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the sentiments he was expressing.
    ‘The King,’ he wrote, ‘and his people are bound together by ties of mutual obligation. The people undertake to render to the King respect, obedience, succour, service and to speak that which is true. The King promises his people vigilance, protection, peace, justice and the maintenance of an equable and unclouded disposition.’
    It was all very boring, and it was small wonder that his attention strayed.
    Suddenly he began to chuckle. Papa Villeroi thinks Uncle Philippe is trying to poison me! he told himself.
    It seemed indescribably funny; one of those wild adventures which took place in the imagination and which he and Calvière liked to construct; it was like a game; it must be a game. He wondered if Uncle Philippe knew.

    It was impossible not to be aware of the awe which he, a ten-year-old boy, was able to inspire in those about him. There was not one of these dignified men of his household or of the Regency Council who did not take great pains to propitiate him. This afforded the King secret amusement, but he was intelligent enough not to overestimate his power. He knew that in small matters he might have his way, but in the larger issues – as he had seen at the time of his parting with Madame de Ventadour – these important men about him would make the final decision.
    He had enjoyed watching, with Calvière, the feud between his uncle Philippe and his governor Villeroi. The two boys entered into the game. When they were alone, Calvière would leap forward whenever Louis was about to eat anything, snatch it from him, eat a piece, and either pretend to drop dead at the King’s feet or declare: ‘All is well. We have foiled the poisoners this time, Sire.’
    Sometimes Louis played the page. It added variety to the game.
    The Duc d’Orléans noticed the secret amusement of the boys, the looks which passed between them, and he knew that he and Villeroi were the cause of them.
    Orléans wondered then what Villeroi had hinted to Louis. It could have been nothing blatantly detrimental, for Louis was as affectionate as ever towards him. But Villeroi had conveyed something, and Orléans was doubly on the alert, and was determined to take the little King out of the care of Villeroi as much as possible. Villeroi in his turn was aware of the additional alertness in the attitude of Orléans, so he increased his watchfulness.
    Villeroi was determined to make another Grand Monarque of his charge. Often, instead of the handsome little boy, he saw the handsome King. He wanted young Louis to follow slavishly in his great-grandfather’s footsteps.
    The boy must perform a ballet, for Louis Quatorze had excelled at the ballet. Everyone declared that the child’s dancing reminded them so much of great Louis that it was as though he lived again in his great-grandson. That delighted Villeroi.
    The child must meet the people on every possible occasion. When the cheers and cries of ‘ Vive notre petit Roi ’ echoed in his ears, Villeroi declared he was supremely happy. He insisted that his little charge ride with him through the streets of Paris and appear frequently on the balconies.
    Often in his dreams Louis heard the shouts of the people and saw faces which took on a nightmare quality. The shouts grew raucous and threatening; the faces savage and inhuman.
    He would protest that there were so many public displays. ‘But you must love the people as they love you,’ Villeroi told him. He loved some people – Maman Ventadour, Uncle Philippe, Papa Villeroi, and many others; but they did not stare and shout at him.
    ‘Papa Villeroi,’ he said, ‘let us go to Versailles. I do not like Paris. There are so many people.’
    ‘Some day . . . some day . . .’ Villeroi told him.
    And Louis would grow wistful thinking of Versailles, that fairytale château which had seemed to him full of a hundred delights, and in which he could shut himself away from the shouting people.
    Philippe, eager to wean