‘Berry is always quiet,’ said Clothilde.
‘I love poor Berry,’ Elisabeth told her.
‘Grandfather is sad when he thinks of him,’ said Provence. ‘Grandfather tries not to think of things that make him sad, and that is why he thinks so little of Berry.’
‘Berry is more happy with common people than with his family and the nobles of the Court,’ added Artois. ‘It has always been so. He will talk to Gamin and be perfectly at ease; but with us … or Grandfather … he has scarcely a word to say.’
‘He is very sad,’ said Clothilde thoughtfuly, ‘when he sees the poor people in the streets. If he can do it without anyone’s knowing, he gives money to the poor.’
‘Then he is kind,’ stated Antoinette.
‘So your husband satisfies you, Madame?’ put in Artois. ‘What would you say if I told you that at this moment, instead of seeking your company, he is engaged with the workmen in his apartment? He is having a new wall built, and there he is working with the men. When that wall is built he will want to pull it down and build another. It is not that he wishes for a wall. It is building and such labour that he likes so much; he likes the conversation of the men.’
‘Let us go and see how the work progresses,’ suggested Provence.
‘So you think we might?’ asked Antoinette.
‘Madame de Marsan said we were to entertain the Dauphine in the nursery, and not leave the apartment,’ said Elisabeth.
Artois was haughty. ‘Then you stay, little sister, since you are afraid of your gouvernante.’
‘She will be angry if we disobey.’
‘I doubt not,’ said Antoinette, ‘that it is not etiquette to visit the Dauphin’s apartment while he is with the workmen. In that case there is nothing I wish to do so much as visit the Dauphin and his workmen.’
Her two brothers-in-law laughed approvingly.
‘It is a sin,’ said Artois softly, coming close to her and laying his hand on her arm, ‘to shut such as you, Madame la Dauphine, in with Etiquette.’
‘Madame de Noailles is a good woman, I doubt not,’ said Antoinette, ‘but she thinks of nothing but the conventions; I call her Madame Etiquette. Come, let us go and see the Dauphin and his men at work.’ She took Elisabeth’s hand. ‘If your gouvemante should scold, I will tell her that you came at my command.’
‘Let us stay here and dance,’ said Artois. ‘Do you dance the French dances, dear sister?’
‘I was taught to dance them.’
‘Let us try a step or two.’
Antoinette always enjoyed dancing, so she allowed Artois to take her hand and lead her into the middle of the apartment. Clothilde held out her hand to Provence who looked at her with scorn; his eyes were sullen as he watched his brother and sister-in-law. They made a graceful pair.
Clothilde clapped her hands and cried: ‘Your steps fit perfectly.’
‘Do you think I dance the French dances like a French woman?’ asked Antoinette of her partner.
‘You dance them with more perfection than anyone – French or otherwise – ever did before.’
‘You flatter me, brother. You will be telling me next that I speak perfect French.’
‘But the French you speak is more enchanting than all other French, because none speaks it quite like you.’
‘I have been scolded often because I speak it so badly.’
‘Then those who scolded should in turn be scolded. I would rather listen to your French than that spoken by anyone else.’
They were aware of a slight tension among the other children who had become silent.
Antoinette turned and saw that a woman had come into the apartment. She was saying to Provence: ‘Pardon, my lord. I thought to find Madame de Marsan.’
‘I know not where she is,’ said Provence haughtily; and the woman retired.
Artois led Antoinette back to the group. ‘She came here to spy, of course,’ he said.
‘Spy?’ cried the Dauphine. ‘But why to spy?’
‘Mon Dieu, I know not,’ said Provence.
‘She is one of the aunts’ women,’ added Artois. ‘They spy on us continually. And now of course you are here, and you are the wife of the heir to the throne, so you are doubly worth spying upon.’
‘You mean they will say that we should not dance … that we have offended against mighty Etiquette by dancing?’
‘I doubt not they will say that. And you and I danced together – ah, that will make them nod their fusty old heads together, and Loque, Coche and Graille will mutter that it is all very scandalous.’
‘Who are these?’ asked Antoinette.
‘Loque, Coche and Graille? Oh, those are Grandfather’s names for them. Is your French not good enough to understand, sister? Loque means rags and tatters, Coche is an old sow, and Graille a crow. There you see what His Majesty the King thinks of his three daughters!’
‘It does not seem as though he employs the etiquette when speaking of them,’ said Antoinette with a giggle. ‘The names suit them. But I should not say that, for they have been kind to me.’
‘Kind! They have questioned you doubtless … asked many questions about you and Berry. They’ll not be kind. Tante Adelaide knows not how to be. As for Victoire, she is a fool, and Sophie is another – they do all Adelaide tells them to.’
‘I am no longer in the mood to dance,’ said Antoinette. ‘Let us go and see the building of the wall.’
Three men were busy working in the Dauphin’s apartment, and it was some seconds before Antoinette recognised one of these as her husband. When they entered he had been talking naturally with the men, shouting orders, giving advice. He carried a pail in his hands, and his eyelashes were white with dust which also clung to his clothes. As soon as he saw the members of his family a subtle change came over him.
‘So, Berry, you have become a workman,’ said Artois.
‘Ah … yes,’ stammered the Dauphin. ‘I wanted this work done and I … thought I would supervise it myself.’
‘It is very clever of you,’ said Antoinette.
‘Not clever at all. You see, I wished for a partition here, and then I have had the floorboards taken up and replaced. We have much work to do here yet.’
Provence yawned. ‘What a mess!’ he murmured.
Artois said: ‘I feel this atmosphere chokes me. Berry, why do you not give instructions and leave these fellows to carry them out?’
The Dauphin did not answer. Clothilde said: ‘We have been dancing. Berry, why do you not come and dance with us?’
‘He prefers to stay here,’ said Elisabeth. She was smiling with great affection at her eldest brother. ‘It is more interesting to make something, is it not, Berry, than to dance.’
‘But to dance is to make something also,’ insisted Artois. ‘Pleasure, shall we say, for oneself and one’s partner.’
Clothilde put in: ‘Walls last longer than the pleasure of dancing.’
‘How can you say how long pleasure lasts?’ demanded Artois. ‘It could live in the memory. As for the walls built by my brother – they last only until he pulls them down, because he wants to start building them all over again.’
As they talked one of the workmen fell from his ladder; he let out a cry of alarm and then lay silent on the floor.
Antoinette ran to him and knelt beside him while her silk gown trailed in the dust and dirt.
‘He is badly hurt,’ she cried; ‘bring me some hot water, Elisabeth. I will bathe his wound. I think we should send for a doctor.’
Artois said: ‘You are spoiling your dress. Come away. We will send someone to deal with this man. You should not do that.’
‘So I should let him bleed to death,’ cried Antoinette scornfully, ‘because it is not etiquette for me to help him! No. I shall do as I wish. Get me bandages and hot water. You, Clothilde. You, Elisabeth.’