FATHER e eDOUARD DE G GEX ESCORTED Eliza to the library as fast as Eliza to the library as fast as he he could walk, which meant that he kept edging ahead. The most direct route took them through the grand ballroom of the Hotel Arcachon. Here, though, he faltered, and fell behind. Eliza wheeled about. De Gex was gazing up at the ceiling. This was understandable, for the de Lavardacs had hired Le Brun himself to paint it, and he had only recently finished. It was a colossal tableau featuring Apollo (always a stand-in for Louis XIV) gathering the Virtues about him in the bright center while exiling the Vices to the gloomy corners. The Virtues were not sufficiently numerous to fill the s.p.a.ce, and so the Muses were there, too, singing songs, composing poetry, &c. about how great the Virtues were. Along the edges of the piece, diverse earthly humans (courtiers on one side, peasants on the next, then soldiers, then churchmen) listened adoringly to, or gazed rapturously at, the Virtue-promoting works of the Muses whilst generally turning their backs to, or aiming scornful glares at, all of those Vices crowded into the corners. Just to make it sporting, though, you might see, if you looked carefully enough, a Soldier succ.u.mbing to Cowardice, a Priest to Gluttony, a Courtier to l.u.s.t, or a Peasant to Sloth. could walk, which meant that he kept edging ahead. The most direct route took them through the grand ballroom of the Hotel Arcachon. Here, though, he faltered, and fell behind. Eliza wheeled about. De Gex was gazing up at the ceiling. This was understandable, for the de Lavardacs had hired Le Brun himself to paint it, and he had only recently finished. It was a colossal tableau featuring Apollo (always a stand-in for Louis XIV) gathering the Virtues about him in the bright center while exiling the Vices to the gloomy corners. The Virtues were not sufficiently numerous to fill the s.p.a.ce, and so the Muses were there, too, singing songs, composing poetry, &c. about how great the Virtues were. Along the edges of the piece, diverse earthly humans (courtiers on one side, peasants on the next, then soldiers, then churchmen) listened adoringly to, or gazed rapturously at, the Virtue-promoting works of the Muses whilst generally turning their backs to, or aiming scornful glares at, all of those Vices crowded into the corners. Just to make it sporting, though, you might see, if you looked carefully enough, a Soldier succ.u.mbing to Cowardice, a Priest to Gluttony, a Courtier to l.u.s.t, or a Peasant to Sloth.

So everyone everyone who came in here looked at the ceiling; but the expression on the face of de Gex was most peculiar. Rather than being dazzled by the splendour of the work, he looked as if he were expecting the ceiling to fall in on them. who came in here looked at the ceiling; but the expression on the face of de Gex was most peculiar. Rather than being dazzled by the splendour of the work, he looked as if he were expecting the ceiling to fall in on them.

He finally directed his dark eyes at Eliza. "Do you know what happened here, mademoiselle?"

"A fabulously expensive remodeling campaign that took forever and is only just finished."

"But do you know why?"

"Le Brun is always engaged at Versailles, except when le Roi le Roi leaves off building it so that he can go fight a war. And so only since war broke out has any progress been made here." leaves off building it so that he can go fight a war. And so only since war broke out has any progress been made here."

"No. I meant, do you know why they remodelled?"

"From the looks of it I should say it was de Maintenon."

"De Maintenon?!" De Gex's reaction told Eliza that her answer had been emphatically wrong. De Gex's reaction told Eliza that her answer had been emphatically wrong.

"Yes," she said, "she came along in 1685, did she not? Which is when this remodel got under way...and the subject matter of the painting is so markedly Maintenon-esque."

"Correlation is not causation," de Gex said. "They had had to remodel, because of a disastrous Incident that took place in that year." to remodel, because of a disastrous Incident that took place in that year."

And then De Gex seemed to remember that they were in a hurry, and once again began striding toward the library. Eliza stomped along beside, and a little behind him.

"You do do know what happened here-?" he continued, and glanced back at her. know what happened here-?" he continued, and glanced back at her.

"Something grievously embarra.s.sing- grievously embarra.s.sing-so embarra.s.sing that no one will tell me what it was." embarra.s.sing that no one will tell me what it was."

"Ah. To the library, then." They departed the ballroom and entered a gallery.

"What was that you said earlier, about being asked to perform a marriage on short notice?"

"I received a note to that effect. I suspect it was from your beau. Never mind; obviously he was deluding himself."

