CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

There was still a crowd in the street, even after the body had been removed. Desgrez pressed through the motley a.s.sortment of lackeys and pa.s.sersby to where the elderly servant woman sat on the front step weeping into her ap.r.o.n, surrounded by the mournful household staff.

"I saw it all, I saw it all, Monsieur," she responded to Desgrez's questions. "Good, kind, generous Monsieur Geniers had just given something to a beggar, when a hideous man, his face all wrapped in a scarf, stepped out from the alley over there-" She pointed, and all eyes turned to the narrow alley, its gutter running with filth.

"And then?" pressed Desgrez, his voice low and sympathetic.

"Monsieur, the fiend beat my master to the ground right there, where the bloodstain is. He smashed in his head with a big metal-tipped walking stick he was carrying."

"Can you describe the man you saw?"

"He was a beggar in a shapeless gray coat. But he had a gentleman's accent. There was no mistaking that."

"He spoke? What did he say?"

"He shouted something like, 'Here's your repayment, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d-' Monsieur, the scarf fell off...and..."

"Yes?" Desgrez was attentive.

"Monsieur, the man had no face."

"A faceless man, Desgrez? This should not present much of a problem of identification. Did she say if he were a leper?" La Reynie was inspecting the murder report that lay before him on his desk.

"I think it more likely that it was a criminal whose nose and ears had been cropped," answered his subordinate.

"And yet with a gentleman's accent. An impossibility, I think. This presents a puzzle, Desgrez." He shook his head. "A man of Monsieur Geniers's position, respected, of unblemished reputation, murdered on his own doorstep. It is a scandal. Louvois will doubtless take a direct interest, and possibly even His Majesty. We must give this case the highest priority. Search his house again, Desgrez. Interview his colleagues. Go through his correspondence. There is not a man alive that does not have some hidden enemy."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

"Madame, you make a fool of yourself staring out of the window. He won't come back, and you know it. Men always vanish when they've had their pleasure." Outside, the white curtain of falling snow hid the tall, slate rooftops of the city, covered the black icy mud of the rue Chariot, and changed everything inanimate into curious mounds and shapes of shining white.

"I just like looking at the snow. Some people find that poetic, you know." It was the eve of the new year; tomorrow would be 1677.

"Poetic, ha! That man's afraid of losing the d.u.c.h.esse's patronage. Men always look to their own convenience first. He may be a ladies' man, but he knows which side his bread is b.u.t.tered on."

"Men this, men that! Who made you the philosopher of men?"

"Men did, Madame. And I say that when one of them walks out, you should do as they do, and take another lover. Brissac, for example. Myself, I think a man of rank is better than a n.o.body scribbler, even if he does have absolutely lovely calves." I turned on her fiercely.

"Sylvie! Who has paid you? Brissac or La Voisin?"

"Oh, both," she said calmly. "But as I'm loyal to you, I won't hide it. My own opinion is, take Brissac, have a good time, and forget about the rest."

"I thought Brissac was angry at me."

"Oh, that was before. Now he tries to creep back into Nevers's favor. But he needs to be seen at the right places, you know. He has to look good, craft some new bon mots, provide little services..."

"All of which require money. So, if I buy him a new suit of clothes, hire a poet, and cover his gambling debts, he'll escort me about to places I don't want to be to a.s.sociate with people I dislike. It's no bargain, Sylvie."

"But...a d.u.c.h.esse...you could have a grand t.i.tle, even if he is bankrupt."

"Don't fool yourself, Sylvie. As long as he has a hope of prying a sou out of the current d.u.c.h.esse's family, she'll keep her health. And once he's free, the only use I would have is to provide money for him to chase another pedigree."

"But Madame says he has weakened. He confessed to her that he would consider a secret marriage."

"And what good would a secret marriage do me? That's for silly girls who want to pretend they haven't been seduced. It's the protection of an acknowledged marriage that I need-that, and his t.i.tle, dubious as it is. He must think I'm a simpleton."

