She had never been in the intimate presence of King Louis before. He was wearing a coat of deep red velvet trimmed with gold, a lace cravat and a large wig that reproduced the magnificent dark brown hair of his youth. His face was sensual, a little fleshy now, but every line proclaimed that he was used to being obeyed. His eyes were smaller than she had realized, as dark brown as his wig, and sharp and cynical as the world that he commanded. In his usual fashion when seated, his left leg was tucked back and his right, impressively muscular in its white silk stocking, was stuck out proudly.

“You are young, Mademoiselle d’Artagnan,” he said calmly. “You bear a fine name.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said. She felt rather frightened.

“It is my wish that you should honor the name of d’Artagnan that you are so fortunate to bear. I am sure you understand me.”

“I think so, sire.”

“Whatever you may believe about your birth, you are never to speak of these doubts again. Never. If you do, you may be sure that I shall hear of it.”

“I merely try to be honest, Your Majesty,” she ventured.

“That is often commendable. But in these circumstances it is ill-advised and would bring pain to others and to yourself. You will therefore do as I wish.” He looked at her to make sure she had understood.

She bowed her head, and said nothing.

“You have the opportunity to render a great service to a family who have served France for many centuries, and to bring happiness to a brave and honest man. I am speaking of course of Monsieur de Cygne.”

“He did me the honor to propose marriage, Your Majesty, but he may have changed his mind.”

“On the contrary, he is quite determined to marry you, Mademoiselle d’Artagnan, and it is my wish that this marriage should take place.”

“I wonder, Your Majesty …” she began desperately, but the king signified that she should cease speaking at once.

“I wish it,” he said bleakly.

Le Roi le veult: the king wishes it. The final word against which there could be no argument and no recourse. She fell silent.

And then she discovered why even the princes of the blood trembled in the presence of the Sun King.

“It is best for everyone that you do exactly as I say, mademoiselle,” King Louis quietly continued. “You must trust my wisdom. You will never question your birth again, you will marry Monsieur de Cygne and one day you will be glad that you did.” And now his voice suddenly became harsh. “But if you fail in the slightest degree to follow the instructions I have just given you, then you will regret it.” He picked up a sheet of paper from the table. “Do you know what this is?”

“No, Your Majesty.”