‘Good night, Sophie. Sleep well.’
I almost pushed her out and she went away to dream of her incomparable Charles whom she did not really know at all.
When she had gone I put on a wrap, for I felt a great urge to talk to Lisette. I wondered if I should tell her what had happened. She was very worldly. She would probably think nothing of it and say that what Sophie did not know could not grieve her.
I went along to her room and knocked gently. There was no answer.
I opened the door quietly and tiptoed in. I went to the edge of her bed and whispered: ‘Lisette. Are you asleep? Wake up. I want to talk.’
My eyes had grown accustomed to the gloom and I saw that Lisette’s bed was empty.
During the days which followed I saw a great deal of Charles de Tourville for whenever possible he contrived to be at my side. I tried to keep up an air of frigid disapproval, for disapprove of him I most certainly did; but I found myself looking for him and being disappointed if he were not there. I could not understand myself but I enjoyed talking to him. I tried to insult him at every turn. I endeavoured to convey to him how much I despised his way of life; but I could not hide from myself the fact that I enjoyed berating him—and he was shrewd enough to know it.
The fact was that I was bewildered. I was too young to realize what was happening. I was not afraid of life, as Sophie was; I was avid for it. I was ready to rush forward and savour it without wondering what the consequences would be. When I understood myself better I realized that my nature was by no means frigid. I wanted experience. Dickon had aroused me when I had been too young to realize that I was being physically stimulated and I had sublimated my feelings for him into a devotion and what I thought of as abiding love. Now Charles de Tourville came along and he reminded me so much of Dickon that I could not help being attracted to him.
I was young and ignorant, and although he was not old in years he was in experience. I think he understood exactly what was happening to me and found it very diverting. Since he was the sort of man who would visit an establishment like that of Madame Rougemont, he was no doubt in search of fresh sensation and a young girl such as I could provide just that. I gathered later that it was not such a coincidence as I had first thought that he should happen to be at Madame Rougemont’s when Lisette and I called there. Up to that time he had been a frequent visitor there and had looked in almost regularly to see if there was anyone who could amuse him for a while.
Naturally the families met often, which meant that he was constantly in the house. The wedding was to take place in three weeks’ time when all the excitement over that of the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette had died down.
In the meantime, as the families were both in Paris, and my father would no doubt take part in some of the ceremonies of the royal marriage, we saw a great deal of each other.
The Tourvilles gave a ball and once more I danced with Charles, and this time I was conscious of Sophie as she watched us. She insisted that Charles seemed to like me very much and when I protested that I thought he had a very poor opinion of me, she assured me that this was not so.
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘he is so much in love with you that he even likes your family.’
And that seemed to please her.
When I saw Lisette next I told her who Charles de Tourville was, and what a shock I had had at the ball.
‘Is it really so?’ she cried; and she started to laugh. But when I talked of him she did not seem very interested.
‘I only hope he doesn’t tell about us,’ I said.
‘How could he? He’d have to explain how he happened to be there.’
‘Lisette,’ I said, ‘when I came to tell you about it when the ball was over, you weren’t in your bed.’
She looked at me steadily and said: ‘Oh …you must have come when I was in one of the attics with the servants watching the guests depart. There is a good view up there.’
And I forgot about that until much later.
It was the day of the Dauphin’s wedding and my parents had gone to Versailles to attend the reception afterwards which was to be held in the Galerie des Glaces. I felt an uneasiness which I could not shake off. My thoughts were filled with Charles de Tourville and his coming marriage to Sophie. I fervently wished I could forget that man and not be so disturbed by his presence. It was not that I liked him … in fact I disliked all that he stood for; but on the other hand when he was not present, it seemed dull; and if he were to put in an unexpected appearance, I would feel an elation which try as I might I could neither suppress nor ignore.
There was to be a fireworks display in the evening and Charles with Armand were to conduct Sophie and me to the place so that we could have a good view. However during the afternoon the skies became overcast, the rain pelted down and the thunder and lightning were really alarming.
Sophie was terrified as she always had been of thunder, and Charles comforted her solicitously under my cynical eyes. He was clearly amused by my attitude.
‘No trip to Versailles,’ announced Armand. ‘There’ll be no fireworks tonight.’
‘The people will not be very pleased. A lot of them are trudging out to Versailles just to see them,’ said Charles.
‘They can’t blame the King for the storm,’ said Armand with a laugh. ‘Though I have no doubt some of them will.’
‘I dare say they will do the fireworks display on another occasion,’ added Charles. ‘Perhaps here in Paris, which would be sensible. It would save the trip to Versailles.’
‘What an end to the wedding-day!’ I murmured.
‘People are going to say it is a bad omen,’ added Charles.
‘Poor little bride,’ I couldn’t help saying, looking straight at Charles. ‘I hope she will be happy.’
‘They say she looks like a girl who can take care of herself,’ Charles replied, gazing into my eyes. ‘There are some like that. Perhaps that sort need more of a man than our little Dauphin has so far proved himself to be.’
‘Hush!’ said Armand in a mocking voice. ‘You speak treason.’
That evening the four of us played a card game while we listened to the rain spluttering on to the windows of the hôtel. The streets were quiet; it was very different from what we had expected it to be and rather an anticlimax to all the fuss there had been about the royal wedding.
The next day my parents returned to the hôtel. My mother was ecstatic about the reception at Versailles. Sophie and I made her tell us all about it. It had taken place in the chapel of the Palace and my parents had been very honoured to be present. This was because some long way back my father had a blood connection with the royal family.
‘Poor little Dauphin!’ said my mother. ‘He looked most disconsolate in spite of his gold-spangled net garments. Most unhappy and uncertain. She looked enchanting. She is a most attractive girl … so fair and dainty and she was beautiful in a white brocade gown with panniers, which made her look so graceful. We went through the Galerie des Glaces and the Grands Appartements to the Chapel, where the Swiss guards were assembled. Those dear children! They looked so young, they made me want to weep as they knelt before Monseigneur de la Roche-Aymon. I thought the Dauphin was going to drop the ring and the gold pieces he had to bestow on the bride.’
‘What about the fireworks display?’ I asked.
‘Oh, that is going to be later … in Paris. In a week or so, I imagine. There was so much disappointment about it. It has to take place or the people will feel they have been cheated. What do you think? The little Dauphine made a blot on the marriage contract as she signed her name. The King seemed quite amused.’
‘They will be saying that is an omen,’ said Armand. ‘What with the storm and the blot … they’ll really have something to work on. And wasn’t there an earthquake somewhere on the day Marie Antoinette was born?’