temper like mine to get in her way, Sophie thought. It was stupid of her, she knew, to forget one of the primary rules of the household—a household where many things more immoral than profane language went unpunished, because they were hidden beneath a surface of carefully polished gentility. Sophie’s anger and frustration at herself propelled her through the streets of Paris. If only that silly little Émilie had brought the shoes back like she told her to! Perhaps she should go back and find Monsieur Charpentier, ask him where Émilie was and what happened to the satin slippers. It did seem odd that the singer just vanished after the soirée. Everything she heard from the servants indicated that Émilie had had a huge success. If the truth were known—but no, the fact would remain that she, Sophie, had borrowed the princess’s shoes without permission and had used foul language in front of the housekeeper.
And now I’m homeless, Sophie thought.
Because the truth was, she had no friends. She had, in fact, come to the Hôtel de Guise under a bit of a cloud. Her ambitious father, a low-level clerk, realized several years before that his pubescent girl was developing the kind of physical characteristics that might get noticed at court, thus giving him the possibility of obtaining some sinecure—if she struck a nobleman’s (or even the king’s) fancy. It was not an unreasonable ambition: many had founded their hopes on less.
He had a friend of a friend who secured Sophie a position at Versailles as a lady’s maid to Louise de La Vallière, the king’s official mistress at that time. Once installed in the opulence of the court, Sophie developed a taste for a life of ease and luxury. She soon learned that her curly, strawberry blond hair and effusively curvaceous body were irresistible to men. Even the unnaturally long waistlines of fashionable gowns could not hide her proportions, and the off-the-shoulder court dress preferred by Louis made the amplitude of her bosom all too apparent. She was not taken by surprise when one day she was summoned to attend the king in his bedchamber late the next night. Having already tasted the delights of the flesh with one of the courtiers, Sophie was not afraid to be so honored by the king.
But what to Sophie was a naughty frolic was to others a matter of life or death. At the time when Louis XIV was eyeing Sophie for a night of fun, the Marquise de Montespan had begun her campaign to win him away from Louise de La Vallière, and she was damned if she would let some bookkeeper’s daughter deflect her from her purpose. On the morning of Sophie’s assignation with the king, one of the kitchen staff was bribed to put something suspicious in her food. Sophie had a healthy appetite and did not notice any difference in the taste of her soup. She felt queasy all day but was determined to go through with the rendezvous, afraid to let the opportunity slip by. By the time she arrived in the king’s bedchamber late that night, Sophie was green. She took one look at His Majesty in his silk shift and promptly vomited all over him.
This was too much for the king, and the pretty maid was ordered to pack her bags and leave. Madame de La Vallière (who had no idea what had happened but who suspected some treachery) felt sorry for her and gave her a letter of introduction to Mademoiselle de Guise. As far as this venerable lady was concerned, anyone who vomited over her power-hungry cousin was welcome in her establishment, and so Sophie joined the household, where she had remained these five years.
Sophie stopped at the corner of the rue des Blancs Manteaux. People rushed past without noticing her. Snatches of conversation came and went as she stood and tried to figure out what to do next. She hugged herself for warmth. Foolish not at least to go and fetch her cloak, she thought. Sophie continued walking. Just as easy to think and move at the same time.
Who would take care of Mademoiselle? She
And now I’m homeless, Sophie thought.
Because the truth was, she had no friends. She had, in fact, come to the Hôtel de Guise under a bit of a cloud. Her ambitious father, a low-level clerk, realized several years before that his pubescent girl was developing the kind of physical characteristics that might get noticed at court, thus giving him the possibility of obtaining some sinecure—if she struck a nobleman’s (or even the king’s) fancy. It was not an unreasonable ambition: many had founded their hopes on less.
He had a friend of a friend who secured Sophie a position at Versailles as a lady’s maid to Louise de La Vallière, the king’s official mistress at that time. Once installed in the opulence of the court, Sophie developed a taste for a life of ease and luxury. She soon learned that her curly, strawberry blond hair and effusively curvaceous body were irresistible to men. Even the unnaturally long waistlines of fashionable gowns could not hide her proportions, and the off-the-shoulder court dress preferred by Louis made the amplitude of her bosom all too apparent. She was not taken by surprise when one day she was summoned to attend the king in his bedchamber late the next night. Having already tasted the delights of the flesh with one of the courtiers, Sophie was not afraid to be so honored by the king.
But what to Sophie was a naughty frolic was to others a matter of life or death. At the time when Louis XIV was eyeing Sophie for a night of fun, the Marquise de Montespan had begun her campaign to win him away from Louise de La Vallière, and she was damned if she would let some bookkeeper’s daughter deflect her from her purpose. On the morning of Sophie’s assignation with the king, one of the kitchen staff was bribed to put something suspicious in her food. Sophie had a healthy appetite and did not notice any difference in the taste of her soup. She felt queasy all day but was determined to go through with the rendezvous, afraid to let the opportunity slip by. By the time she arrived in the king’s bedchamber late that night, Sophie was green. She took one look at His Majesty in his silk shift and promptly vomited all over him.
This was too much for the king, and the pretty maid was ordered to pack her bags and leave. Madame de La Vallière (who had no idea what had happened but who suspected some treachery) felt sorry for her and gave her a letter of introduction to Mademoiselle de Guise. As far as this venerable lady was concerned, anyone who vomited over her power-hungry cousin was welcome in her establishment, and so Sophie joined the household, where she had remained these five years.
Sophie stopped at the corner of the rue des Blancs Manteaux. People rushed past without noticing her. Snatches of conversation came and went as she stood and tried to figure out what to do next. She hugged herself for warmth. Foolish not at least to go and fetch her cloak, she thought. Sophie continued walking. Just as easy to think and move at the same time.
Who would take care of Mademoiselle? She
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