"But his son lives on: Monsieur le marquis de Seignelay. Secretary of State for the Navy, like his father before him, and my father's boss. Do you have the faintest idea what it is like, for one such as my father-a hereditary Duke of an ancient line, and cousin of the King-to see a commoner's son treated as if he were a peer of the realm? To be subordinated subordinated to a man whose father was a to a man whose father was a merchant merchant?"

"It must be difficult," Eliza said, without much sympathy.

"Not as difficult for the Duc d'Arcachon as some of the others-for my father is not as arrogant as some. My father is subservient, flexible, adaptable-"

"And in this case," Eliza said, completing the thought-for the Marquis was in danger of losing his nerve-"the way he means to adapt is by marrying etienne off to the female who most reminds him of Colbert."

"Common origins, good with money, respected by the King," said the Marquis. "And if she is beautiful and breeds true, why, so much the better. You may imagine that you are some sort of outsider to the Court of Versailles, mademoiselle, that you do not belong there at all. But the truth of the matter is thus: Versailles has only existed for seven years. It does not have any ancient traditions. It was made by Colbert, the commoner. It is full of n.o.bles, true; but you fool yourself if you believe that they feel comfortable there-feel as if they belong. No, it is you, you, mademoiselle, who are the perfect courtier of Versailles, you whom the others shall envy, once you go there and establish yourself. My father feels himself slipping down, sees his family losing its wealth, its influence. He throws a rope up, hoping that someone on higher and firmer ground will s.n.a.t.c.h it out of the air and pull him to safety-and that someone is mademoiselle, who are the perfect courtier of Versailles, you whom the others shall envy, once you go there and establish yourself. My father feels himself slipping down, sees his family losing its wealth, its influence. He throws a rope up, hoping that someone on higher and firmer ground will s.n.a.t.c.h it out of the air and pull him to safety-and that someone is you, you, mademoiselle." mademoiselle."

"It is a heavy charge to lay on a woman who has no money, and who is busy trying to raise an infant," Eliza said. "I hope that your father is not really as desperate as you make him sound."

"He is not desperate yet. yet. But when he lies awake at night, he schemes against the possibility that he, or his descendants, may become desperate in the future." But when he lies awake at night, he schemes against the possibility that he, or his descendants, may become desperate in the future."

"If what you say is creditable, I have much to do," said Eliza, turning from the window, and smoothing her skirt down with her hands.

"What shall you do first, mademoiselle?"

"I believe I shall write a letter to England, monsieur."

"England! But we are at war with England," the Marquis pointed out, mock-offended.

"What I have in mind is a Natural-Philosophic sort of discourse," Eliza said, "and Philosophy recognizes no boundaries."

"Ah, you will write to one of your friends in the Royal Society?"

"I had in mind a Dr. Waterhouse," Eliza said. "He was cut for the stone recently."

The Marquis got the same aghast, cringing, yet fascinated look that all men did whenever the topic of lithotomy arose in conversation.

"Last I heard, he had lived through it, and was recovering," Eliza continued. "Perhaps he has time on his hands to answer idle inquiries from a French countess."

"Perhaps he does," said the Marquis, "but I cannot understand why the first thing that enters your mind is to write a letter to a sick old Natural Philosopher in London."

"It's only the first first thing, not the thing, not the only only thing, that I'll do," said Eliza. "It's a thing easily done from Dunkerque. I would begin a conversation with him, or with someone, concerning money: soft and hard." thing, that I'll do," said Eliza. "It's a thing easily done from Dunkerque. I would begin a conversation with him, or with someone, concerning money: soft and hard."

"Why not discuss it with a Spaniard? They know how to make money that people respect all around the world."

"It is precisely because the English coinage is so pathetic that I wish to take up the matter with an Englishman," Eliza returned. "No one here can believe that Englishmen accept those blackened lumps as specie. And yet the trade of England is great, and the country is as prosperous as any. So to me England seems like an enormous Lyon: poor in specie, but rich in credit, and thriving through a system of paper transfers."

"Which will boot them nothing in a war," said the Marquis. "For in war, a king must send his armies abroad, to places where soft money is not accepted. Therefore he must send hard money with them that they may buy fodder and other necessaries. How then can England war against France?"

"The same question might be asked of France! By your leave, monsieur, her money is not as sound as you might like to think,"

"Do you suppose that this Dr. Waterhouse will have answers to such questions?"

