Etienne appeared hopeful as he waited for his mother’s reply.
“I don’t know, but not now,” Jeanne said.
Lisette watched her brother’s scowl return. He looked like he was about to cry.
Jeanne bent down to Etienne’s eye level and said, “Soon, very soon. Our life is going to change very soon.” Her voice was soft.
“When is that? When exactly can we get new shoes?” Lisette pressed her mother.
Jeanne stood and glared at Lisette. “Soon is all I can say. We can’t waste any more time. We must go,” Jeanne said in an abrasive voice as she held open the door.
“Mother, do we have to go to the Tuileries gardens today? Can we visit the Saint-Laurent Fair instead? It won’t be open for much longer, the feast day of Saint Michel is almost here,” Etienne said.
“Yes! Can we, Mother? There is a play by Monsigny being performed that I’d like to see, La belle Arsène. The troupe is performing the second act. We saw the first act last spring at the Saint-Germain Fair,” Lisette said.
“Yes, I remember. It was a clever play. Another day perhaps. We are going to the Tuileries today.” Her mother had a tone of finality. She gestured toward the stairs in the hall.
Lisette stepped out first, followed by her younger brother and finally their mother who locked the door behind them. When they reached the street, Lisette stopped to wait for a carriage.
Her mother continued walking.
“Aren’t we hailing a carriage?” Lisette asked her mother.
“We are walking. It will do us good to take in the air,” Jeanne replied.
Lisette suspected otherwise. Like everything else related to their finances, her mother was too embarrassed to be honest with her.
They walked briskly down the Rue de Coquillière toward the Rue Saint-Honoré, which would lead them to the Palais des Tuileries. Lisette’s feet seared with pain as she navigated the stones, mud and refuse in the road. They had to cross many more streets before reaching the Tuileries. Then they would walk some more. Lisette wanted to slow down.
“Mother, can’t we slow our pace? Why are we walking so fast?”
Jeanne didn’t answer her. She continued at the same clip. Her mother appeared animal-like in her determination to reach the gardens.
“Mother, look at poor Etienne. He can’t keep up.” Lisette thought that if her mother wouldn’t slow down for her, maybe she would for her favorite.
“We can’t be late,” Jeanne said, refusing to reduce her break-neck pace. Lisette had guessed wrong.
As they turned onto the Rue Saint-Nicaise and the Tuileries came into view, Jeanne moved faster.
Are we meeting somebody? Lisette wondered. Who could be this important? she thought.
Once they entered the grounds of the palace, Jeanne turned in the direction opposite the gardens. They were now headed toward the Place du Carrousel, the courtyard in front of the palace entrance. Lisette watched her mother scan the immediate area.
“I hope he shows. He said to meet over there.” Jeanne pointed toward a small, temporary pavilion erected in the corner of the courtyard. “Let’s go,” Jeanne said as she darted off toward the building.
Lisette and Etienne followed, but they couldn’t catch up to their mother. The blisters on Lisette’s feet made it very difficult for her to walk at all, let alone quickly. Etienne complained to Lisette about his cramped toes. Lisette feared that they might spasm if he didn’t sit and rest.
“Mother, please wait for us,” Lisette called out to Jeanne. Her mother continued marching toward the pavilion, never looking back at her children.
They tried to reach her, but Etienne soon tripped and fell to the ground.
“Mother! Etienne has fallen!” Lisette yelled.
Jeanne stopped and turned around. She walked back and held out her hand to Etienne.
“Mother, my knee hurts,” Etienne said as he clutched his right knee. He had torn his silk stockings and his culottes were scuffed at the knee.
“Get up,” Jeanne said. She turned toward the pavilion.
“I can’t,” Etienne groaned.
Lisette gingerly pushed up his right culottes to inspect the injury. She saw a bump on his knee that was beginning to swell. “Mother, I think he has hurt himself badly. We should go home,” Lisette said.
“I have to meet someone very important in the pavilion and I can’t be late. You two make your way there. Lisette, you stay behind and help him.” Jeanne rushed off.
