‘Have you not wondered why I wear the uniform of a volunteer, mademoiselle? Why it is that my associates at this table, Monsieur de Biron, even my sons, Messieurs de Chartres and de Montpensier, are given ranks among the Army of the North and I suffer to wear a tunic no different from that of any broom-seller?’ Orléans’s lip curled, more with amusement than anger. ‘The King will not offer me a commission. I do not serve in His Majesty’s army because he has instructed me to do so, but rather on account of my allegiance to the nation.’ He smirked. ‘My cousin is a fool, and has always been poorly advised. What worse decision might he have made than to force the Champion of the People into the uniform of the people, non?’ He raised his glass to me and sighed, deep and long.

I could not think of any appropriate words to offer and so alighted upon some other silly matter in the hope of distracting him from that which clearly vexed him.

‘Pray, monseigneur, how is it that this house has come to be called La Volière?’

Orléans’s expression instantly lifted.

‘Has Madame not shown you?’

I shook my head.

‘Then I shall remedy that this instant.’

Orléans called for a lantern and promptly removed it from the servant’s hand. He turned to me and offered his arm.

Of course, you think me a fool to wander into some dark passage with a gentleman known for his predilection for debauchery? Well, Madame de Flaghac and Mrs Elliot had both reassured me that his character had been entirely reformed. And had I not seen great proof of his doting affection for Madame de Buffon? Indeed, it was not he who had engineered this stroll away from the company, but rather it had come at my behest. It was no more than an innocent request, spoken by a wearied but polite guest, who was very much bemused by the day’s events.

I was somewhat relieved to find that we proceeded through no more than an antechamber before arriving at our destination: a set of green and gold apartments upon the ground floor. As the rooms were lit with but two or three candles, the spectacle along the walls would not have been visible had my companion not raised his light to it. From beneath the lantern’s cast emerged a fantastic aviary. Painted peacocks with broadly fanned feathers, long-necked swans, goldfinches, pheasants and spotted starlings spread their wings across the panels. They held garlands aloft in their beaks and even soared into the sky-coloured ceiling, between puffs of thin white cloud. I marvelled aloud at the skill of such a master.

‘But you have not yet seen the finest feature of La Volière,’ said Orléans, opening the glass doors that led from the house.

I confess, here I hesitated for an instant.