The Cat and the King by Louis Auchincloss Page B

good. Poor lady, nobody listens to her;
    â€œBut everyone’s against the marriage!” I exclaimed indignantly.
    â€œYes, but they don’t
do
anything about it. And then there’s this business about Madame Guyon. Did you know she’s been sent to the Bastille?”
    â€œMy God, no! Why?”
    â€œThe king’s confessor has persuaded him that she’s a Jansenist, and she’s shut up until a clerical commission can study the case. Of course, Madame de Maintenon dropped her like a hot potato as soon as she picked up the first whiff of her ill favor.”
    I whistled. “So
that
’s why poor Savonne found her doors shut. It seems a bit hard, considering that he only met the Guyon through her.”
    â€œNo, Madame de Maintenon is perfectly consistent. Anyone who met the Guyon
only
in her apartment is all right. But Savonne met her twice more—at the duchesse du Lude’s—
after
the wind had changed.”
    â€œI see. These are the distinctions on which our lives depend! But I think I had better somehow explain Savonne’s innocence to the king.” I paused, but Gabrielle said nothing. “Don’t you think the king should know
how
Savonne got into this?”
    â€œSuppose you speak to Monsieur.”
    â€œMonsieur?”
    â€œIf Savonne is really in trouble, it’s not over Madame Guyon. It’s over the marriage. What I think you should do is give Monsieur a hint of the price you’re all paying. He likes you. And he has to be basically on your side about the marriage. He can’t object to your wanting a proper match for his own son, even if the king forces him to consent to this one. So, if we lose, and Chartres has to marry Mademoiselle de Blois, he can make your peace with the king.”
    I had to admit that this was shrewd, even if it struck me as a bit ignoble to make personal plans for shelter in the event of the wreck of a noble scheme.
    â€œBut Monsieur’s so volatile,” I objected. “Everything depends on who’s last been with him. And where.”
    â€œWhere?”
    I placed a protective arm about her waist. “Ah, my innocent, we mustn’t peek too closely into the private life of our sovereign’s brother.”
    But my wife’s demure little smile did not in the least convey the innocence that I had assumed. “You mean what Chartres refers to as ‘Papa’s little weakness’?”
    â€œOh, you know.”
    â€œIs it not a loyal wife’s duty to know what goes on in court?”
    I sighed. “I suppose so. But I hate to have your pure little mind contaminated with such filth.”
    â€œMy ‘pure little mind’ can take in worse than that. Be sure when you go to Monsieur that the Chevalier is not with him.”
    I arched my eyebrows. “Do you think it’s safe for me to be alone with Monsieur?”
    Gabrielle’s smile showed a new sophistication, of which I could not quite approve. “Oh, I guess you can take care of yourself.”
    â€œEven against the fluttering hands of royalty? I can hardly knock down a son of France.”
    But she continued to smile as if we were consciously playing a scene. “A loyal subject must suffer many things,” she said demurely. “I’m sure there’s a dispensation under the circumstances.”
    Something tore in my heart, and the sky seemed as suddenly dark as if the clouds had been pulled shut by frantic hands.
    â€œYou mean that I should... should...!” I paused, gasping.
    â€œI meant nothing at all,” she said quickly.
    â€œBut you did!” I almost shouted. “You think I should let Monsieur bugger me!”
    My wife paled, and her eyes flashed as I had never seen them flash. “Sir!”
    What could I say? What could I do but apologize? For a few minutes I thought I must have offended her so deeply that there could never again be a question of true intimacy between us.