The Nicolas Le Floch affair
Page 37
‘I’ll be brief,’ he said. ‘The King has appointed me Minister for the Navy, to succeed Monsieur Turgot who’s been made Comptroller General. My place will be taken by Monsieur Lenoir, whose name I myself put forward as my successor. The Duc de Chalabre is renting me a house nearby, in his gardens: you will always be welcome. I have to go to Versailles forthwith. I hardly have time to tell you all I’m feeling …’
He snapped the clasp of one of the boxes several times.
‘… or to tell you … Well, anyway, I’ve recommended you to my successor. Go and see him immediately: the first hours are crucial, and those who do not push themselves forward then are ignored forever after. It is too early for me to consider finding you a job with me at the Ministry of the Navy, for the moment at least. That doesn’t in any way mean that I won’t call for you one day. Of course I shall. Goodbye, my friend.’
And he went back to packing his wigs and taking the servants to task for their clumsiness. Nicolas withdrew, stunned, amidst the general hustle and bustle. Thus, in a few seconds, a working relationship begun fourteen years earlier had come to an end. He appreciated Sartine’s restrained emotion. Whether it was equal to all the devotion, fidelity and loyalty he had shown the Lieutenant General over the years, through many trials and tribulations – of that he was not entirely convinced. He decided not to go to the Châtelet: there was nothing urgent he had to do there. Much better to give himself a day to reflect. He would go home and spend the hours reading in Monsieur de Noblecourt’s library, thus escaping the late summer storm that was threatening Paris. The day would be heavy, like the weight that burdened his heart.
He knew only too well what was going to happen. He was already ‘old Court’, as La Borde had put it. A policeman known to be loyal to the late King, forever marked, whatever had happened, by the stigma of an affair which had leaked out to the outside world, but of which respectable people knew only one side, without any inkling of the hidden mysteries, Nicolas did not rate the chances of his career continuing. His former position with Sartine, now ensconced in ministerial glory, would not count for much, and he would be made to feel a hundredfold the acrimony of having been his ally, even though he had been careful not to abuse his power and influence. The services he had rendered, he knew, aroused more ingratitude than gratitude. As for Monsieur Lenoir, would he wish to keep him in that unusual role, with responsibility for special investigations? At best, Nicolas would be placed under observation before his fate was decided. At worst, he would be shunted aside and confined to minor tasks. His loyalty to Sartine would be of no account and would even be considered a flaw and a disadvantage.
When he reached Rue Montmartre, he found a carriage and horses waiting at the entrance. The sweaty, red-faced coachman had taken his coat off and was drinking chilled cider served by Catherine. The baker’s boys stood around, merrily chatting away about this extraordinary event. The oldest of them told him, with much mirth, that they had all lent a hand heaving a fat lady upstairs. Her face, the boy said, was smothered in make-up, patches of which fell off like the floury crust from a cob loaf. His curiosity aroused, Nicolas ran up to Monsieur de Noblecourt’s apartment. He stopped outside the door of the drawing room, surprised by a rasping voice that he knew well.
‘This beverage, Monsieur, is so smooth!’
‘Smooth?’ said Monsieur de Noblecourt, anxiously.
‘Oh, yes! It flows into the gullet with a smoothness that reminds me of an old ratafia our Nicolas used to love. And these spicy lemon buns! They’re so soft! I should tell you I have something of a sweet tooth!’
Nicolas risked a glance through the half-open door. He saw La Paulet, a mass of violet satin and purple ribbons, slumped in a bergère, her flesh overflowing the sides. Her face, as covered with ceruse as ever, the cheekbones spotted with rouge, had gained a kind of dignity and calm, doubtless as a result of her services to the poor, to whom, in spite of her infirmities, she now devoted herself. Monsieur de Noblecourt – with Mouchette sleeping on his lap and Cyrus at his feet – sat there in a black coat and a large Regency wig, playing the role of a father confessor with that air of polite affability that hid his ever-alert, ever-keen mind.
‘Madame,’ he said, ‘to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’
‘You’re so understanding, Monsieur. Just think, I really dithered about coming to see you. I actually had to force myself. “Go on, old thing,” I said to myself, “where’s the harm in talking to this gentleman Nicolas has told you so much about?” I was worried sick wondering if you would agree to receive a former brothel-keeper. Just think, you a procurator! Well, here goes. I’ve entrusted the care of my house, the Dauphin Couronné, to one of my former residents, La Satin. What I should tell you is that many moons ago—’
‘Nicolas’s friend.’
‘Oh, you know everything! I like it better that way. There’s always been a little something between them …’
‘A little something?’
‘Yes, you know, a feeling, a passion that comes back every now and again. I’ve retired to Auteuil, you see, but whenever I have something big on, I get one of the maids to come over from Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré to help my cook. She’s a nice girl, this maid, and very talkative. Thanks to her, I stay up to date with what’s happening in my establishment. She told me that our Nicolas met a young man there. The way he reacted shows that he must have been struck by the young man’s resemblance to himself. And that must have started him wondering. La Satin found out, and now the poor girl is sick with worry.’
‘He’s their son.’
‘That’s right! Louis, his name is. She always hid it from him, out of respect, and a sense of tact. I mean, how could you have a relationship between a commissioner – a marquis, they say – and a lady of easy virtue? The child has been very well brought up, educated by monks and all that! He’ll be all ready for a good career.’