"It is a bit sad," said Eliza, remembering the chairs carefully arranged in the little chapel, never to be sat on, and the precious flowers, never to be seen or smelled before they were hauled out to a midden. "Perhaps he had in mind a sort of elopement-but being so polite, wished to arrange it so that it would enjoy the sanctions of Family and Church."

"That is between you and him," said de Gex a bit coldly, and hauled upon the library door for Eliza. "If you please, mademoiselle."

"I PHANT'SIED YOU MIGHT FIND PHANT'SIED YOU MIGHT FIND this interesting in more than one way," said Bonaventure Rossignol. He sat with his back to the arched window of the library, which, though dark, afforded a view over the torch-lit courtyard of the Hotel Arcachon. Eliza was shocked to observe occasional snowflakes spiraling down-so intemperate and remorseless was this winter, they might as well be living in Stockholm. this interesting in more than one way," said Bonaventure Rossignol. He sat with his back to the arched window of the library, which, though dark, afforded a view over the torch-lit courtyard of the Hotel Arcachon. Eliza was shocked to observe occasional snowflakes spiraling down-so intemperate and remorseless was this winter, they might as well be living in Stockholm.

Before Rossignol was a broad table on which he had spread out a panoply of letters, books, and notes. Many bore the Armenian script.

"I mentioned to you before that the Cabinet Noir Cabinet Noir had intercepted a remarkable letter, posted during the first week of August from Sanlucar de Barrameda, and addressed to the family Esphahnian, who were said to be dwelling in the Bastille." had intercepted a remarkable letter, posted during the first week of August from Sanlucar de Barrameda, and addressed to the family Esphahnian, who were said to be dwelling in the Bastille."

"You had not mentioned the family name to me," said Eliza, "but it scarcely matters, and it is almost certainly an a.s.sumed name anyway-"

"Why do you say that?" said de Gex.

"Esphahnian simply means 'of Esphahan,' which is a city where a vast number of Armenians dwell," Eliza explained. "It is as if you went to live among the Turks and they called you 'edouard the Frank.' "

Rossignol nodded. "I agree it is probably not the true name of this family, but it is the name we shall use, lacking any other. At any rate, I inquired after them, and learned that some Armenians had indeed been put in the Bastille in 1685 and kept there for a year or so: a mother and a large brood of sons. One of them died there. The matriarch was released soonest, then the brothers. Some went to debtors' prisons.

"It took me some time to track them all down, for more have died in the meantime, and it was difficult to establish who is the eldest of the brothers. I found him-Artan Esphahnian-in a wretched entresol entresol not far from here, and caused the letter from Sanlucar to be delivered to him. not far from here, and caused the letter from Sanlucar to be delivered to him.

"A few days later, Artan mailed a letter addressed to one Vrej Esphahnian in Cairo in Cairo. I had an exact copy of it made, then sent it on its way. At the time, I held no particular opinion as to who this Vrej fellow might be-like you, mademoiselle, I suspected that the name Esphahnian was a meaningless ruse, or perhaps even a vector of hidden information, which, if true, might mean that Vrej was not even related to Artan.

"Nothing further happened until yesterday, when a letter came in addressed to Artan, posted from Rosetta, at the mouth of the Nile-and written in the same hand as the one from Sanlucar de Barrameda. written in the same hand as the one from Sanlucar de Barrameda. Now this was remarkable, for I had translated the Sanlucar letter into French, and it had said Now this was remarkable, for I had translated the Sanlucar letter into French, and it had said nothing nothing about Egypt. It was full of family chitchat. The fellow who wrote it-who I now believe to be Vrej Esphahnian-had been out of contact with Artan for a long time. He had said nothing whatever about what he was doing in Sanlucar or whither he might be going next. And yet Artan, upon receiving this doc.u.ment, had known, somehow, that he must post his reply to Vrej about Egypt. It was full of family chitchat. The fellow who wrote it-who I now believe to be Vrej Esphahnian-had been out of contact with Artan for a long time. He had said nothing whatever about what he was doing in Sanlucar or whither he might be going next. And yet Artan, upon receiving this doc.u.ment, had known, somehow, that he must post his reply to Vrej in Cairo in Cairo. Not long afterwards, this Vrej had appeared at Rosetta-which is en route en route to Cairo-long enough to despatch yet another letter filled with ba.n.a.l chitchat." to Cairo-long enough to despatch yet another letter filled with ba.n.a.l chitchat."