"No, but I hope that he will engage in a discourse with me whence answers might emerge."

"I believe that the answer lies in Trade," said the Marquis. "Colbert himself said, 'Trade is the source of finance, and finance is the vital sinews of war.' What our countries cannot pay for with bullion, they will have to get in trade."

"C'est juste, monsieur, but do not forget that there is trade not only in tangible stuff like Monsieur Wachsmann's wax, but also in money itself: the stock in trade of Lothar von Hacklheber. Which is a murky and abstruse business, and a fit topic of study for Fellows of the Royal Society." monsieur, but do not forget that there is trade not only in tangible stuff like Monsieur Wachsmann's wax, but also in money itself: the stock in trade of Lothar von Hacklheber. Which is a murky and abstruse business, and a fit topic of study for Fellows of the Royal Society."

"I thought they only studied b.u.t.terflies."

"Some of them, monsieur, study banks and money as well; and I fear they have got a head start on our French French lepidopterists." lepidopterists."

Cap Gris-Nez, France.

15 DECEMBER 1689.

A DUTCHMAN PAINTING THIS SCAPE would have had little recourse to pigments; a spate of gull-s.h.i.t on a bench could have served as his palette. The sky was white, and so was the ground. The branches of the trees were black, except where snow had begun sticking to them. The chateau was half-timbered, therefore plaster-white in most places, webbed with ancient timbers that had turned the color of charcoal as they absorbed snow-damp. The roof was red tile; but this was mostly covered in snow. From place to place the presence of a stove underneath was betrayed by a seeping lake of red. It was not especially grand as chateaux went nowadays: a rectangular court open on the side facing the Channel, with stables to one side, servants' quarters to the other, and the big house holding them together, squarely facing the sea. Before it the ground dropped away sharply, and so the sh.o.r.eline was not visible: just a distant strip of gray salt.w.a.ter, which faded into the white atmosphere far short of the Dover sh.o.r.e. would have had little recourse to pigments; a spate of gull-s.h.i.t on a bench could have served as his palette. The sky was white, and so was the ground. The branches of the trees were black, except where snow had begun sticking to them. The chateau was half-timbered, therefore plaster-white in most places, webbed with ancient timbers that had turned the color of charcoal as they absorbed snow-damp. The roof was red tile; but this was mostly covered in snow. From place to place the presence of a stove underneath was betrayed by a seeping lake of red. It was not especially grand as chateaux went nowadays: a rectangular court open on the side facing the Channel, with stables to one side, servants' quarters to the other, and the big house holding them together, squarely facing the sea. Before it the ground dropped away sharply, and so the sh.o.r.eline was not visible: just a distant strip of gray salt.w.a.ter, which faded into the white atmosphere far short of the Dover sh.o.r.e.

A four-horse carriage and a two-horse baggage-wain were drawn up in the court. Booted footmen and drivers, wrapped in damp wool, were stomping from horse to horse, removing empty feed-bags and cinching harnesses. A large woman, her face lodged at the end of a tunnel of bonnet, emerged from the servants' quarters, tugging a heavy blanket over her shoulders. She got a foot on the step below the carriage door and launched herself into it, making the vehicle list and oscillate on its suspension. A pair of men emerged from the stable, whacking smoky wads from the bowls of their clay pipes. They pulled on heavy gloves and mounted horses; as they swung legs over saddles, their heavy riding-coats parted for a moment, showing that each of these men was rigged like a battleship with an a.s.sortment of small cannons, daggers, and cutla.s.ses.

The front door of the main house swung open and color burst forth: a dress in green silk, complicated by ribbons and flounces in many other colors, a pink face, blue eyes, yellow hair held up with diverse jewelled pins and more ribbons. She turned about to bid a last farewell to someone inside, which made the skirt flare out, then turned again and walked into the courtyard. Her attention was fixed on the one person here who had not yet mounted a horse or climbed aboard a vehicle: a man as brief and stout as a mortar, in a long coat and boots that had turned black from damp. His hat-a vast tricornered production rimmed in gold braid and fledged with ostrich-plumes-had toppled from his head and listed on the snow like a beached flagship. The prints made in the snow by his boots, and the furrows carved by the skirts of his coat and the scabbard of his small-sword, proved that he had been eddying about the court for quite a while. His gaze was fixed on a small bundle that was in midair just in front of him.