By the time Lisette had raised her brother off of the ground, their mother was nowhere in sight. Lisette scanned the crowd. She didn’t see her mother, but a strange couple caught her attention. An unusually tall, well-dressed man was talking to a servant woman. Their interaction somehow seemed nefarious to Lisette. They were partially hidden behind a large oak tree, but Lisette could see most of their bodies and faces. I have seen that man before, she thought. But where? she wondered.
Lisette carefully watched the man and the woman. After exchanging a few words, she saw the woman put her hand in the man’s waistcoat pocket, slipping a bundle of cloth into it. Lisette couldn’t be sure what she had seen. The man glanced up to see if anyone was watching and Lisette quickly looked down at the ground. When she raised her head again, they were both gone. How strange, she thought.
“We should find Mother,” Etienne said as he tried to walk on his own.
“You can lean on me and we can take our time,” Lisette said.
With Etienne holding onto Lisette’s arm, they started walking in the direction of the pavilion. As they approached the temporary structure, the crowds in the Place du Carrousel grew thicker. There were vendors renting chairs and selling a variety of treats including lemonade, brandy, ices, pastries and fruit. Lisette surveyed the mix of people. She spotted noble men and women, merchants and their wives, laborers and apprentices, all relaxing on a Sunday afternoon. The air was fragrant with the smell of fashionable women’s nosegays and perfumed hair powders. Lisette knew that this mélange of people also included prostitutes and thieves. She had heard many tales of how pickpockets and harlots were attracted to crowded public spaces like the Palais Royal, the food market at Les Halles and the Tuileries. Lisette held Etienne a little tighter.
“Lisette, you are hurting me,” Etienne yelped.
She loosened her hold on him. “I’m sorry. I only want to keep you safe.”
Lisette remained vigilant as they walked. Like she had promised her brother, they kept a very leisurely pace. Etienne never once complained as they slowly made their way to the pavilion.
“We are nearly there,” Lisette said as she gently squeezed her brother’s hand to comfort him.
Lisette and Etienne continued walking until they were just outside the pavilion.
She stooped to check Etienne’s leg. “How is your knee?” she asked him.
“It hurts, but it will mend,” he said bravely.
Lisette noticed that the swelling had increased. Etienne needed to sit down and rest his leg.
“Let’s find Mother, get a few sous from her and hail a cabriolet home. You have no business promenading today.”
Still leaning on Lisette, Etienne hobbled the last few steps into the pavilion. Once inside, Lisette saw ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finery. The women displayed elaborate coiffures and gowns while the men showcased expensive waistcoats and mahogany, gold-knobbed canes. Some women carried bejeweled fans, while others held little dogs.
“Lisette, look over by the Duchesse, there is Mother,” Etienne said.
Lisette recognized the Duchesse de Chartres too. She could be found promenading in the Tuileries most afternoons and always on Sunday. She was married to the Duc de Chartres, who was a near cousin of the King. All of Paris wanted to be near her. Being married to a prince of royal lineage, she was usually the highest born aristocrat at the Tuileries. She was also the most fashionable. All of the women wanted to look like her and often did. No one in Lisette’s family had ever been included in
a conversation with the Duchesse. They were not important enough. Why is Mother talking with her now? Lisette wondered.
She looked closer. Her mother was deeply engaged with the Duchesse de Chartres and….the tall man that Lisette had just seen with the servant woman. Each time the man spoke, Lisette’s mother and the Duchesse threw their heads back and laughed. Both of the women seemed to be captivated by this man and whatever he was saying to them. Lisette studied the man’s face. I’ve seen him before today, she thought. Then she remembered. Lisette recognized him as not only the same man that had acted strangely with the female servant behind the oak tree moments earlier, but he was also the man that had been comforting her mother at her papa’s funeral. Lisette felt like she was completing a puzzle, but only a few of the pieces were falling into place.
Leaving Etienne resting on a chair, Lisette walked over to where they stood. Her mother appeared happy to see her. “Lisette, come meet the Duchesse and Monsieur Le Sèvre.”