"And so it is obvious to you that encrypted messages are contained in these letters," Eliza continued; for she had spent enough time listening to the discourse of Natural Philosophers to recognize when one of them was developing a hypothesis. "This I understand well enough, and I compliment you on your prowess. But why do you deem it so important to tell me me about it?" about it?"

Rossignol was not willing to attempt an answer, and looked at de Gex. From which Eliza collected that it must be a delicate matter; for de Gex, as de Maintenon's favorite churchman, was allowed to speak bluntly in a way that was unusual in a place where insults were commonly answered with rapier-thrusts. "We who love and admire the family de Lavardac," he said, "are terribly concerned that Monsieur le duc d'Arcachon, acting out of the most n.o.ble motives, and exhibiting marvelous ingenuity and strength of will, has made a mistake. We would a.s.sist him in mending his error before it leads to embarra.s.sment. It were best to mend it this evening, before the ramifications spread any further. To bring it before Madame la d.u.c.h.esse d'Arcachon, or etienne, might not be as productive as to bring it before you you, mademoiselle."

"Very well. Does the mistake have something to do with Alchemy?"

The briefest of pauses. Then: "Indeed, mademoiselle. Monsieur le duc partic.i.p.ated in an act of piracy, which, as you know, is a usual thing in war, and wholly honourable. However, I am sorry to report that he was misinformed by persons who were ignorant, or perhaps malicious. Monsieur le duc supposed supposed that the prize was silver pigs. In fact it was gold. And not just any gold, but gold imbued with miraculous-even divine-qualities." that the prize was silver pigs. In fact it was gold. And not just any gold, but gold imbued with miraculous-even divine-qualities."

"I see," said Eliza. "And needless to say, the Esoteric Brotherhood takes a proprietary interest in it?"

"I should prefer to say custodial, custodial, not not proprietary. proprietary. This material is not for just anyone to possess. In the wrong hands it could do the Devil's work." This material is not for just anyone to possess. In the wrong hands it could do the Devil's work."

"Hmm. Would Lothar von Hacklheber's be the wrong hands?"

"No, mademoiselle. Lothar is a difficult man, but one knows where he lives, and one can reason with him. A boat-load of Vagabonds at large in the Mediterranean, bound for Egypt-that is the wrong hands." is the wrong hands."

"Well, you may set your mind at ease, Father edouard. The gold you seek was to have come ash.o.r.e along with Monsieur le duc. He planned to drop it off in Lyon. It should now locked in the strong-box of a certain banker there, who values it only as gold. I shall be pleased to supply you with his name. He has no awareness of, or interest in, its supernatural characteristics. Presumably he will be pleased to exchange it for an equal or larger weight of mundane mundane gold." gold."

"We should be in your debt, mademoiselle."

"You may consider the debt discharged, if you tell me one thing."

"Name it, mademoiselle."

"The Bastille is a prison for enemies of the Realm. Why were the Esphahnians thrown into it?"

"Because they were thought to be connected to what happened here in 1685."

"And-since I will be the last person in France to know-what happened here in 1685!?"

"You may have heard, on the lips of servants or other vulgar persons, tales concerning a man called L'Emmerdeur L'Emmerdeur. By your leave, mademoiselle! For even his epithet is almost too vulgar to speak aloud."

"I have heard of him," said Eliza, though in her ears, the sound of her own voice was nearly drowned out by the stomp, stomp, stomp stomp, stomp, stomp of her heart. "I did hear a story once that he showed up uninvited at some grand soiree in Paris and made a b.l.o.o.d.y mess of it-" of her heart. "I did hear a story once that he showed up uninvited at some grand soiree in Paris and made a b.l.o.o.d.y mess of it-"

"That was here."

"In this house!?"

"In this house. He cut etienne's hand off, and completely destroyed the ballroom."

"How can one Vagabond, vastly outnumbered by armed n.o.blemen, single-handedly destroy a Duke's ballroom?"

"Never mind. But to make matters worse, all of these things happened in the presence of the King. Most embarra.s.sing."

"I can imagine!"

"The King of the Vagabonds, as he was styled, made his escape. But the Lieutenant of Police was able to determine that he had been dwelling in a certain apartment not far from here-and the Esphahnians were living directly below him. He had befriended them, and drawn them somehow into his schemes. But since he he was long gone, retribution fell instead on the Esphahnians. Off they were taken to the Bastille. Their business was destroyed, their health suffered grievously. Now those who survived dwell as paupers in Paris." was long gone, retribution fell instead on the Esphahnians. Off they were taken to the Bastille. Their business was destroyed, their health suffered grievously. Now those who survived dwell as paupers in Paris."

