The Road to Compiegne by Jean Plaidy Read Free Book Online Page B

inevitable.’
    ‘Because she is so pretty?’
    ‘Yes. And she will be acquiescent, I doubt not.’
    ‘There is a certain air of sensuality about her,’ agreed the Marquise. ‘Well, she is young and healthy . . . and it must be expected. But tell me your news, Monsieur de Gontaut.’
    He was about to speak when a manservant hurried into the room. The Marquise looked astonished at the intrusion.
    ‘Monsieur le Marquis . . .’ began the servant. He turned to the Marquise and bowed. ‘Madame . . . I beg you to forgive this intrusion, but the alley at the back of the house is fast filling with the mob, and they are shouting that they will break down the doors and force an entrance.’
    The Marquis turned pale. ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘you must go to your carriage immediately, while there is yet time.’
    ‘But my daughter . . .’
    ‘It is better that she should see her mother another day than never again,’ muttered the Marquis grimly.
    ‘But you think . . .’
    ‘Madame, I know the mob.’
    The Marquis had taken her firmly by the arm. He signed to his servant. ‘See if they are gathered about Madame’s carriage.’
    The servant left to obey. He came back in a second or two. ‘No, sir, there are few people in the street as yet.’
    The Marquis then hurried his guest out to her carriage. ‘Whip up the horses,’ he instructed the driver. ‘And . . . back to Versailles with all speed.’
    As they drove through the streets, the Marquise heard her name shouted when the carriage was recognised. She sat erect looking neither to right nor left, wondering whether some bold agitators would rush to her carriage and stop its progress. What then? What would they do to the woman whom they hated so bitterly?
    Why do they hate me so much? she asked herself.
    They had read those scurrilous verses which had been composed about her – those poissonades as they had been called; they sang songs about her; they blamed her for the weakness and extravagance of the King.
    She had too many enemies. She knew that in the Dauphin’s apartments plots were concocted against her. The Queen naturally had no love for her. The Princesses looked upon her as their rival in their father’s affection. Richelieu and his friends watched for any opportunity which might be used to bring about her downfall.
    When she and her mother had planned her glorious future they had not taken into account such enemies.
    She felt exhausted; and it was when she felt thus that those fits of coughing, which were becoming more and more distressing, could be imminent.
    That reminded her that of all her enemies her ill-health was the greatest.
    How relieved she was to leave the city behind her; now the horses were galloping along the road; now she could see the great honey-coloured château before her.
    She knew suddenly that the time had come to take drastic action. She had long put off taking this step, not only because it was dangerous, but because it was repellent.
    Yet at this moment she was certain it was imperative that she should take it.
    Her thoughts were now on the ripe young girl – as yet innocent, but for how long? – who had waited on her in the house of the Marquis de Gontaut.

    Louis was overcome with remorse. These were the moods which the Marquise feared more than any others, for it was when repentance and the desire to lead a virtuous life overtook such men as Louis that such women as herself might be considered not only redundant but a menace to their salvation.
    If her plan worked she would have little to fear in the future. But it was such a daring plan. Could it succeed? If she discussed it with her friends they would say she was mad.
    Her dear friend Madame du Hausset was extremely worried. She was the only one with whom she had dared talk of her plan.
    Dear old Hausset had shaken her head.
    ‘I would not, Madame. Oh no, I would not.’
    ‘If I had not been bold I should not be where I am today,’ replied the Marquise.
    And this night the