The Duchesse scanned Lisette from head to toe, pausing at her shoes. Saying nothing to Lisette, the Duchesse seemed uninterested in meeting a bourgeois girl with worn out shoes. Lisette knew that nobles were within their right to behave in that manner with those who were lower born, but she didn’t like it. Lisette felt that she deserved respect no matter how tattered her shoes.
Monsieur Le Sèvre spoke up, “Pleased to meet you.”
Lisette held out her hand and allowed him to kiss it. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. His face was pleasant with steel gray eyes that imbued a sense of confidence and strength. His clothes contributed to his distinguished air. He wore a long coat of pale blue with prominent silver buttons, an embroidered silk vest of the same blue and burgundy-colored culottes. He was not wearing a wig, but his hair was powdered white, pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. Lisette thought he could have passed for a nobleman in his fashionable costume. She often saw highborn men dressed similarly every Sunday when they promenaded in the Tuileries.
“You are as lovely as your mother described you, Lisette.” He looked over to Jeanne as he said this.
“Le Sèvre, when will you have the Turkish jewels ready for me to view?” the Duchesse asked him, continuing to ignore Lisette.
Le Sèvre immediately turned away from Lisette and addressed the Duchesse. “I suspect in three days. I will send a messenger in advance of my arrival.”
“I will want to examine them in my salon in the late morning. That is when the light is best,” she said.
Le Sèvre nodded and the Duchesse walked away. Before Le Sèvre could return his attention to Lisette and Jeanne, another noblewoman approached him.
“Good afternoon, Marquise,” Le Sèvre said as he bowed to the highborn woman.
“Le Sèvre, I heard that you have a new shipment of jewels coming from the Ottoman Empire…is that true?” the Marquise asked.
Lisette regarded the woman. She wore a dusty rose-colored silk gown with an apron of embroidered muslin and held a bamboo walking cane. Peeking out from underneath the Marquise’s skirts, Lisette noticed the tips of her silk shoes perfectly matched the pink of her dress. The Marquise smelled beautiful too. She was a walking garden of blooming spring flowers and ripe oranges.
Le Sèvre responded, “Only for you, Marquise. You know you are my foremost client…I save the best for my favorites,” he said, kissing her hand.
The Marquise blushed as he flattered her.
As soon as she had walked away Le Sèvre turned to Jeanne and Lisette. “Shall we walk around the gardens? Their natural beauty will edify us.” He held out his arm for Jeanne to take. Then he leaned in close to Jeanne and whispered loudly, “But nothing compares to your magnificence, my darling. I could gaze upon your exquisite face forever.”
Jeanne was beaming.
“Mother, Etienne and I are going home. He needs to rest.” Lisette could finally get a word with her mother.
“You two can leave. I am going to walk in the gardens with Monsieur Le Sèvre. I will be home by dusk,” Jeanne said. Then she muttered a few words in Le Sèvre’s ear. He moved a few steps away, giving Lisette and her mother privacy.
Jeanne faced Lisette. “Did you see that I was talking to the Duchesse de Chartres?” Jeanne asked. Her mother was giddy like a young girl.
Lisette nodded. Jeanne seemed to have overlooked the Duchesse’s dismissive behavior.
“She is one of Le Sèvre’s best clients. He has known her for years. He has many noble clients, just like her. You’ll see, Lisette, he is going to introduce us to many important people. We are rising in the world.”
Lisette was confused. Why were they suddenly going to be spending so much time with Le Sèvre and his noble clients?
Her mother looked at Le Sèvre and smiled broadly. It was the kind of smile that Lisette hadn’t seen on her mother’s face since before her papa died.
Never taking her eyes off of Le Sèvre, Jeanne said, “Lisette, Monsieur Le Sèvre has asked me to marry him…and I’ve accepted.”
Chapter Eight
October 27, 1772
Lisette held her cloak tight around her shoulders with her free hand. The other was carrying her canvas, The Death of Caesar. As she walked, Lisette thought about her mother. It had been weeks since Jeanne had announced her wedding. Lisette was still reeling from the news. How could Mother get married? Lisette wondered. Her papa had only left this world months ago. She can’t, Lisette thought. I cannot accept it.