Through the windows came the clatter and rasp of many horseshoes and iron wheel-rims on cobblestones. All turned to see the white carriage of the duc d'Arcachon-wrought to look like a giant sea-sh.e.l.l borne on the foam of an incoming tide-being drawn, by a team of six mismatched and exhausted horses, into the courtyard. It pa.s.sed below them, out of their view, and pulled up before the entrance of the ballroom.

But the noise did not let up, but doubled and redoubled, as into the open gates of the Court rode a vanguard of Swiss mercenaries, and a squadron of n.o.ble officers, and finally the gilded carriage of Louis XIV, lighting up the court as the Chariot of Apollo.

eTIENNE, WHEREVER HE WAS (presumably, at the door of the ballroom), could finally relax, for much that must have been troubling him had been resolved in these few moments. His father had come home. No more would embarra.s.sing questions be asked about where the Grand Admiral of France was during this time of need. Almost as important, this party now had a guest of honor; and so the many guests who had come would not go home disappointed. Most important of all, the King had arrived, and had arrived (presumably, at the door of the ballroom), could finally relax, for much that must have been troubling him had been resolved in these few moments. His father had come home. No more would embarra.s.sing questions be asked about where the Grand Admiral of France was during this time of need. Almost as important, this party now had a guest of honor; and so the many guests who had come would not go home disappointed. Most important of all, the King had arrived, and had arrived last last.

Eliza, by contrast, had so many things to fret about that she almost could not keep track of them. She left de Gex and Rossignol far behind as she threaded her way among servants and courtiers toward the ballroom.

She hated herself for having a phial of poison in her waistband. Stupid! Stupid! She could not even use it now, without drawing fire from d'Avaux! So it was worse than worthless. It had never occurred to her that she would have to carry the d.a.m.ned thing on her person all the time. It could not be left in a drawer for fear that someone would happen upon it, by chance or because snooping. The phial had only been in her waistband for a few hours, but she'd gladly have traded it for a back-load of firewood. It seemed to burn her stomach, and she had developed a nervous habit of patting it every few seconds. And for this useless burthen, she had put herself, in some unspecified way, into the power of the d.u.c.h.ess of Oyonnax.

But in its power to cause trouble for Eliza, this matter of the poison might be as nothing compared to what she had heard concerning the exploits of Jack Shaftoe in this house-nay, this very room room (for she had entered the ballroom now) five years ago. (for she had entered the ballroom now) five years ago.

When the carriages of le duc le duc and and le Roi le Roi had entered the courtyard moments ago, Eliza had darted out of the library before de Gex or Rossignol could offer her his arm. She had done this because she required a few moments by herself to think-to recall all that had happened since she had met Jack below Vienna in 1683, and to ask herself who might know that she had once been a.s.sociated with had entered the courtyard moments ago, Eliza had darted out of the library before de Gex or Rossignol could offer her his arm. She had done this because she required a few moments by herself to think-to recall all that had happened since she had met Jack below Vienna in 1683, and to ask herself who might know that she had once been a.s.sociated with L'Emmerdeur L'Emmerdeur?

Leibniz knew, but he was discreet. The same could be said of Enoch Root. Around Leipzig, Jack and Eliza had been seen together by several people, none of whom was likely to be rated as credible by the French n.o.bility. The most high and mighty person who had seen them together-and, as she recalled this, Eliza felt the heat rising into her face like steam from a cauldron when the lid is lifted off-was Lothar von Hacklheber, who had gazed down on her from the balcony of the House of the Golden Mercury in Leipzig. Jack had been right next to her, posing as a manservant, a porter. Unlikely that even Lothar would connect such a figure with L'Emmerdeur L'Emmerdeur.

After that, they had traveled to Amsterdam. A few Dutch people had seen them together. But again, there was no reason for these people to suppose that the ruffian sometimes seen in Eliza's company was the legendary Vagabond King. Before long, Jack had gone down to Paris. Only then had he truly become famous to these people. He had ridden a horse into this room and wrecked the duc d'Arcachon's party, fled Paris, and eventually found his way back to Amsterdam-where he had tracked Eliza down in her favorite coffeehouse. The had spent all of an hour together-an hour that had culminated in an unpleasant scene, whose details Eliza did not care to recall to mind, beneath the Herring-Packers' Tower, just as Jack had set sail on the slave-trading voyage from which he could never return. By now, of course, he'd been dead any number of years. But that that was not the question. The question was: Had anyone seen Jack and Eliza together during that hour in Amsterdam? was not the question. The question was: Had anyone seen Jack and Eliza together during that hour in Amsterdam?

