The Road to Compiegne by Jean Plaidy Page A

compete with her.
    She was passing through what could be the most difficult stage of her career. She had become the King’s friend and had abandoned the role of mistress. That was a very bold and dangerous step to have taken – though a necessary one, he could well believe – and a woman would need a great deal of courage to take it.
    But added to her other qualities the Marquise was possessed of great courage.
    He made up his mind.
    He sent a messenger to the apartments of Madame de Pompadour asking if she would see him immediately on a matter of great importance.

    Madame de Pompadour coolly surveyed the Comte de Stainville.
    She knew that he was the author of damaging verses, and she believed him to be her enemy. She gave no sign of this, but received him with the utmost graciousness. He admired her more than ever and congratulated himself on his astuteness in taking the line he had decided upon.
    ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘knowledge has come to me which could deeply concern your welfare.’
    ‘Yes, Monsieur le Comte?’
    ‘It is a letter, in the King’s handwriting, to . . . a certain lady.’
    ‘You wish to show me this letter?’
    ‘I do not carry it with me. I felt it to be too important a document.’
    ‘Why . . . do you tell me of this?’
    ‘Because I felt it was a matter on which you should be informed.’
    ‘I should understand better if you showed me the letter.’
    ‘I may find it in my power to do so.’
    ‘You are . . . asking some . . . reward for this document?’
    ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘it would be enough reward for me if I might consider you my friend.’
    ‘Have your sentiments towards me changed then, Monsieur le Comte? Oh, forgive me. Am I too blunt? You see, this information you offer me . . . it seems so unaccountable, coming whence it does.’
    ‘I understand,’ he told her. ‘There have been differences between us in the past. But it has occurred to me that, in the future, these differences might be smoothed away.’
    ‘I am delighted to hear you say this. I have no wish to be your enemy, Monsieur de Stainville.’
    ‘Perhaps we may be friends. Perhaps we may work together. You, Madame – if you will forgive my impertinence in expressing myself so freely – are an extremely intelligent woman. I believe I myself am not without that valuable asset. We are alike in our ambition, which is to serve His Majesty with zeal and prevent his falling a prey to . . . worthless people.’
    ‘I see, Monsieur de Stainville, that we are indeed of one mind.’
    ‘I am deeply grateful for this interview, Madame. Perhaps I may be allowed to see you tomorrow, when we may discuss this matter further.’
    She bowed her head in assent, although he was aware of a fierce curiosity within her to understand more of what he was hinting.
    He had frightened her. That was what he wanted. She must be made to realise the significance of this matter. He wanted her to remember in the future what he had done for her. To have produced the letter immediately would have made the affair of less importance. Let her spend hours of uncertainty. Let her doubt his motives. When she realised that he was truly eager to set himself on her side, she would be all the more appreciative.
    It was three days later when he gave her the letter which the King had written to the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré. By that time she was in a state of nervous exhaustion, for all that Stainville had told her confirmed her suspicion that the King was enamoured of a woman of the Court, and that this woman and her enemies were working for her own dismissal.

    With the letter in her hands she was exultant. She knew now how to act.
    She went immediately to the King’s apartment.
    ‘How are you, my dear?’ he asked. ‘You look strange. Has something upset you?’
    ‘This,’ she said, ‘has been shown to me.’
    Louis read it and flushed angrily, immediately presuming that the Comtesse de Choiseul-Beaupré, boasting of her conquest, had shown