The Cat and the King by Louis Auchincloss Page B

will mean to my poor little wife, who spends her days dancing attendance on her old mother. After all the humiliations I’ve caused her, to be a queen! Fit role, at last, for a princess of the House of Condé!” And then he laughed softly at his own exaltation. “Or am I sounding like a drama of Corneille?”
    â€œDon’t forget they end as tragedies.”
    â€œAnd don’t you be so grim! Your trouble is that you can’t really believe there’s a world outside Versailles. Except, perhaps, at Marly.”
    â€œDon’t underestimate me, sire. Haven’t I said that I might go with you?”
    Conti was suddenly serious as he sensed now that I was. He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Dear friend,” he said gently. Then he was silent a moment. “Perhaps I may send for you later. When all is settled there. There may be... yes, there may be a place for you. But I shall need you here. At first, anyway. Someone, as you may conceive, is very unhappy about all this.”
    â€œShe doesn’t show it.” We both glanced to where Madame la Duchesse was making herself the animated center of the group around Madame de Maintenon.
    â€œDid you think she would?” His hand gripped my shoulder tightly. “Stay, my friend, and keep an eye on her. Poland is not for you.”
    â€œWe’ll see about that!”
    There was a rustle of rising as the king now walked to the center of the room. He waved an arm towards Conti.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen, I present to you the king of Poland!”
    A burst of applause followed, and the king, nodding graciously to Conti, immediately left the room, followed by Madame de Maintenon. Conti was at once surrounded by a circle of congratulating friends, and I moved over to observe Madame la Duchesse.
    Everybody near her, of course, was discussing Conti, and the remarks, particularly of the ladies, were maliciously designed to try her endurance. It was cruel, but how many chances did courtiers have to “get back” at a king’s daughter? She was frequently hard enough on them! Here is a sample of their comments:
    â€œWhat a happy day for Conti! He must be quite overjoyed.”
    â€œIsn’t it splendid, dear Madame, that we should have the House of Bourbon represented on
two
thrones?”
    â€œDo you think the new king will have many regrets at leaving poor old Versailles?”
    â€œSurely not! With such a glorious future he will forget us all in a week’s time!”
    â€œWhat will he call himself? François premier? Of course! As gallant as his namesake.”
    Madame la Duchesse suddenly threw back her head and laughed with a gaiety it was hard to believe was feigned.
    â€œI don’t suppose there are many of us here who would be difficult to forget!” she exclaimed. “No, if I were going to Warsaw, I should have no need of amnesia. The only thing I do not envy my fortunate cousin is the loss of his sovereign. How can it be a happy event to leave the court of the king you all profess to adore?”
    When the princesse de Conti, tiny, dark and dour, approached the circle, Madame la Duchesse rose and curtsied low to the new queen. The latter’s eyes glittered.
    â€œYou must pity us, dear cousin,” she said with a simpering smile. “We leave you in God’s country while we travel north to the land of ice and snow! How shall we manage without your wit and warmth?”
    â€œAh, my dear, you will be in Poland what you have been here: the winter queen!”
    It was typical of her wit. Everyone knew that her term referred to the sexual temperature of Conti’s wife.
    But I was now in for a surprise. As Madame la Duchesse left the group and passed me, she rapped me lightly on the knuckles with her fan and indicated with a brief but imperious nod that I was to follow her. In the gallery, she seated herself on a divan and pointed to the chair beside it.
    â€œI have a bone to pick