The answer was of course they had, of course they had, for as she'd later found out, she'd been tailed, the whole time, by two spies in the employ of d'Avaux. D'Avaux! Who even at this moment was glaring at her from across the ballroom, as if reading minds were as easy for him as reading codes was to Rossignol. D'Avaux's two spies had later been killed by the hand of William of Orange himself. But d'Avaux was alive, for as she'd later found out, she'd been tailed, the whole time, by two spies in the employ of d'Avaux. D'Avaux! Who even at this moment was glaring at her from across the ballroom, as if reading minds were as easy for him as reading codes was to Rossignol. D'Avaux's two spies had later been killed by the hand of William of Orange himself. But d'Avaux was alive, and he knew and he knew.

All this time the Duke's carriage had been sitting in the courtyard, like an egg in a stone sarcophagus. Its door was open, and one of the footmen had thrust his head and upper body into the dark interior, and lit a few candles. His arm shook from time to time, as if he were trying again and again to get a tired pa.s.senger to wake up. The delay was perfectly convenient for those inside-close to a hundred of the t.i.tled n.o.bility of France-as it afforded them the opportunity to arrange themselves in a long receiving-line that coiled and undulated around the ballroom. Outside the double doors, servants had rolled out a carpet so that the Duke, and later King, could tread on red wool instead of gray snow. An honor guard had formed up to either side of that road of scarlet: members of etienne's cavalry regiment to one side, and, facing them, a detachment of marines. etienne stood just inside the doors, waiting, with his mother on his arm.

Finally something was happening. The cavalry and the marines drew sabers and cutla.s.ses respectively, and raised them up to form an arch of steel above the red carpet. etienne nodded to a pair of servants, who drew open the ballroom's immense doors, letting in a blast of snowy air; etienne screwed up his face and stepped back half a pace; his mother the d.u.c.h.ess bowed her head and reached up with her free hand to prevent her lace headdress from being sheared off. Outside, the mud-spattered b.u.t.tocks of the footman could be seen emerging from the door of the white carriage, straining and jolting, as he seemed to be helping someone out who required much help.

Eliza's view of these proceedings got better and better, for she was being impelled toward the head of the receiving-line by a kind of social peristalsis. Even Dukes and d.u.c.h.esses, in this circ.u.mstance, gave precedence to Eliza, who had come to be seen as an honorary de Lavardac. No one would admit her to the line, but all insisted that she move ahead. And so she kept advancing towards the open doors, and got a very clear view of what came out of that carriage.

It was not a Duke. The word "wretch" came to mind, for this man could barely stand up, and if he owned a periwig, he'd lost it, or forgotten it in the coach. His thinning hair was short and dark, and sh.e.l.lacked with sweat and grease, and his face beneath it was so pale it looked almost green. He could not stand or walk without a.s.sistance, and yet he would on no account let go of some great burdensome item of luggage: a sort of strong-box. It had a handle on either end. One of the footmen supported the wretch on his right side. The wretch, then, kept his left hand clenched around one of the strong-box's handles. The other footman had grabbed the box's opposite handle just in time to keep it from falling out of the carriage door. And so they formed up three abreast: footman, wretch, footman, and began an ungainly progress along the red carpet.

Eliza had now come close enough to the doors that she could hear etienne saying to his mother, "Is that Pierre de Jonzac?" Instantly she saw that the wretch was none other. For the filthy, torn, and stained clothes that he was wearing had once been a naval officer's uniform. And if in her mind's eye she cleaned the wretch up, mended his clothes, and endowed him with thirty pounds more weight, a few pints of blood, and a decent periwig, the result was very like Monsieur de Jonzac.

Seeing this, Eliza developed in her mind a theory of what was going on here, which was wrong; but it was not too unlike everyone else's theories, which would govern their actions until they knew more. The theory was that the duc d'Arcachon was still inside the white carriage, getting freshened up for the party, and that he had sent his aide de Jonzac out ahead of him bearing a treasure-chest full of booty, justly and valiantly won during some dire and exhausting combat in the Mediterranean, which was about to be presented to the King of France. It even occurred to Eliza that the Duke, finding himself unexpectedly in possession of a small ma.s.s of enchanted gold, rather than a large amount of silver pigs, had galloped straight through Lyon without stopping, and brought it here directly. Risky-but fantastically dashing, and almost enough to make her admire the man. She turned round to catch the eye of Father edouard de Gex, who was not far away; and he had come to a similar phant'sy, and his gaze was already fixed on that strong-box. Someone next to him was, was, however, looking back at Eliza; she glanced up to find herself spiked on the unreadable glare of Louis Anglesey, Earl of Upnor. however, looking back at Eliza; she glanced up to find herself spiked on the unreadable glare of Louis Anglesey, Earl of Upnor.

