The Oracle Glass by Judith Merkle Riley Read Free Book Online Page B

volition, read my treatise on the salvation of the state through fiscal reform. Were it not so muddy, I would kneel before you and declare myself, O perceptive, gray-eyed Athena.”
    â€œYou are all mockers, and I am going home. I am sure my mother would not approve of your acquaintance.” I turned to leave. The ragamuffins had given up and departed.
    â€œThen we will accompany you, to help our dear friend Lamotte press his case—as well as to protect you from the sort of riff-raff one finds in taverns,” the Griffon announced.
    â€œGriffon, back off; you hinder me,” growled Lamotte.
    â€œThen don’t expect me to print your next volume of sonnets,” Gillet announced.
    â€œWhen my plays are famous, I will have another printer publish the complete edition and grow wealthy in your place,” Lamotte sniffed.
    â€œCalm, calm, Messieurs. You have reached an impasse where only philosophy can resolve your differences.” Cato caught up with the bickering party on my heels.
    â€œ Political philosophy? When have political philosophers failed to stir up trouble and sedition? Wars have been fought because of political philosophy,” Griffon replied.
    I turned the corner into the rue des Marmousets so quickly that they had trouble keeping up with me, involved in their quarrel as they were. Then Cato stepped adroitly in front of me, striking a classic pose, with one hand over his heart and the other outstretched as if for oration.
    â€œI appeal to you, Athena. They have wounded me to the quick. Defend me, a poor philosopher, and my works.” The speech was mocking, but something quite different flickered deep in his eyes. It frightened me, and I fled from it. We had reached the little door beside the heavy carriage gate into our courtyard.
    â€œYou all embarrass me on my own doorstep. Good day, Messieurs.”
    â€œOh dear,” said Griffon, looking up and down our house. “It’s the Hôtel Pasquier. They’re very rich here. Petronius, you haven’t a chance. Write all you want, you’ll never even get an invitation to put your nose in the door.” Of course, Petronius. What else would a fellow like this, all ribbons and fancy buttons, call himself but after the arbiter elegantarum ? But the mustachioed cavalier had pulled a letter out of his shirt front, which he pressed into my hand.
    â€œMademoiselle, I beg you by all that is holy. Transmit this message to the Beloved Angel Above.”
    â€œTo Marie-Angélique?”
    â€œMarie-Angélique—oh, I always knew she was an angel. Tell her I’m perishing.”
    â€œThat’s what they all say.”
    â€œAll? I have a rival? Who is he?”
    â€œWell, the latest one was my tutor. He languished considerably.”
    â€œWith what result?” cried Petronius, suddenly fierce.
    â€œBy mutual agreement, he was sent away to make his fortune selling a scheme of memory training.”
    â€œHeart broken, I suppose?” He had regained his lightness of tone once more.
    â€œOh, I suppose. But he is now tutoring the bastards of some provincial count and paying his court to Mademoiselle du Parc, the actress.”
    â€œThen he was not worthy of her. I, on the other hand, am deeply worthy. Take my letter, I pray—”
    â€œIt will cost you.” It was only fair I be repaid for all this public embarrassment.
    â€œIsn’t love worth more than mere money?”
    â€œThat isn’t what I had in mind, Monsieur Petronius. I do you a favor…one that isn’t entirely proper…and so you should do one for me in return. And I’ve been wanting a copy of the Satyricon for a long time, now. It would only be appropriate—”
    â€œOho, you are a bad girl, Mademoiselle. Anyone caught purchasing the French translation will spend a fine long time in the Châtelet,” said Griffon.
    â€œI had in mind the Latin. I can’t purchase it myself, you