The woman in the green dress bent down to pick up the forgotten hat, and gave it a shake, releasing a flurry of snow from the ostrich-plume.

The bundle reached an apogee, hung there for a moment a few feet above the man's bare head, and began to accelerate toward the ground. He let it drop freely for a moment, then got his gloved hands underneath it and began gently to slow its descent. The bundle came to a stop only a hand's breadth above the ground, the man bent over like a grave-digger. A scream emerged from the bundle, which made the woman's spine snap straight; but the scream turned out to be nothing more than the prelude to a long, drawn-out cackle of laughter. The woman relaxed and exhaled, then jerked to attention again as the man emitted a long whoop and heaved the bundle high into the air again.

In time she managed to get the man's attention without leading him to drop the baby. Hat was exchanged for infant. She climbed into the coach, handing the baby in before her to a smaller woman who was sitting across from the big one. He-despite being dressed as a gentleman-clambered onto a perch at the back of the coach, normally used by a pair of footmen, but of a comfortable width for one man of his physique. The train of horses and vehicles pulled out onto the frozen road that meandered along the cliff-tops, and turned so that England and the Channel were to the right, France to the left.

A few hundred yards along, they slowed for a few moments so that the woman in the green dress could gaze out the window at some new earthworks that had been thrown up there: a revetment for a pair of mortars. Then they moved on, a thicket of legs and a storm of reins, black against the fresh snow, which m.u.f.fled the sounds of their pa.s.sage and swallowed them up, leaving nothing for a painter to depict except a blank canvas, and nothing for a writer to describe except an empty page.

"ONE OF THE OTHER THINGS they have at Versailles is physicians." The voice emerged from a grate in the back of the coach. they have at Versailles is physicians." The voice emerged from a grate in the back of the coach.

"Oh, but we have those in abundance aboard our ships, my lady."

"You have barbers. barbers. You have consulted them for months, and still cannot sit down! I am speaking of You have consulted them for months, and still cannot sit down! I am speaking of physicians. physicians."

"It is true that barbers make a specialty of the other other end of the anatomy from that which concerns end of the anatomy from that which concerns me, me," said the man on the perch. "Nature, though, offers her own remedies. I have packed my breeches with snow. At first it was shocking, intolerable." He had to wait now, for some moments.

"You laugh," he went on, "but, my lady, you do not appreciate the relief that this affords me, in more ways than one. For not only does it relieve the pain and swelling aft, but also, a similar but not so unpleasant symptom fore, which any man would complain of who went on a journey of any length in your company..."

Two of the women laughed again, but the third was having none of it, and answered him firmly: "The journey is not so long, for those of us who can sit down. The destination is a place where wit is prized, so long as it is discreet and refined, and does not offend the likes of Madame de Maintenon. But these sailorly jests of yours shall be immense faux pas, faux pas, and shall defeat the whole purpose of your coming there." and shall defeat the whole purpose of your coming there."

"What is is the purpose, my lady? You summoned me, and I reported for duty. I supposed my role was to keep my G.o.dson amused. But I can see that you disapprove of my methods. In a few years, when Jean-Jacques learns to talk, he will, I'm certain, take my side in the matter, and demand to be flung about; in the meantime, I am dragged along in your wake, purposeless." He gazed curiously out to sea; but the train had turned inland, and the object of his desire was rapidly receding into the white distance. He was hopelessly a-ground. the purpose, my lady? You summoned me, and I reported for duty. I supposed my role was to keep my G.o.dson amused. But I can see that you disapprove of my methods. In a few years, when Jean-Jacques learns to talk, he will, I'm certain, take my side in the matter, and demand to be flung about; in the meantime, I am dragged along in your wake, purposeless." He gazed curiously out to sea; but the train had turned inland, and the object of his desire was rapidly receding into the white distance. He was hopelessly a-ground.

"You are forever fussing over your ships, Lieutenant Bart, wishing that you had more, or that the ones you have were bigger, or in better repair..."

"All the more reason, my lady, for me to jump off of this unnatural conveyance and return to Dunkerque post-haste!"

"And do what? Build a ship with your own hands, out of snow? What is needed is not Jean Bart in Dunkerque. What is needed is Jean Bart at Versailles."

"What purpose can I serve there, my lady? Pilot a row-boat on the King's reflecting-pool?"

