MADAME L'ETIQUETTE
The Oeil de Boeuf, the famous hall of the courtiers, had a magical
enchantment for Lecour. When he first rested his red-heeled shoes upon
its polished floor, having entered in the train of the Prince de Poix,
the courtiers were awaiting the passing of the King. There were many
faces he had not seen at Fontainebleau, and even those familiar showed
no sign that he was remembered here. The person who stood at his elbow
was an old officer, who had likewise entered with the Prince.
"I am come from the Province of Saintonge," said he, seeming glad to
unburden his confidences, "and I am at Court to obtain a great honour
for my son, who deserves it--my son, sir, the Chevalier de la Violette,
a very gallant youth. At Saintes, under de Grasse, he led the boarding
of two of our frigates, one after the other, which had been taken by the
enemy, and recovered them both. After the battle, he was taken up for
dead, wounded in eleven places. The deck was literally washed with his
blood. I am positive the thing has only to be mentioned to the King
himself for him to recognise my son's claims and appoint him
sub-lieutenant in the Bodyguard. I seek that for him because of the
great advantages and favours attached to it. The Prince de Poix must
first be induced to recommend him, for the prize is in his company; but
I have had the wit to secure in my favour the Princess's secretary, an
Abbé to whom I have given forty good louis, and who is to have a hundred
more in case of success. The secretary, sir, is very important. What a
shame how these low-born knaves rob us poor nobles, and make officers
and canons. We must, perforce, 'monsieur' them, and salute them a league
off as if they were their masters. The secretary even of the wife is
very important. The secretary is more important than the mistress
nowadays"; and the old officer laughed at his provincial witticism.
Lecour's eyes fell on a young guard, standing with sword drawn at the
door of the King's antechamber. "How secure is the place of these!" he
sighed to himself; "how insecure is mine!" A friendly voice sounded, and
he noticed Grancey stood before him. "Follow me before the King
arrives," said he. "My service is on the Queen to-day." Germain
followed. The air of mystery, characteristic of the courtiers, seemed
concentrated in their looks towards him as he passed. Their speculations
pieced together his entry with a powerful Prince and his familiarity
with a favoured officer of the Bodyguard; and his pleasing figure was
judged to give him the probability of advancement, to what height in the
royal favour no one could foretell. Those among whom he passed bowed low
to the mysterious fortune of the _débutant_.
The door through which they went led into the great Gallery of Mirrors,
a much more vast and beautiful hall than the Oeil de Boeuf. It was the
most attractive, in fact, in the Palace, for its range of long windows
commanded, from the centre of the eminence, the whole view of the
terrace and _parterres_, which was reflected upon the opposite side by
mirrors lining the walls. Every space, every door-panel here, even the
locks, was each an elaborate work of art. The ceiling was covered with
the great deeds of Louis Quatorze from the brush of le Brun. Antique
statues and caskets of massive silver, mosaic tables of precious stones,
and priceless cabinets, encrusted with the brass and tin-work executed
by the celebrated Buhl, furnished the Gallery.
Quitting Lecour, de Grancey stepped to the centre, and gave the word--
"Gentlemen of the Bodyguard, to your posts of honour!" and thus taking
command of the detachment, who were gathered in a corner of the hall, he
entered on his duty of disposing and inspecting them. No sooner was this
completed than a rustling in the Oeil de Boeuf informed them that the
King was passing. Shortly afterwards a noise like thunder was heard, and
the throng of courtiers poured in from the Oeil de Boeuf, and filled the
great Gallery of Mirrors. They had scarcely arranged themselves when
Germain heard a cry of "The Queen!" and beheld the radiant Marie
Antoinette advancing. The beautiful mistress of France passed along in
state with her suite, bestowing on one and another the attention she
considered due, to some a smile, to two or three a curtsey, to many
merely a glance. Noticing the humble worship in Germain's eyes, his face
and the exploit at Fontainebleau came back to her. She stopped,
therefore, as was sometimes her wont, and said graciously, "Monsieur, we
do not forget brave men," passing onward again. Instantly the Court
noticed the event, and exalted him in its esteem accordingly. But before
he could enjoy it, the entire scene was driven temporarily from his
thoughts and became a-whirl about another figure of which in the passing
train he became suddenly aware. It was the cold, impassive, scrutinising
face of an aged dame of such overweening pride and keenness that he
seemed to feel himself pierced through by her gaze. He had heard of the
severity of the Maréchale de Noailles--"Madame l'Etiquette"--Cyrène's
patroness, and knew intuitively that this was she. The danger of his
situation became instantaneously real. The train, accustomed to
confusion, continued their advance. Only then did he notice that in
charge of this old dragon walked Cyrène, her look fixed brightly upon
his face.