"But at least say you'll give the idea consideration. Then I don't have to lie to Madame." Her face was serious.

"Well then, I've considered it. There. Now tell me who'll be at La Voisin's New Year's celebration tonight. Brissac?"

"Of course. But Madame has also hired the most splendid violins. And there'll be partridges and suckling pig, as well as mutton and ham."

"Oh, if there'll be partridges, then everything will be perfect, won't it?"

"That's what I told Madame, and she said I was a greedy wench, and she was surprised I hadn't eaten you out of house and home already. She also said wear the antique black with the jet-beaded bodice. You might get some important new customers. The Marquis de Cessac and his friends will be coming. Also some Italian bishop who's in town. Madame says you must develop foreign connections if you wish to prosper."

The evening was already well under way when I arrived. Through the frosted windows, bright lights blazed, and one could hear the clatter of conversation and laughter each time the door opened onto the snowy street. I picked my way through the crush of carriages at the door just behind a masked actress and her latest escort. The sound of violins and laughter could be heard in the black parlor.

"Ah, here is the ever charming Madame de Morville, whom the centuries cannot spoil..." Brissac, pushing his way through the crowd to greet me at the door. How offensive. But with La Voisin and Brissac's creature de Vandeuil hovering in the background. I smiled, but not too much. He bowed an elaborate greeting. He had a new hat but the same velvet coat with the tarnished gold braid and the singe marks from standing too close to the fire during one or another experiment in diabolism.

"Monsieur de Brissac, I am so enchanted to see you once more." I removed my mask.

"Ah! I am overwhelmed. Your features are more radiant than ever, my dear Marquise." Brissac stepped back, as if dazzled by some overbright object. How long will this go on, I thought, as I smiled an arch little smile at him.

"My dear friend," announced La Voisin in tones of false warmth, "Monsieur le Duc has the most splendid idea for a charming little evening that we cannot but enjoy immensely." We. Oh, d.a.m.n, I couldn't wiggle out. La Voisin had accepted for us both.

"Ah, it is nothing-a trifle-but one that I lay at your feet, gracious lady." Get on with it, Brissac, you toad. I tilted my head and tapped my cheek with my closed fan, to show my interest. La Voisin beamed.

"The Duc de Nevers has entrusted me with a little commission. A delightful one. He has joined with the d.u.c.h.esse de Bouillon in purchasing a number of boxes for the performance of the latest effusion of Monsieur Pradon's genius, Phedre et Hippolyte, and wishes, as a mark of his favor, to distribute the places to those connoisseurs of art who can truly appreciate such a masterwork." Ah, another Mancini cabal. This time with Brissac as the agent. What a pretty little plan of his to regain Nevers's favor! The d.u.c.h.esse de Bouillon had bought and left empty all the boxes at the theatre to destroy Racine's premiere and now she would raise up her pet, Pradon, with the a.s.sistance of a claque recruited by Nevers. The way of the artist certainly isn't simple. For a moment, the memory of Lamotte so long ago, hollow cheeked and idealistic, flashed into my mind. Then I thought of Racine. What had he done to offend them, these Mancinis, that they would destroy his masterwork as casually as one would crush a fly?

"Surely, you are not proposing that I, a widow of antique reputation, attend the theatre?"

"In disguise, masked, with a party of ladies and gentlemen of rank. Such a lark, to witness the triumph of Pradon. And, after all, true souls grow in understanding in the presence of great art. Give me hope, Marquise, that in securing your enjoyment I can hope to enjoy your favor." I opened my fan one compartment and moved it languidly. "Maybe," it signaled.

"Madame Montvoisin has offered her kind consent to accompany my dear friend, the Vicomte de Cousserans." La Voisin's latest lover. d.a.m.n. There'll be no backing out of this one.

"Who am I, then, to refuse the promise of such a delightful evening?" La Voisin's eyes glittered. Lamotte and d'Urbec had been vanquished. Her project was under way.