And to this Orléans replied: ‘That is my wish, Madame.’

‘Then I pray you follow me.’

When Louis saw his uncle he was ready to leap into his arms, but Philippe held up his hand to warn the boy that this was one of those occasions when ceremony must be observed.

Then Madame de Ventadour said in a voice broken with emotion: ‘Monseigneur, here is my charge who was entrusted to me by King Louis XIV. I have cared for him to the very best of my ability and I now give him to you in perfect health.’

Philippe sank to his knees then, while Louis looked in bewilderment from his uncle to his dear Maman Ventadour.

‘Sire,’ said Philippe. ‘I hope you will never forget all that this lady has done for you. When you were very little she saved your life, and since then she has cared for you as devotedly as though she were your mother.’

Louis nodded. He was searching for words to ask what this meant, but he could not find them. A strange feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him that he was very frightened.

At that moment three men entered the room; one was the Duc du Maine whom he called uncle and of whom he was fond; the others were the Duc de Villeroi and André Hercule de Fleury.

‘Sire,’ said Philippe, ‘you are no longer a child and must devote yourself to serious matters; you must begin to prepare yourself for your great destiny. To help you in this, here are the Duc de Maine who will superintend your education, Monsieur de Fleury, Bishop of Fréjus, who will be your tutor, and the Duc de Villeroi who will be your Governor.’

Louis looked at the three men stonily. ‘And Maman Ventadour?’ he asked.

‘Sire, she will always be your friend, but you will cease to live with her and will have your own household.’

Louis stamped his foot. ‘I want Maman Ventadour,’ he cried.

Madame de Ventadour knelt beside him and embraced him; she felt herself held in a firm, hot clasp. ‘Listen, my dearest,’ she said, ‘it is merely that you will have your own household. I shall come to see you.’

‘But I do not want them,’ he whispered. ‘I want you, Maman.’

The three men were trying not to look at him; Philippe went on as though the King had not spoken. ‘Messieurs, this is a sacred charge. I trust you will consider it before aught else. It will be necessary for you to bestow every care and all the affection of which you are capable upon our King.’

‘We swear to do this,’ said the three together, as the King turned his face away from Madame de Ventadour momentarily to scowl at them.

Madame de Ventadour rose. She took Louis by the hand and pulled him towards the men. Villeroi put out a hand to take the King’s but Louis had gripped Madame de Ventadour’s skirt and had nothing but frowns for his new Governor.

Madame de Ventadour said: ‘Now, my dearest, I must go and leave you with your new guardians.’

She withdrew her skirt from his grip, but with a loud sob he flung himself into her arms and cried: ‘Do not go, Maman. Do not let them take me away from you.’

Over his head, she looked at the three men. ‘In time he will understand,’ she said.

So they nodded and left her alone with the sobbing child.

He would not eat. Every now and then a sob shook the small body. Madame de Ventadour tried to soothe him but there was no real comfort to offer, since all he asked was to stay with her, and that could not be. At last exhausted he slept, and when he awoke he found that, instead of Madame de Ventadour, his Governor, the Duc de Villeroi, was sitting by his bed. He started up in dismay but the Duc said: ‘There is nothing to fear, Sire. In a short while you will find your Governor as much to your liking as your Governess was.’

‘Go away,’ said Louis.

‘Sire, it is the wish of the people . . .’

‘I am the King,’ said Louis. ‘I have wishes too.’

‘They shall be granted, but . . .’

‘I want my Maman,’ said Louis. ‘Bring her to me.’

Villeroi said: ‘There are many things you will learn, Sire, and they will be of great interest. You shall learn to fence and dance and sing. You shall hunt. You will find life much more interesting when you live among men.’

‘I want Maman Ventadour,’ said Louis stonily.

‘You shall see her now and then.’

‘Now!’ commanded Louis.

‘First you will eat, Sire?’

Louis hesitated. He was hungry, but his fear of the future was greater than his hunger.

‘Bring my Maman first,’ he said.

And after much attempted persuasion it was at length realised that Madame de Ventadour must be brought back.

She comforted him; she explained that he was the King and must do, not what he wanted, but what was right. If he did that, she said, he would be a very happy man.

He clung to her, and cried until he was exhausted; and then suddenly the understanding came to him that there was nothing he could do but accept this life which was thrust upon him.

Bravely he kissed Madame de Ventadour and allowed himself to be led into the new life which would be dominated by his guardian, the Duc de Villeroi.