Carefully, Lisette made her way down her street, the Rue de Coquillière. She moved quickly, skillfully dodging the many piles of black muck scattered throughout the streets. The dark filth was a foul mixture of animal dung and particles of iron that had flaked off carriage wheels. Lisette knew that if the bottom of her skirts grazed the muck, they would be forever stained pitch black. As she turned onto the Rue du Four, toward Les Halles, she tried not to breathe too deeply. The water flowing onto the street from the domestic kitchens was enough to induce nausea, if not vomit. She navigated around the puddles created by this putrid water.
Lisette then followed the Rue Saint-Honoré, one of the widest streets in Paris, until she had crossed over the Rue Saint Denis and was on Rue des Lombards. As she made her way past the Cimetière des Innocents, she held her breath for as long as she was able. Lisette had heard that the fumes emanating from the decomposing bodies were dangerous. The cemetery had been overcrowded with too many souls for many years. The overwhelming number of dead bodies had created an uneven landscape with prominent bulges of corpses that had been buried beneath a too-thin layer of earth.
When Lisette reached the Rue Saint Martin, she turned toward the river Seine and the Pont Notre-Dame, where Le Brun’s shop was located. As she drew closer to the Quai Pelletier and the Pont Notre-Dame, her progress was abruptly slowed. What is happening? she thought. Then she heard the bells of St-Gervais-et-St-Protais Church tolling.
Only a few streets over, Lisette realized that she was passing near the Place de Grève. People had filled the square and were spilling out onto the street. There must be an execution today, she thought, or at least a public flogging. Deeming them unnecessarily cruel, Lisette had never desired to watch public punishments or executions. She continued toward the Quai as there was no need to enter the Place de Grève.
As Lisette walked past the people milling around waiting for the execution to begin, she overheard two women talking. Lisette determined from their appearance that they were servants of a great house. The young women both wore fine cotton dresses, aprons and linen caps. The dresses had a worn look, as if they had been passed down to the servants from their mistress. It was well-known that loyal and obedient servants often received their masters’ old clothes when they no longer had use for them.
“Dreadful business about the mistress’ daughter,” one of the women said. She spoke with an accent that betrayed her provincial origins.
“I heard that she is innocent…set up by her betrothed,” her companion said. She
held a basket full of vegetables.
“He was the one who had her arrested?”
“Yes, and now she’ll be flogged, branded and then banished from France.”
“What were the charges?”
“Heresy. The betrothed would not stand for having a wife that outshone him in any way. He never approved of her writings or of her associations with the philosophes. I heard our mistress declare her daughter’s innocence with my own ears.”
“So then she didn’t commit heresy?”
The woman holding the vegetables shook her head. “Not according to what I overheard. Our mistress plead with the Lieutenant Général de Police, Antoine de Sartine, to spare her daughter but he would not budge. Apparently the betrothed’s father had already intervened.”
“Such a shame. Now she will never become a wife or be the mistress of her own house.”
The woman with the basket clucked in agreement.
A woman punished for writing? Betrayed by her betrothed? Lisette suddenly had an interest in public punishment. She pushed her way through the masses until she caught a glimpse of the center of the square. Lisette stopped moving and looked up to get a better view of the pillory. The pillory in the Place de Grève was placed high enough for everyone in the square to see the criminals confined to its platform.
Lisette saw a man and a woman, each standing with their hands and heads poking out of the holes in the wooden boards that held them. The condemned were both wearing placards that hung around their necks. The large board hanging around the man’s neck said, “Distribution of Counterfeit Coins” while the one around the woman’s neck read, “Heresy.” Lisette caught a glimpse of the accused woman’s face. She looked defeated and tired, undoubtedly from the multitude of floggings she had already received. Has her spirit been broken? Lisette wondered. She wanted to walk away and push this condemned woman far from her mind, but she couldn’t avert her gaze. The woman’s anguish somehow felt familiar to her. As Lisette stood watching, she heard a man next to her talking.
“They’ll be starting the whipping in a few minutes,” the man said.
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