‘Etienne!’
Choiseul laid his hand lightly on his sister’s lips.
‘Silence, sweet one, for the moment. We can wait. We have learned to wait. Let us wait a little longer . . . only a little longer.’
‘Ambitious dreams, Etienne,’ she said.
‘Great honours, my sister, invariably begin as ambitious dreams.’
‘The two of us together, brother! Is there any limit to the heights we can climb?’
‘Only the summit is our limit, sister. Wait and see. The future is rosy for the Duc de Choiseul, and all the glory that shall ever be his he swears he will share with her whom he loves; beyond all others.’
There were occasions when it was necessary, greatly to the King’s regret, for him to visit Paris.
The people had now forgotten his brief return to favour when they thought him to be dying from the knife-thrust of Damiens. They did not call abuse at him as he rode their streets; they merely gave him sullen looks and silence. Indeed, such was his dignity that it was almost impossible to abuse him in his presence.
He sat in his carriage, erect, seemingly indifferent to the mood of his people.
Crowds gathered to see him pass, as they had ever done, and it was only when the carriage had rumbled on that the murmuring would break out.
As his carriage passed by the gardens of the Tuileries his eye was suddenly caught by a fair-haired child with her father, who was clearly an old soldier.
The girl was richly though by no means elegantly dressed, and her father was bending down to her. Louis could imagine the words he was saying to her. ‘See, there he is. There is the King.’
The girl’s beautiful blue eyes were wide with excitement. She pointed to the carriage. Louis leaned a little forward and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement of her gesture.
He saw the glowing smile on her face.
A charming child, he thought. To see her has made the journey worthwhile.
She must be very young. He guessed she would be something under fourteen. Girls of that age seemed to him particularly delightful. They had a certain innocence which was lost later.
He wondered who she was, and thought how pleasant it would be to take her hands, embrace her and tell her that it made her King very happy to think that he had a subject such as she was.
On his return to Versailles, he sent for Le Bel.
‘I saw a charming child in the Tuileries gardens today,’ he said.
‘And Your Majesty wishes to make her acquaintance?’
‘She was such a pretty creature, but odiously dressed. Her gown was pink and she wore jewellery, obviously false. I should like to see a child as pretty as that well dressed. She pointed at the carriage. I should like to have such a pretty child taught how to behave.’
‘If your Majesty will tell me her name . . .’
‘I do not know her name. I but saw her as I passed the Tuileries.’
‘Sire, it will not be easy to find her if we do not know her name nor where she lives. There are many young girls who go to the Tuileries gardens.’
‘You give up too easily,’ said the King.
Le Bel sweated with apprehension. ‘Sire, I will search every street in Paris. If that child is to be found, I shall find her.’
‘In the meantime send for Sartines. We will ask his help.’
Le Bel was displeased. He knew that Sartines had discovered Mademoiselle de Romans, but he was annoyed that the Lieutenant of Police should take on duties which previously he had considered his own – to be shared of course with the othet valets de chambre.
When Sartines arrived, clearly delighted to be called on the King’s mission, Louis kept Le Bel with him while he explained what he expected from these two.
‘Monsieur Sartines,’ he said, ‘you are a Lieutenant of Police. You should be able to bring me a young girl whom I saw today in the gardens of the Tuileries.’
‘She shall be brought to you immediately, Sire,’ said Sartines.
‘When you find her,’ added the King, while Le Bel smiled sardonically.
‘Le Bel, I suspect, despairs of finding her,’ said the King.
Sartines smiled. ‘We of the police have our methods.’
‘As I thought,’ said the King. ‘Perhaps you can teach some of them to Le Bel.’
‘His Majesty saw the child with her father in the Tuileries gardens,’ said Le Bel. ‘She is fair-haired, blue-eyed, under fourteen and very beautiful. Her father is an old soldier. That is all the description we have. But I have no doubt, Monsieur, with your efficient police methods you will have little difficulty in finding such a child among the crowds of Paris.’
Sartines put his head on one side.
‘This young lady was not in a carriage, Sire?’
‘No, on foot,’ said the King.
‘And she was well dressed?’
‘In a hideous rose-coloured gown which fortunately could not disguise her grace. It was clearly a new gown.’
‘Then depend upon it,’ said Sartines, ‘if the family have no carriage they cannot be rich, and the young lady will wear the gown frequently on her journeys to the gardens. As she had no carriage it is very possible that she lives near the Tuileries gardens, for it is hardly likely that she would have walked far in this rose-coloured gown.’
The King laughed and laid one hand on Sartines’ shoulder, the other on Le Bel’s.
‘You see, Le Bel,’ he said, ‘how wise we were to call in the police. Go, my friends, work together. I do not wish to see my good friend Le Bel unhappy. Bring this child to me. Tell her parents that they will never regret putting her into my care.’
The valet de chambre and the Lieutenant of Police bowed themselves out and set about their task.
Sartines was smiling contentedly; finding girls for the King was a more profitable business than hunting criminals for the law.
‘The first one we’ll ask is the lemonade-seller on the terrace,’ said Sartines. ‘If this girl is brought often to the gardens, he will be more likely to know her than anyone else. He is an old friend of mine.’
The lemonade-seller did not seem very pleased to see his old friend Sartines.
He was obviously on the alert and had a look of guilt. Sartines was not proposing to worry him about whatever he might have on his conscience; he had come for information which the lemonade-man need not be afraid to give him.
‘Good day to you, my friend. What heat, eh! A drink of lemonade? That is exactly what we need on a day such as this.’
‘Exactly,’ said Le Bel.
They sat on the steps of the terrace and drank the lemonade which was served to them.
‘We want your help,’ Sartines began.
‘Monsieur,’ protested the lemonade-seller, ‘I have done nothing. I cannot think why the police will not leave me in peace.’
‘It is not about yourself that we wish to question you.’
‘It is about a certain young lady,’ said Le Bel.
‘Who is he?’ asked the lemonade-seller suspiciously – indicating Le Bel.
‘A gentleman of Versailles.’
The lemonade-seller grinned. He told himself that he was a member of the police more likely, dressed up to look different.
Le Bel said impatiently: ‘Have you noticed a young lady – a child almost – who was here yesterday with her father? She was dressed very well in pink. The father was an old soldier and they came to see the King drive by.’
The lemonade-seller screwed up his face. ‘What have they done?’ he asked.
‘Nothing for which they can be blamed.’