The Cat and the King by Louis Auchincloss Read Free Book Online

head of the house of Bourbon-Conti, a gallant warrior and a brilliant man, whom the king kept dangling idly in court because of the horrid contrast Conti had offered on the battlefield to the king’s poltroon bastard, Maine. Furthermore, Conti was safe from a bastardly alliance, as he was already married to his cousin, one of the Condés and a sister of Monsieur le Due. He was also, be it admitted at once, the lover of Madame la Duchesse, but this fact played no part in my plans. One could be the lover of a bastard without approving of bastardy. And not only was he an expert in genealogies and questions of precedence; he was an ardent believer in the restoration of the rights and duties of the peers. Here was a prince who offered a gleam of hope in our benighted days!
    Furthermore, he was not only my hero; he
looked
like a hero. He was, to put it simply, the most attractive man in the whole court, adored by men and women alike. He had very pale skin and black shiny ringleted hair, which he wore unpowdered. He was slight but muscular, and, though inclined to tenseness, moved with ease and agility. His eyes were large and dark and moist, and he spoke with a sweetness that made one at first suspect him of flattery. Yet why should he have stooped to flatter anyone? He simply loved people, and delighted to please them.
    The reader should not gather from this that he was indiscriminate. On the contrary, he could be very keenly observant and would often make the most devastating remarks in the gentlest of tones. And he was fearless, too, quite undaunted by the rank or power of the person whom he might be criticizing. Of course, his station in life made it impossible for him to fight duels, but he had proved his courage over and over again on the battlefield, where he had exposed himself almost as recklessly as Savonne in cavalry charges. He seemed, indeed, to enjoy danger.
    His popularity in the army had made him odious to the king, so Conti in the past year had been kept away from the military at court, where he had taken his revenge by carrying on his flagrant affair with Madame la Duchesse, to the unconcealed fury of their much less attractive spouses, who were, of course, brother and sister to each other.
    Conti was always kind to younger people at court, and I used to call at his beautiful rooms in the south wing, which looked over the orangerie. He had a collection of Poussin’s Roman landscapes and some remarkable Cellini figurines. One of these, a nude youth, seemed as perfectly made as himself. He liked to quiz me on questions of precedence, and he would gaze at me, while I answered, with that mild fixed stare of his. Sometimes I wondered if the velvet tone in which he made his comments was not mocking me. This was particularly so on the afternoon when I told him of the affair of the alms bag.
    â€œIt would be a comfort if we could look to you as our leader in these disputes,” I suggested.
    â€œAs your master of etiquette?”
    â€œI hope you don’t think I underestimate you!”
    â€œNo, no, my friend.” His fingers grazed my arm. “But for one who has dreamed of a generalship... well, surely you understand. In my brain I hear the roar of the cannon... and in my ears the chink of the alms bag.”
    â€œBut one goes with the other,” I protested. “I, too, have heard the cannon...”
    â€œAnd without flinching. I saw you at Neerwinden.”
    I flushed with pleasure. “Ah, sir, if you had your rights in the army, we should fear no enemy. I was saying to my friend Savonne only this morning: thank God for your marriage. You are safe from the bastards! The blood of the princesse de Conti is as pure as your own.
    â€œPurer,” he retorted, with another of his smiles. “I don’t forget that my mother was Mazarin’s niece. I’m sure
you
don’t.”
    I returned his smile discreetly. Of course I didn’t. “Many royal houses have been happy