Nicolas did not listen to the rest of the conversation. His heart was pounding and a wave of joy swept over him. Nothing else mattered any longer. He had lost his old King, Monsieur de Sartine was flying off to high places, and his own future was looking grim. It was likely that he would encounter a great deal of bitterness and resentment. Despicable sycophants, who had wormed their way into Court and were pushing themselves forward through intrigues, would do everything they could to humiliate him and drive home the loss of his protectors and influence. But what did it matter? Something else was weighing in the scales of his destiny now. Just a few yards from where he stood, La Paulet was singing his son’s praises. What more precious gift could fate offer him? Life, like the boundless ocean he had contemplated as a child from the beach at Batz, took away and gave back. Anguish and sadness abandoned him like the water receding from the shore before the twelfth wave, the one that carries everything away. Just when luck seemed to have deserted him, he had been given a son.
La Marsa, June 2001–May 2002
NOTES
CHAPTER 1
1. The barracks of the Regiment of Musketeers were situated on the corner of Rue de Verneuil.
2. Françoise Marie Saucerotte, known as Mademoiselle Raucourt (1756–1815): actress at the Théâtre-Français.
3. A Brazilian tribe.
CHAPTER 2
1. Mansion rented by Monsieur de Sartine and used as police headquarters.
2. See The Man with the Lead Stomach.
CHAPTER 3
1. A building in which costumes and sets from Court celebrations were stored.
2. A fashionable tavern in the outlying district of La Courtille.
CHAPTER 4
1. See The Phantom of Rue Royale.
2. Marc-Antoine Laugier (1713–1769), a Jesuit, later a Benedictine. He was a diplomat and the author of works on art including Essai sur l’architecture.
3. This facelift was eventually carried out in 1779 during the hundred weddings celebrated in Notre Dame on the occasion of the birth of Madame Royale, the first child of Louis XVI and Marie-Ant
oinette.
4. See The Phantom of Rue Royale.
CHAPTER 5
1. Madame de Pompadour.
2. See The Man with the Lead Stomach.
3. Madame du Barry had a house here.
4. One of the nicknames given by pamphleteers of the time to Madame du Barry.
CHAPTER 6
1. Popular card game of the period.
CHAPTER 7
1. This magistrate, Monsieur Vermeil, in fact proposed this form of torture in 1781.
2. Henri Louis Duhamel du Monceau, French physiologist, agronomist and general inspector of the navy (1700–1782).
3. A plant-derived remedy recommended by Homer for combating sadness.
CHAPTER 8
1. See The Châtelet Apprentice.
2. The modernity of the institution of the Farmers General during the ancien régime is still quite striking.
3. The Comptroller of Finances, responsible for the State’s coffers.
4. This experiment with a diving suit is a real historical event. It took place on 20 January 1774 beneath the Pont Royal, in the presence of a commission from the Academy of Sciences.
5. See The Châtelet Apprentice.
CHAPTER 9
1. An oblong beetle, green and gold in colour. Its dried powder was used externally as a vesicatory, and, in pastille form, as an aphrodisiac with remarkable health benefits.
CHAPTER 10
1. The King presided over the going-to-bed ceremony in the show bedchamber, then went to his real bedchamber a few rooms away, which was where he actually slept.
2. Arab doctor and surgeon, also known by the name Abulcasis (936–1013).
3. The same debate on the expulsion of the then mistress, the Duchesse de Châteauroux, had caused a scandal during the King’s illness at Metz in 1742.
4. It was reported that Madame du Barry had introduced a young girl into the King’s bed and that it was she who had given Louis XV smallpox.
CHAPTER 11
1. See The Châtelet Apprentice.
2. This is a real incident which became widely known and caused much mirth amongst Parisians.
3. Lunch was usually eaten at about eleven o’clock in the morning.
CHAPTER 13
1. Colour blindness was scientifically demonstrated by the English doctor and physicist Dalton a few years later, in 1791.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
First, I wish to express my gratitude to Isabelle Tujague for her competence, care and patience in preparing the final version of the text. I am also grateful to Monique Constant, Conservateur Général du Patrimoine, for her encouragement and her research into the period. Once again I am indebted to Maurice Roisse for his intelligent and detailed checking of the manuscript and for his helpful suggestions. Finally, I wish to thank my publisher for the confidence he has shown in this fourth book in the series.
Also by Jean-François Parot
The Châtelet Apprentice
The Man with the Lead Stomach
The Phantom of Rue Royale
About the Author
Jean-François Parot is a diplomat and historian. His Nicolas Le Floch mysteries have been published to much acclaim in French. The first three novels in the series, The Châtelet Apprentice, The Man with the Lead Stomach and The Phantom of Rue Royale, were enthusiastically reviewed on publication in English.
Howard Curtis’s many translations from French and Italian include five novels by Jean-Claude Izzo, four by Marek Halter and three by Gianrico Carofiglio, as well as works by Balzac, Flaubert and Pirandello.
Copyright
First published in 2009
by Gallic Books, Worlds End Studios, 134 Lots Road, London,
SW10 ORJ
This ebook edition first published in 2011
All rights reserved
© Jean-François Parot, 2009
The right of Jean-François Parot to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
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ISBN 9781906040550
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