"You want resources. You compete for them against many others. Your most formidable compet.i.tor is the Army. Do you know why the Army gets all the resources, Lieutenant Bart?"

"Do they? I am shocked to hear this."

"That is because you never see them; but if you did, you would be outraged at how much money they get, compared to the Navy, and how many of the best people. Let us take etienne de Lavardac as an example."

"The son of the duc d'Arcachon?"

"Do not affect ignorance, Lieutanant Bart. You know who he is, and that he knocked me up. Can you think of any young n.o.bleman with stronger ties to the Navy? And yet when war broke out, what did he do?"

"I've no idea."

"He organized a cavalry regiment and rode off to war on the Rhine."

"Ungrateful pup! I'll work him over with the flat of my cutla.s.s."

"Yes, and when you are finished you can go to Rome and poke the Pope in the eye with a stick!" suggested the smaller of the Countess's two a.s.sistants.

"It is a splendid idea, Nicole-I shall do it for you!" Bart returned.

"Do you know why why etienne made such a choice?" asked the lady, unamused. etienne made such a choice?" asked the lady, unamused.

"All I know is, someone needs to teach him some more manners."

"That is exactly wrong exactly wrong-someone needs to teach him less. less. For he is generally agreed to be the politest man in France." For he is generally agreed to be the politest man in France."

"He must have forgot his manners at least once, once," said Jean Bart, pressing his face to the grate and peering at little Jean-Jacques, who had his face buried in his mother's left breast.

"Nay, for even when he impregnated me he did so politely," said the mother. "It is because of this sense of honor, of decorum, that he, and all the other young Court men, prefer the Army to the Navy."

"Hmm!"

"At last I have rendered you speechless, Jean Bart, and so I'll take this rare opportunity to explain further. Every man at Court professes his loyalty to the King, indeed does little else but prate about it from sunup to sundown, which pleases the King well enough in times of peace. But in time of war, each and every man must go out and demonstrate his loyalty with deeds. On a battlefield, a Cavalier may attire himself in magnificent armor and ride forth on a brilliant steed to engage the foe in single combat; and what is better, he does so in full view of many others like him, so that those who survive the day can get together in their tent when it is all over and agree on what happened. But on the sea all is different, for our dashing fop is lumped together with all of the other men on the ship, who are mostly common sailors; he lives with them, and cannot move from place to place, or engage a foe, without their a.s.sistance. To order a gang of swabbies, 'charge your cannon and fire it in the general direction of yonder dot on the horizon,' is altogether different from galloping up to a Dutchman on a rampart and swinging your sword-blade at his neck."

"We do not fire at dots on the horizon," huffed Jean Bart, "however, I take your meaning only too well."

"You, because of your recent exploit, are a shining counterexample to this general rule; and if we can get a physician to patch up your a.r.s.e so that you can sit down at dinner and regale some Court ladies with the story-preferably without resorting to profanity or any other ribald elements-it shall translate directly into more money for the Navy."

"And more Court fops to adorn my decks?"

"That comes unavoidably with money, Jean Bart, it is how the game is played." And then she was banging on the carriage ceiling. "Gaetan! Over there, I see what looks like a new powder-magazine, let's go have a look."

"If my lady wishes to review all all of his majesty's new coastal fortifications," said Jean Bart, "it is a thing more easily done from the deck of a ship." of his majesty's new coastal fortifications," said Jean Bart, "it is a thing more easily done from the deck of a ship."

"But then I don't get to interview the local intendants, intendants, and learn the gossip behind the fortifications." and learn the gossip behind the fortifications."

"Is that that what you were doing?" what you were doing?"

"Yes."

"What did you learn?"

"That the chain of interlocking mortar emplacements we viewed this morning was financed by a low-interest loan to His Majesty's Treasury from Monsieur le comte d'Etaples, who melted down a twelfth-century gold punchbowl for it; and at the same time he improved the road from Fruges to Fauquembergues so that it can carry ammunition-carts even during the spring thaw; and in return the King saw to it that an old lawsuit against him was delayed indefinitely, and he got to hold a candle one morning at the King's levee."

"It makes one wonder what fascinations may be connected with yon powder-house! Perhaps some local Sieur cashed in his great-grandpere's ruby-set toenail-clippers to pay for the roof!" exclaimed Jean Bart, to stifled gurgles from Nicole and the large woman inside.