De Jonzac, the footmen, and the chest had covered two-thirds of the distance to the door. As they drew closer to the light, they looked more and more pitiable. The footmen had been standing on the back of the carriage for a week and their faces and livery were coated with road-grime. Beneath the gray dirt, their their flesh was ruddy from cold; but de Jonzac was gray through and through. His lips had disappeared, being of the same hue as the surrounding flesh, and they moved unceasingly, as if he were trying to say something. But if any sound came forth, Eliza could not hear it from this distance. etienne greeted de Jonzac, but got no recognition or answer. He and the d.u.c.h.ess moved out of the way so that this unwieldy parade could fit through the door. No doubt remained in Eliza's mind now that something was terribly awry; but most of the others in the room were still working on the wrong theory. This included even poor etienne, who sensed that something was desperately the matter, but was nailed to his post by etiquette. He turned towards the white carriage to greet his father, who should emerge next; but the door, hanging open, revealed that the vehicle was empty. A stable-hand slammed it shut and pounded on it twice, and the driver cracked his little whip, compelling the half-dead horses to make one last, brief journey to the stable-yard. flesh was ruddy from cold; but de Jonzac was gray through and through. His lips had disappeared, being of the same hue as the surrounding flesh, and they moved unceasingly, as if he were trying to say something. But if any sound came forth, Eliza could not hear it from this distance. etienne greeted de Jonzac, but got no recognition or answer. He and the d.u.c.h.ess moved out of the way so that this unwieldy parade could fit through the door. No doubt remained in Eliza's mind now that something was terribly awry; but most of the others in the room were still working on the wrong theory. This included even poor etienne, who sensed that something was desperately the matter, but was nailed to his post by etiquette. He turned towards the white carriage to greet his father, who should emerge next; but the door, hanging open, revealed that the vehicle was empty. A stable-hand slammed it shut and pounded on it twice, and the driver cracked his little whip, compelling the half-dead horses to make one last, brief journey to the stable-yard.

"Father edouard!" Eliza said, raising her voice to be heard above the murmur of astonishment running through the guests. "Please tend to Monsieur de Jonzac; he is grievously wounded." Eliza's nose had confirmed this, for de Jonzac and the footmen had shuffled past her by now, leaving in their wake a scent of rotting flesh. De Jonzac had gangrene. The footmen, half deranged from exhaustion, only wanted some place to lay de Jonzac out on the floor; instead they had staggered into the midst of a formal Court ball. They were dumbfounded, lost.

De Gex had got a whiff of it, too. He stepped out briskly and got in front of the footmen. "Let him down. It is all right. Gently down-" (To the majordomo:) "Monsieur! Bring blankets, and a couch, or something that can be used as a litter. Have someone else summon a surgeon." (To de Jonzac, now lying on the polished floor, his head on the palm of de Gex's hand:) "What is that you say? I cannot hear you, Monsieur-pray save your strength, it can wait."

De Gex seemed to have matters so well in hand that Eliza decided to go and inform etienne (whose view of de Gex and de Jonzac had been blocked by a moving wall of inquisitive courtiers) as to what was going on. She found him still paralyzed by an unsolvable conundrum of etiquette; for the moment the Duke's white carriage had moved out of the way, the King's golden one had rattled forward to take its place, and even now the door was being opened. For none of the members of the King's entourage had the slightest idea, yet, that things had gone all wrong. And it was too late to tell them now, for Louis XIV was standing at the head of the carpet, and the Marquise de Maintenon was on his arm.

Eliza spun around and said "The King!," which was the one word that could have dispersed the crowd around de Jonzac and de Gex. The receiving line re-formed, though it made a wide detour around the stricken man on the floor, and the two who were occupied near him: de Gex, who was kneeling on the floor and bending close to hear de Jonzac, and the Earl of Upnor, who kept undoing latches on the strong-box, only to find that there was always another.

