The Ghost of Monsieur Scarron

Five

85 Five Monsieur found his wife writing letters. at her feet was a basket of honey-colored Spaniel puppies. about her shoulders, over her dressing gown, was an old fur pelerine which she had brought with her years ago, at the time of their marriage, from the Palatinate. her hair, uncovered, had not yet been arranged for the day. She wore no paint or powder on her face—but she never did. every freckle and pockmark and wrinkle showed as plainly as God intended it to. a short, thick-set old woman, more stocky than fat, for she exercised daily, she greeted Monsieur without comment, returning, for his elaborate reverence, a look of frank inquiry. She had not expected a visit from Monsieur, but if she had, she would not have changed her routine in any respect. the windows were wide open, the room full of damp air. Monsieur shivered, but made no motion to close the windows. he did not intend to remain there long. Beside his wife’s writing case stood a silver tray on which her breakfast had been brought her from the Commons. Monsieur looked it over and did not see what he was looking for. he observed, with skillful casualness: “theKingreceivedapamphletwithhisbroththismorning.” “indeed?” said Madame. “was it the same as this?” She lifted a sheet of paper and took up a copy of Monsieur Scarron Apparu à Madame de Maintenon. She offered it 86 Janet Lewis to Monsieur in her small, firm, freckled hand, and Monsieur leaned toward it long enough to verify the title. “if you care to read it,” said his wife, “it is yours.” “thank you,” said Monsieur. “if you received one with your petit déjeuner, i shall probably receive one too.” “it was in my napkin,” she said, “as you imagined. Do you imagine also a general prevalence of pamphlets this morning?” Monsieur smiled. “Since you and the King have been favored, why not all the family?” “la reine Scarronique,” said Madame, taking up her pen, “will be interested.” She knew that the visit was over. She dipped her pen in the ink and considered her interrupted letter. Monsieur, withdrawing, gauged the extent of his wife’s good humor by the term with which she referred to her enemy. She had a vast number of other titles in two languages , less kind and less decorous. he envied her invention and her vocabulary. the King sat in Council that morning the usual three hours. on the stroke of twelve he entered the Salle des Glaces and proceeded through it to Mass in his chapel, followed by most of his court. after Mass he dined in the Salle du Grand Couvert, and then, since the day was Monday, he remained there for another hour to receive petitions from anyone in the land, high or low, who cared to petition him. after that he retired to his bedroom, where he changed to hunting clothes—coat, boots, hat, wig, everything. Bontemps, receiving the King’s coat of that morning, removed from its pockets the King’s handkerchief, a fistful of holy medals, and the libelous pamphlet. the King, seeing the pamphlet, said, “Give it to me,” and thrust it into the pocket of his hunting coat, with the intention of turning it over to Monsieur de Pontchartrain . his mind was full of the business discussed at Council. 87 T H E G H O S T O F M O N S I E U R S C A R R O N the pamphlet had become a trifling irritation which he forgot for the next few hours. la violette had promised the King good sport, and he kept his promise. the birds rose often, the King shot and never missed. But several times he felt a dizziness which forced him to lower his gun, as he was about to take aim, and wait before he could again lift it to his shoulder. the sun was still shining, the birds still rising, when the King left the field, a little before six o’clock, and went, still in his hunting clothes, to the apartment of Madame de Maintenon. he was greatly fatigued. he entered the apartment unannounced, earlier than was his custom, and found the mistress of it seated in her sheltered corner between the bed and the fireplace. it had not occurred to him that she would not be there and ready to...