The Silver Chandelier.--The King Holds the Ladder.--The Young Dutchman.
One day the King was passing through some of the large rooms of the
palace, at a time of the morning when the courtiers had not yet made
their appearance, and when carpenters and workmen were about, each busy
in getting his work done.
The King noticed a workman of some sort standing tiptoe on a double
ladder, and reaching up to unhook a large chandelier from the ceiling.
The fellow seemed likely to break his neck.
"Be careful," cried the King; "don't you see that your ladder is a short
one and is on castors? I have just come in time to help you by holding
it."
"Monsieur," said the man, "a thousand pardons, but if you will do so, I
shall be much obliged. On account of this ambassador who is coming
today, all my companions have lost their heads and have left me alone."
Then he unhooked the large crystal and silver chandelier, stepped down
carefully, leaning on the King's shoulder, who graciously allowed him to
do so. After humbly thanking him, the fellow made off.
That night in the chateau every one was talking about the hardihood of
some thief who in sight of everybody had stolen a handsome chandelier;
the Lord High Provost had already been apprised of the matter. The King
began to smile as he said out loud before every one, "I must request the
Lord High Provost to be good enough to hush the matter up, as in cases of
theft accomplices are punished as well, and it was I who held the ladder
for the thief."
Then his Majesty told us of the occurrence, as already narrated, and
every one was convinced that the thief could not be a novice or an
apprentice at his craft. Inquiries were instantly made, since so bold an
attempt called for exemplary punishment. All the upholsterers of the
castle wished to give themselves up as prisoners; their honour was
compromised. It would be hard to describe their consternation, being in
truth honest folk.
When the Provost respectfully asked the King if he had had time to notice
the culprit's features, his Majesty replied that the workman in question
was a young fellow of about five-and-twenty, fair complexioned, with
chestnut hair, and pleasant features of delicate, almost feminine cast.
At this news, all the dark, plain men-servants were exultant; the
good-looking ones, however, were filled with fear.
Among the feutiers, whose sole duty it is to attend to the fires and
candles in the royal apartments, there was a nice-looking young Dutchman,
whom his companions pointed out to the Provost. They entered his room
while he was asleep, and found in his cupboard the following articles:
Two of the King's lace cravats, two shirts marked with a double L and the
crown, a pair of pale blue velvet shoes embroidered with silver, a
flowered waistcoat, a hat with white and scarlet plumes, other trifles,
and splendid portrait of the King, evidently part of some bracelet. As
regarded the chandelier, nothing was discovered.
When this young foreigner was taken to prison, he refused to speak for
twenty-four hours, and in all Versailles there was but one cry,--"They've
caught the thief!"
Next day matters appeared in a new light. The Provost informed his
Majesty that the young servant arrested was not a Dutchman, but a very
pretty Dutch woman.
At the time of the invasion, she was so unlucky as to see the King close
to her father's house, and conceived so violent a passion for him that
she at once forgot country, family, friends,--everything. Leaving the
Netherlands with the French army, she followed her conqueror back to his
capital, and by dint of perseverance managed to secure employment in the
royal palace. While there, her one delight was to see the King as often
as possible, and to listen to praise of his many noble deeds.
"The articles found in my possession," said she to the Provost, "are most
dear and precious to me; not for their worth, but because they have
touched the King's person. I did not steal them from his Majesty; I
could not do such a thing. I bought them of the valets de chambre, who
were by right entitled to such things, and who would have sold them
indiscriminately to any one else. The portrait was not sold to me, I
admit, but I got it from Madame la Marquise de Montespan, and in this
way: One day, in the parterres, madame dropped her bracelet. I had the
good fortune to pick it up, and I kept it for three or four days in my
room. Then bills were posted up in the park, stating that whoever
brought the bracelet to madame should receive a reward of ten louis. I
took back the ornament, for its pearls and diamonds did not tempt me, but
I kept the portrait instead of the ten louis offered."
When the King asked me if I recollected the occurrence, I assured him
that everything was perfectly true. Hereupon the King sent for the girl,
who was immediately brought to his chamber. Such was her modesty, and
confusion that she dared not raise her eyes from the ground. The King
spoke kindly to her, and gave her two thousand crowns to take her back to
her own home. The Provost was instructed to restore all these different
articles to her, and as regarded myself, I willingly let her have the
portrait, though it was worth a good deal more than the ten louis
mentioned.
When she got back to her own country and the news of her safe arrival was
confirmed, the King sent her twenty thousand livres as a dowry, which
enabled her to make a marriage suitable to her good-natured disposition
and blameless conduct.
She made a marked impression upon his Majesty, and he was often wont to
speak about the chandelier on account of her, always alluding to her in
kindly, terms. If ever he returns to Holland, I am sure he will want to
see her, either from motives of attachment or curiosity. Her name, if I
remember rightly, was Flora.