All of this became obvious to the King in an instant as the crowd melted away from his line of sight like frost in a sun-beam. He was the only person in the Hotel Arcachon who had the freedom to behave normally. For in the presence of the King, no one other than the King could be acknowledged. Hence, for example, the unnatural posture of etienne d'Arcachon, who stood fixedly with his back to the scene within, as if nothing at all was happening. The King, though, had eyes only for de Jonzac. He got half a pace ahead of de Maintenon, then turned to her and said a few private words, taking his leave of her with utmost courtesy. Then he strode forward, turning to etienne and the d.u.c.h.ess as he went by, and exchanging a word with each: monsieur; madame. monsieur; madame. Into the ballroom he came, sweeping his cape from his shoulders, and in the same motion he whirled it down to cover the shivering body of Pierre de Jonzac. The King then took a step back and posed there, body erect, one foot slightly ahead of the other, toe pointed and slightly turned out, head inclined toward his injured subject, and inquired of de Gex: "What does he say?" Into the ballroom he came, sweeping his cape from his shoulders, and in the same motion he whirled it down to cover the shivering body of Pierre de Jonzac. The King then took a step back and posed there, body erect, one foot slightly ahead of the other, toe pointed and slightly turned out, head inclined toward his injured subject, and inquired of de Gex: "What does he say?"

"If you please, your majesty," said de Gex. For some time he had been holding up a hand for quiet. But the arrival of the King had silenced the room as nothing else could have. De Gex now bent very close, so that de Jonzac's lips were practically nuzzling his ear, and repeated what he heard: "The deed...you are about to witness...was done for the love of a woman...whose name...I will not say...for she knows who she is...and it was done by...'Half-c.o.c.ked' Jack Shaftoe, L'Emmerdeur, L'Emmerdeur, the King of the Vagabonds, Ali Zaybak: Quicksilver!" the King of the Vagabonds, Ali Zaybak: Quicksilver!"

"What on earth is he talking about?" asked the King. "What deed?" And it was well that he said something, something, as everyone else was struck dumb, so mortified were they by the mention of the forbidden name in this, of all places! as everyone else was struck dumb, so mortified were they by the mention of the forbidden name in this, of all places!

Upnor had continued to worry at the hasps of the strong-box the whole time-somewhat improperly, but then, he was merely an Englishman. Finally he got it open. He flipped the lid back with a thud and a clatter, practically thrusting his face into the cavity in his eagerness to get at the treasure within. But in the next moment he recoiled as if a cobra had leapt out of the box. He actually let out a long, incoherent yell. A few people nearby screamed, and looked away.

"Ladies, and persons of a sensitive disposition, will avert their eyes," said the King, who retreated a few steps.

etienne de Lavardac, Madame la d.u.c.h.esse d'Arcachon, Madame la d.u.c.h.esse d'Oyonnax, Monsieur le comte d'Avaux, and a few others drew closer to see what it was. De Gex, who was closest, leaned over the top of the chest and reached into it with his right hand, making the sign of the cross, and muttering a sentence in Latin. Then he rose to his feet and hauled out a severed human head.

"Louis-Francois de Lavardac, duc d'Arcachon, has come home," he announced. "May he rest in peace."

NOW, AT THIS MOMENT Eliza was far from clear-headed; yet she was the most clear-headed person in the room, with the possible exception of the late duke. Though she was still in a lot of trouble-much more trouble than three minutes ago, in fact-she knew two things absolutely. One was that the duc d'Arcachon was dead. Her mission in life had, therefore, been accomplished. The other was that Jack Shaftoe was alive, had redeemed himself, and loved her. Best of all, he loved her from a tremendous distance, which made being loved by him ever so much less inconvenient. And so even as people were still gasping and screaming and fainting all around her, Eliza was moving toward the d.u.c.h.esse d'Oyonnax, who, aside from Eliza, was the coolest person in the room. She looked almost amused. Eliza fished the little green phial out of her waistband. She approached Oyonnax from the side, reached out with her left hand, grasped that of Oyonnax, and drew it towards her, twisting it palm up. With her right hand Eliza pressed the phial down on Oyonnax's palm. The d.u.c.h.ess's fingers curled about it involuntarily, before she knew what it was, and Eliza got clear. Eliza was far from clear-headed; yet she was the most clear-headed person in the room, with the possible exception of the late duke. Though she was still in a lot of trouble-much more trouble than three minutes ago, in fact-she knew two things absolutely. One was that the duc d'Arcachon was dead. Her mission in life had, therefore, been accomplished. The other was that Jack Shaftoe was alive, had redeemed himself, and loved her. Best of all, he loved her from a tremendous distance, which made being loved by him ever so much less inconvenient. And so even as people were still gasping and screaming and fainting all around her, Eliza was moving toward the d.u.c.h.esse d'Oyonnax, who, aside from Eliza, was the coolest person in the room. She looked almost amused. Eliza fished the little green phial out of her waistband. She approached Oyonnax from the side, reached out with her left hand, grasped that of Oyonnax, and drew it towards her, twisting it palm up. With her right hand Eliza pressed the phial down on Oyonnax's palm. The d.u.c.h.ess's fingers curled about it involuntarily, before she knew what it was, and Eliza got clear.

