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book before him.
    ‘You like people to think you read serious books,’ the King said smiling, ‘far better than you like reading them. Why, my son, you are even lazier than I am!’
    This was disconcerting, especially as there was an element of truth in the remark.
    But the Dauphin knew what he wanted. He wanted to form a court in which the utmost decorum was practised. Such people as the treacherous Richelieu could have no place in his court. If men had mistresses, no one should know about it, although the Dauphin deeply deplored the fact that any man should take a mistress.
    He had been very fortunate in his wives. Both had been physically unattractive women but what they lacked in beauty they made up for by their devotion to duty. Bitterly he had mourned the death of his first, Marie-Thérèse-Raphaëlle, who had died in childbirth after two years of marriage; but Marie-Josèphe of Saxony, his present wife, was as virtuous as her predecessor. She was now pregnant and he had great hopes that she would present him with a son this time. Her first child had been a girl, but they felt that they, both deeply conscious of their duty to the State, would have many children.
    When his sisters, Anne-Henriette and Adelaide, arrived, the Dauphin and Dauphine greeted them with the utmost affection. They had decided that while the approval of the Queen could help them very little, these two girls could be very important to their schemes.
    The King had a great affection for his daughters and it pleased the Dauphin to make use of them as spies who were welcomed into the other camp.
    ‘My dearest sister,’ murmured the Dauphin, ‘I pray you sit beside me and tell me your news.’
    Adelaide was loquacious as usual, Anne-Henriette silent. The latter seemed more fragile than ever beside the Dauphin. It was as though she still hankered after Charles Edward Stuart, which was foolish of her. Yet, thought the Dauphin, her listlessness was to his advantage. She was ready to do and say all that was asked of her, because she did not seem to care what happened to her.
    In his two sisters he had two allies, and for two entirely different reasons; the diffidence of Anne-Henriette and Adelaide’s love of intrigue were equally advantageous to the Dauphin’s party. And it was odd that their great love of their father enabled him to use them to work against him. The fact was that these two Princesses were above all jealous of Madame de Pompadour’s influence with their beloved father.
    ‘Maman Catin grows more unhealthy every day,’ Adelaide told him delightedly. ‘I am sure she cannot live long. Oh, what a good thing it would be for France and the King if she were dead! I cannot think why – since so much good could come of it – someone does not . . .’
    The Dauphin laid a hand on her arm. ‘You are overheard. Be careful what you say.’
    ‘What do I care!’ cried Adelaide. ‘I say what I mean.’
    ‘If anything should happen to her, and it was remembered that you had uttered such words . . .’
    ‘Our father would never blame me for anything.’
    ‘You are becoming too excited, Adelaide,’ said Anne-Henriette soothingly.
    ‘What our father needs, since he must have mistresses, is a new one every night. The next morning they should be decapitated.’
    ‘What our father needs,’ said the Dauphin reprovingly, ‘is to return the affection of the Queen and live with her honourably as befits his state.’
    Anne-Henriette nodded; and at that moment the Curé of Saint Etienne-du-Mont was brought to the Dauphin and introduced to him. The Dauphin received him with pleasure, for this man, who was a canon of Sainte Génévieve, had already made a name for himself by refusing the sacrament to Jansenites. Fearlessly he had proclaimed his Ultramontane opinions and had been on the verge of arrest, which could have resulted in imprisonment and deprivation of his office; but there were powerful men of the Church to uphold such as he, and the