Goya's Glass by Monika Zgustová, Matthew Tree Page A

most common sort of praise. At the same time he tickled me in the most delicious fashion on the nape of my neck as he played with my necklace. My melancholy began to fade and I began to have the feeling that I was in heaven, full of music and of words and caresses.
    The king and queen were seated in the first row according to protocol, and Godoy should have been seated next to María Luisa, as prime minister and her prime lover. But he had stood up to move away from her and approach the wall behind me. After a while the queen turned—the salon glittered with the brilliance of her jewels, so much so it seemed as if the candles had gone out—she saw everything. She went red with anger while I put on a listless expression so that my dear María Luisa should have no doubt about what was happening. Godoy became alarmed and wanted to go back to his seat, but I made him burn up inside with a furtive look that said now or never. He hesitated. I rose a little as if preparing to leave and immediately he nodded: yes, I’m ready. While waiting for me he went red as a prawn and his fingers ran over my skin with greater strength. He caressed my naked shoulders under my hair. My mother-in-law, dressed as ever in a ubiquitous pearl gray with platinum around her neck and silver in her hair, turned toward me to whisper that after themusic we would dine with their majesties king and queen in a small group, but maybe I didn’t hear her. The music was reaching its culmination, the wave grew. The music gave me strength. I got up, making a signal to Don Manuel. As he followed me, he reddened and paled by turn. I left a message for my husband saying I felt indisposed and that Don Manuel had been called away unexpectedly and needed to leave most urgently. So the intimate dinner with their majesties did not take place in order to avoid a somewhat uncomfortable situation in which two of the main heroes would be missing, the tenor and the soprano, and what was more, each from a different duo. The king, who never understood anything, didn’t understand what was happening then either. I can imagine him perfectly, patting my husband on the back and saying how it was high time they played together, while Don José bit his lip—first from imagining the clumsy king in comparison to his refined fingers, which didn’t play so much as produce magic, and second, when he realized the reason why his wife and the queen’s lover were missing after the concert.
    Once in my chambers, the spell that I had been under a moment before disappeared altogether, but I attended Godoy’s amorous petition. The hope that I was hurting the queen with my action was a consolation to me. What was more, in some hidden corner of my soul I was feeding the illusion that Francisco, who had not come to any supper or musical evening at my little salon in the Moncloa, was a friend of Don Manuel. I had no reason to believe that Godoy was not discreet, and I hoped that this juicy piece of social news would reach Francisco’s ear and if it didn’t hurt him, that it would at least graze him. Grazehim, the only man who did not respond to my challenges. The untamable man.
    On the afternoon of the following day my chambermaid brought me an ochre-colored envelope which contained a letter.
    Ma bien aimée ,
    Je vous supplie de souper avec moi ce soir après mon concert, vers minuit. For our intimate little supper I have ordered one of your favorite dishes to be prepared. If I could, I would have gone personally to fish oysters to serve them on your dish, and with them deposit a beautiful pearl on your knees. Une perle qui ne pourrait en rien rivaliser avec vôtre beauté car vous êtes la plus ravissante des créatures. We will have dinner in my little salon without servants; only you, adored one, and me. I hope that you will honor me with the pleasure of spending the day today looking forward to this charming repas en tête à tête, notre petit souper intime que votre présence rendra