The King is Dead, Long Live the King!
The dark alleys of the old city, usually bustling at midday, were now shrouded in a foggy haze.The empty streets aside, it seemed the city was still awake, even in the dead of night. Occasionally, faint whispers could be heard in the damp, cool air, all discussing the same thing – the news that had haunted Paris, and indeed all of France, for a few days now.
Sitting on the edge of a wide bed, in the centre of a dark room, was a woman; she was clutching onto a baby peacefully sleeping in her arms and listening intently to the soft patter of the autumn rain against the window pane, humming an old French lullaby.
Every now and then, she would brush away the tears glistening on her lashes. Her thoughts were consumed by the sweet memories of last summer: the Sunday picnics and the lofty conversations about art in the shade of the lush, green trees along river Loire. She had loved spending hours in casual conversations with her husband, playing with their young son, boating, and basking in the sun's warm embrace. She had tried not to think about that day when the summer would inevitably draw to a close and they would have to return to Paris—a dusty city reeking of foul odors, and full of soulless and treacherous people trying to get their neighbor, entangled in court intrigues or conspiracies.
By day, Paris was a vibrant circus, teeming with greedy, dishonest, and perpetually dissatisfied characters. But after sunset, France's capital transformed into a terrifying 1
labyrinth ruled by street urchins, thieves, courtesans, and eccentric adventurers in powdered wigs and garish attire.
The sudden noise of an approaching horse outside the window made the woman startle.
She pushed aside her gloomy thoughts and returned to reality—a crammed room in an old, inconspicuous house near Rue Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois.
"Madame, do you hear that? The riders!" whispered the maid, Leonie, suddenly appearing at the bedroom door, her voice trembling with fear.
"Quiet, Leonie," the woman ordered, gesturing for the maid to come closer. "Why aren't you asleep?" she whispered, noticing the genuine fear in the grey eyes of the girl.
"How can I sleep when the King is dying? Oh, Madame, it's terrifying! There are rumors that he hasn't got long left and plans are being made for what will happen to Versailles after his death. They also fear a popular uprising," Leonie babbled, sinking onto the edge of the bed beside her mistress. "All of Paris is gossiping about it. And they say a messenger arrived at the Louvre today from Versailles with some news…"
"Let's hope it's just the idle chatter of court jesters who have nothing better to do," the woman interrupted, forcing a soft smile. "The Louvre cannot exist without gossip and intrigue. You know that as well as I do, Leonie."
"Madame, do you hear that? Outside! By our house!"
The woman, now thoroughly alarmed, clicked her tongue disapprovingly at the maid and peered out into the dimly lit street. She noticed a shadow move outside. A moment later, there was a firm knock at the door. Leonie jumped up in surprise and, biting her lip, stared at her mistress.
"Madame…"
"Take Armand and stay here until I call for you."
The lady gently placed the sleeping baby in the maid's trembling hands, smoothed out the folds of her dress, and headed toward the front door, behind which the impatient stomping of horses could be heard. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, she pushed open the door, letting in a faint stream of cool night air. Outside, a tall man stood with his back to her, trying to calm his horse which kept rearing up.
