“It is a lettre de cachet, mademoiselle. With this, I can send you to the Bastille or any prison of my choosing. I can place you in solitary confinement, and give instructions that you are never to be seen again. I do not have to supply any reason for my action. It is entirely within my power. I have sent young women to prison in this manner before. And I am quite ready to sign this letter now, and find Monsieur de Cygne another wife. The guards outside the door will convey you to prison at once. In one minute from now, mademoiselle, you will vanish forever.”

Amélie felt herself shivering. A terrible cold descended upon her. She had never known such fear before.

“I will do as you command, Your Majesty,” she said hoarsely.

“Do not at any time disobey me, mademoiselle, in the smallest particular. I shall hear of it if you do. And then, even Monsieur de Cygne will not be able to save you.”

“I shall never disobey you, sire,” she swore, “as long as I live.”

“I shall come to your marriage,” he said, and dismissed her.

A year later, Amélie de Cygne gave birth to a baby boy. Her husband wrote to his young cousin in Canada to announce the fact. He did not write to him again.

•  1715  •

It was quite a common sight, in the early years of the eighteenth century, to see the old man on the Pont Neuf, especially when the weather was warm. His grandson would bring him there in his cart.

Some people could still remember him in his prime.

“You should have heard him then,” they would tell the younger folk. “The greatest mouth in Paris.” And strong as an ox. For look at how long he had lived. Nobody was sure of his exact age, but he must be over eighty. He still wore a red scarf around his neck, under his white beard.

If people came up and spoke to him, he would answer them briefly, and when he did so it could be seen that he had two or three teeth, which was remarkable for such an aged man.

When he appeared in the summer of 1715, Hercule Le Sourd had not been seen for months, and the previous winter had clearly taken its toll. His face was gaunt, and his clothes hung upon him loosely. But he got out of his grandson’s cart and walked stiffly across to the middle of the bridge. And was seen there every week or so after that.