Abundance: A Novel of Marie Antoinette (P.S.) by Sena Jeter Naslund Read Free Book Online Page B

those flanking the Great Courtyard. The sides of the third courtyard come yet closer to one another; it is almost intimate in comparison to the others; called the Marble Courtyard, it is paved with black and white marble. In all her magnificence of gilded gates, walls, and teeming courtyards, with three pairs of arms, Versailles welcomes me. My new home!
    As we regard from afar the spectacle of the palace, my heart flutters, excited and eager to fly to this realm of legend. Everyone about me stirs with excitement, and the coach is like a cage of fluttering birds in splendid plumage. Our three-week journey is soon to terminate in our release.
    Unimpressed, our horses stamp their feet, and their tails swish at flies while they await the flick of the reins to signal that we progress. Comtesse de Noailles points to the distance with a long finger and instructs me to observe, in the center of the cobblestoned Royal Courtyard, a bronze equestrian statue of Louis XIV, whose architects drained a swamp to fashion this, the grandest court in Europe. The statue is too far away for me to see clearly, but I take, on faith, that it is not a large lump but indeed the Great Sun King, who so boldly proclaimed L’état, c’est moi. I am the state.
    At the back of the smallest courtyard, paved with black and white marble, Count Starhemberg explains, is located the center of power: the bedroom of the present king, Louis XV. At one level elevated above the ground level, his tall windows rise directly as the back boundary of the Marble Courtyard. His chamber is at the center of everything, and all the arrangement of corridors, rooms, and buildings reaching outward and forward emanate from his bed. I realize that it is not here that he entertains the du Barry, but in some less stately boudoir.
    I lick the roof of my mouth, that tiny room where the fleshy tongue must live. I moisten my lips, which are dry with the heat of awe.
    I can only say aloud of Versailles spread before me in the distance, It’s magnificent. Perhaps my tone conveys something of my reverence for the splendor and power of France. My companions in the coach are satisfied that I have scarcely breath enough to project only the shortest of sentences toward this assemblage of astounding wealth.
    Our own palaces, the mighty Hofburg in the heart of Vienna and my beloved Schönbrunn, set some distance from Vienna, just as Versailles is some distance from Paris, do not compare in magnificence. But Schönbrunn is more beautiful, my heart reassures. Yes, at least to me. Its scale has remained fit for humans. Here, surely one must have wings and fly about like a god or goddess. Or a humble bird ignorant of the achievements of humans.
    I nod, thus giving the simple signal, quickly conveyed to our postilion, that the horses are to move onward, toward my new home.
    As we descend, the pattern of three courtyards of decreasing size, defined by the embracing buildings, loses its design and becomes a jumble, like a labyrinth. Yet, still rising above all the other buildings, though it is off to the right side, not so central as the bedroom of the King, the Royal Chapel remains distinct and defines itself most proudly. It is appropriate that God’s house should be highest. Under that highest roof, crowned with gold gleaming in the sunlight, we will be wed today.
    I do not know where in all this array of mellow stone and brick, just where inside those long buildings, our bed lies. My body surges strangely at the thought, but in my clothing I sit still with no immodest stirrings.
    A few months ago, when I was still a child, my mother drew me onto her lap to explain to me the marriage twins of duty and desire. She spoke of bliss, and of penetrant pain, of Générale Krottendorf, and of engulfing transports of wifely love. I squirmed with delight to hear of it, and she told me to sit still; she kept her arms tight around me as she talked.
    Seated in this moving carriage, I allow no anticipatory