* * *

It was less miserable than he had believed it could be. Indeed, he began to realise that what they had told him was true; living with men was more interesting than life with Madame de Ventadour. Moreover he saw her frequently and that was always a pleasure. He was realising that he had not only Madame de Ventadour but a new and exciting existence.

In the first place the Duc de Villeroi sought to please him in every way; he flattered him and lost no opportunity of calling everyone’s attention to the beauty and the outstanding intelligence of his charge. That was pleasant. He saw more of his amusing Uncle Philippe, who always made him laugh and whose coming always put Monsieur de Villeroi into a bad mood which he unsuccessfully attempted to hide from Louis. But Uncle Philippe laughed slyly at the ill humour of Monsieur de Villeroi, and Louis joined in the laughter.

His tutor made the deepest impression upon the boy. Fleury was not outwardly sycophantish, and perhaps for this reason won the boy’s respect. He had a quiet dignity and, because he rarely gave an order as such, he extracted the utmost obedience from his charge.

Being determined that the King’s education should be as perfect as he could make it, he had called in assistants. There was a fellow-historian, Alary, to add his wisdom to that of Fleury for the King’s benefit, since it was of the utmost importance that the King should have an understanding of history; there was the mathematician, Chevalier, and the geographer, Guillaume Delisle. And if Fleury felt further experts were needed he did not hesitate to call in professors from the Lycée Louis-le-Grand.

Fleury had arranged that there should be lessons in the mornings and evenings, so that there would be an interval when the boy might amuse himself with his favourite games and pastimes. Important subjects, such as writing, Latin and history, appeared on the curriculum every day; others were spread over the week. Fleury planned to have a printing press set up so that Louis might be taught typography; military science was not forgotten and, as it was Fleury’s wish that this should be of a practical nature, he planned to have the Musketeers and the King’s Own Regiment perform manoeuvres in which the King could take part.

Thus being educated became a matter of absorbing interest to the boy, who proved to be of more than average intelligence.

There were other matters to interest him. He formed a friendship with one of his pages, the Marquis de Calvière, and these two spent many happy hours playing games and taking their toys to pieces and putting them together again. Louis developed an interest in cooking, and he enjoyed making sweetmeats and presenting them to Madame de Ventadour, Uncle Philippe, Villeroi, Fleury – any with whom he felt particularly pleased.

It was impossible to be bored with so much of interest happening and it was not long before Louis discovered the intrigue which was going on.

Monsieur de Villeroi feared and hated someone. Louis wondered whom.

One day as they were making sweetmeats while the Duc de Villeroi was enjoying a siesta, Louis asked young Calvière if he had noticed it.

‘Look,’ said the King. ‘This is to be an Easter egg. For whom shall it be? My Governor? Uncle Philippe? Or Maman Ventadour? Or Monsieur de Fleury?’

‘That,’ said Calvière, ‘is for you to decide.’

‘Monsieur de Villeroi locks up my bread and butter,’ Louis announced.

The page nodded.

‘And my handkerchiefs,’ went on Louis. ‘They are kept in a box with a triple lock.’

‘He is afraid,’ said Calvière.

‘Of what?’

‘He is afraid of poisoners.’

‘He is afraid someone will poison me!’ said the King. ‘Who?’

Calvière lifted his shoulders. ‘That egg is not the right shape,’ he said.

‘It is,’ said Louis.

‘It is not.’

‘It is.’

Louis picked up a wooden spoon and would have brought it down on the page’s head but Calvière jerked up his hand and the spoon hit Louis in the face. In a moment the two boys were wrestling on the floor.

Suddenly they stopped and went back to the bench. ‘I shall make fondants,’ said Calvière.

‘My egg shall be for Uncle Philippe. I love him best today.’

‘I know why,’ said Calvière laughing. ‘It is because Monsieur de Villeroi made you dance before the ambassadors.’

Louis stood still, remembering. It was true. The Maréchal had made him strut before the foreign ambassadors. ‘What do you think of the King’s beauty?’ he had asked. ‘Look at his beautifully proportioned figure and his beautiful hair.’ Then Villeroi had asked the King to run round the room, that the ambassadors should see how fleet he was; and to dance for them that they might see how graceful. ‘See! It might be his great-grandfather dancing before you. It is said that none danced as gracefully as Louis XIV. That is because they had not seen Louis XV.’