"Next summer, when Baltic timber is stacked to three times your height around the shipyard of Dunkerque, we shall see then if you are still mocking me," said she who was not amused.

"I BEG YOUR PARDON, BEG YOUR PARDON, mademoiselle; but this sound that you are making, 'yoo-hoo! yoo-hoo,' has never been heard before in his majesty's stables, or anywhere else in France that I know of. To the humans who live here, such as myself and my lord, it is devoid of meaning, and to the horses, it is a cause of acute distress. I beg you to stop, and to speak French, lest you cause a general panic." mademoiselle; but this sound that you are making, 'yoo-hoo! yoo-hoo,' has never been heard before in his majesty's stables, or anywhere else in France that I know of. To the humans who live here, such as myself and my lord, it is devoid of meaning, and to the horses, it is a cause of acute distress. I beg you to stop, and to speak French, lest you cause a general panic."

"It is a common greeting in Qwghlmian, monsieur."

"Ah!" This brought the man to a hard stop for several moments. The stables of Versailles, in December, were not renowned for illumination; but Eliza could hear the gentleman's satins hissing, and his linens creaking, as he bowed. She made curtseying noises in return. This was answered by a short burst of scratching and rasping as the gentleman adjusted his wig. She cleared her throat. He called for a candle, and got a whole silver candelabra: a chevron of flames, bobbing and banking, like a formation of fireflies, through the ambient miasma of horse-breath, manure-gas, and wig-powder.

"I had the honor of being introduced to you a year ago, along the banks of the Meuse," said the gentleman, "when my lord-"

"I remember with fondness and grat.i.tude your hospitality, Monsieur de Mayet," said Eliza, which jerked another quick bow from him, "and the alacrity with which you conducted me into the presence of Monsieur de Lavardac on that that occasion-" occasion-"

"He will see you immediately, mademoiselle!" announced de Mayet, though not until after they had watched a second candelabra zoom back and forth a few times between the stall where they were standing, and one that lay even deeper in the penetralia of the stables. "This way, please, around the manure-pile."

"TRULY, MONSIEUR, YOU ARE SECOND to none in piety. Even Father edouard de Gex is a wastrel compared to you. For in this season of Christmas, when all go to Ma.s.s and hear homilies about Him who lived His first days in a stable, etienne de Lavardac d'Arcachon is the only one who is actually living in the same estate, and sleeping on a pile of hay." to none in piety. Even Father edouard de Gex is a wastrel compared to you. For in this season of Christmas, when all go to Ma.s.s and hear homilies about Him who lived His first days in a stable, etienne de Lavardac d'Arcachon is the only one who is actually living in the same estate, and sleeping on a pile of hay."

"To piety piety I can make no claims whatever, mademoiselle, though I do aspire, at times, to the lesser virtue of I can make no claims whatever, mademoiselle, though I do aspire, at times, to the lesser virtue of politeness. politeness."

They had fetched out a chair for her to sit on, and she had accepted it, only because she knew that if she didn't, etienne would be too stricken with horror to speak. He was squatting on a low stool used by farriers. The floor of the stall had been strewn with fresh straw, or as fresh as could be had in December.

"So Madame la d.u.c.h.esse d'Arcachon explained to me, when I arrived at La Dunette yester evening, and found that you and your household had moved out of it; not merely out of the house, house, but the entire but the entire estate. estate."

"Thank G.o.d, we had received notice of your approach."

"But the purpose of my sending that notice was not to drive you out to his majesty's stables."

"No one has been driven, driven, mademoiselle. Rather, I am mademoiselle. Rather, I am lured lured hither by the prospect of a.s.suring hither by the prospect of a.s.suring your your comfort at La Dunette, and preserving comfort at La Dunette, and preserving your your reputation." reputation."

"That much is understood, monsieur, and deep is my grat.i.tude. But as I am to be lodging in an outlying cottage, which cannot even be seen from the main house, and which is reached by a separate road, your mother is of the view that you may stay at home, even as I lodge at the cottage, without even the most censorious observer perceiving any taint. And I happen to agree with her."

"Ah, but, mademoiselle-"

"So firm is your mother in holding this view that she shall be gravely offended if you do not return home at once! And I have come to deliver the message in person so that you can be under no misapprehensions as to my my view of the matter." view of the matter."