Her attention-and that of almost everyone else in the room-turned to d'Avaux, who had approached the King, and received permission to speak. It was a wonder he had sought permission, for he was in such a rage that he was almost slavering. He kept looking back at Eliza, which gave Eliza the idea that it might be best for her to draw closer and listen in.

"Your majesty!" cried d'Avaux. "By your majesty's leave, I say that while the perpetrator perpetrator of this atrocious crime may be far away, the of this atrocious crime may be far away, the first cause and inspiration first cause and inspiration of it is close by, yea, within the reach of your majesty's sword almost, so that your majesty may have satisfaction presently-for she, the woman in whose name of it is close by, yea, within the reach of your majesty's sword almost, so that your majesty may have satisfaction presently-for she, the woman in whose name L'Emmerdeur L'Emmerdeur committed this murder, is none other than-" and he raised his hand before his face, index finger extended, like a pistol-duellist in the moment before he levels the weapon at his foe. His gaze was rapt on Eliza. The fatal finger began to descend toward her heart. She reached up and caught that digit, however, while it was still directed toward the magnificent Le Brun ceiling, and bent it back sharply enough to make d'Avaux inhale sharply-which meant he could not finish his sentence. committed this murder, is none other than-" and he raised his hand before his face, index finger extended, like a pistol-duellist in the moment before he levels the weapon at his foe. His gaze was rapt on Eliza. The fatal finger began to descend toward her heart. She reached up and caught that digit, however, while it was still directed toward the magnificent Le Brun ceiling, and bent it back sharply enough to make d'Avaux inhale sharply-which meant he could not finish his sentence. "Merci beaucoup, monsieur," "Merci beaucoup, monsieur," she whispered, and executed a full three-hundred-sixty-degree pirouette that brought her face to face with the King while relegating d'Avaux to the background. Her hand was behind the small of her back now, still gripping d'Avaux's finger. She had carried it off-or so she hoped-in such a manner that an observer, still in shock over the appearance of the severed head of the birthday boy, might think that d'Avaux had courteously offered her his hand, and she had gratefully accepted it. she whispered, and executed a full three-hundred-sixty-degree pirouette that brought her face to face with the King while relegating d'Avaux to the background. Her hand was behind the small of her back now, still gripping d'Avaux's finger. She had carried it off-or so she hoped-in such a manner that an observer, still in shock over the appearance of the severed head of the birthday boy, might think that d'Avaux had courteously offered her his hand, and she had gratefully accepted it.

"By your leave, your majesty, I have heard it said that the rules of etiquette dictate ladies before gentlemen; was I deceived?"

"In no way, mademoiselle," said the King.

"I tell you, it was-" began d'Avaux; but the King silenced him with a flick of the eyes, and Eliza reinforced the message with some torque on the finger.

"Moreover, it is said that the laws of Heaven place love before hate, and peace before war; is it true?"

"Pourquoi non, mademoiselle?" mademoiselle?"

"Then as a lady who stands before your majesty on an errand of love, I beg precedence over this gentleman, my dear friend and mentor, Monsieur le comte d'Avaux, whose red and angry visage tells me he is on some errand of hateful retribution."

"So terrible is the news to-night that it would bring me, if not pleasure, pleasure, then perhaps a few moments' then perhaps a few moments' diversion diversion from what is so from what is so unpleasant, unpleasant, to grant you precedence over Monsieur d'Avaux; provided that to grant you precedence over Monsieur d'Avaux; provided that his his errand is not of an urgent nature." errand is not of an urgent nature."

"Oh, not at all, your majesty, what I have to say will be every bit as useful to you in a few minutes' time as it is now. I insist that Mademoiselle la comtesse de la Zeur go ahead." D'Avaux finally worried his finger free and backed off a step.