands. It is unnecessary for you to give up your life here. You are not exiled.’

Madame d’Argenson turned sadly away. She understood. He would have no need of her. His mistress, Madame d’Estrades, would share his exile.

Machault’s lettre was differently worded and it was clear that Louis sent him away with some regret.

Though assured of your probity, circumstances compel me to ask for your resignation. You will retain your salary and honours. You may rely on my friendship and protection, and may ask for favours for your children.

The King was clearly distressed at having to dismiss a man of whom he thought so highly. But this merely showed how deep was his regard for the Marquise. Machault’s only fault, it seemed in Louis’ eyes, was to have humiliated Madame de Pompadour and although, as Louis himself said, Machault was a man after his own heart, such a fault as he had committed against the King’s dearest friend was enough to bring about his dismissal.

This was a lesson to all.

Any who sought to push the Marquise from her position would be a fool.

So, after the most uneasy days through which she had ever passed, the Marquise had emerged, more powerful than ever before.

Louis had soon forgotten his desire to lead a different sort of life, and it was not long before he was making his way to the Parc aux Cerfs.

Madame Bertrand greeted him with pleasure, declaring that this was one of the happiest days of her life. There was some truth in this, for she had been afraid that she might lose this very lucrative post.