"Yes," said Serge calming himself, "enormous. Larger than the three of us together."

"Surely you jest man."

"No Monsieur, it is no jest. Jean here is a witness, he saw her too," Serge said pointing to the driver who nodded as he chewed. "And that dress, I've never seen so much yellow in one place in all my life."

"I've seen smaller tunics on cavalry mares," Jean said chuckling.

"Alright, what else?"

"He has no children and lives a short ride west of town."

"Did you see his place?"

Serge nodded. "It's about the same acreage as yours near as I could tell, but with a larger house."

"Anything else?"

Serge shook his head.

"Good work lads. You're both in room two. I'll see you at sunrise," Louis said, getting up from the table.

Serge and Jean were already waiting by the carriage when Louis stepped out into the morning sun. He wore a pastel blue jacket and pants with white leggings and black shoes. A tight curled white powder wig covered his brown hair. "How do I look?" he called out to Serge, who walked toward him quickly.

"Marvelous Monsieur," Serge said, circling him as a worker bee attends a queen. "Oh, a little bit of hair showing. Just let me tuck..." He slipped a lock of brown under the wig. "There, you look perfect Monsieur."

"Let's go," Louis said nervously as he handed the leather case to Serge and stepped inside.

The ride to Versailles took less than an hour. The palace grounds buzzed with activity. Construction of all sorts was underway in every part of the grounds. Serge hopped out and placed the black lacquered step stool under the carriage door. "Do you want me to come in with you Monsieur?"

"No, just have the carriage ready to leave. I'll find him myself." Louis straightened his jacket, grabbed the mirrors and walked up the wide marble steps leading to the main hall. An attendant met him halfway up and escorted him in.

Charles Le Brun was the official portraitist for King Louis XIV as well as co-architect for all his majesty's improvements at Versailles. Louis was shown into his office after a three-hour wait.

In a time of wigs and makeup, Le Brun wore neither. The long black wiry hair bordering his round face fell down almost to the desktop he was leaning over.

"Monsieur Le Brun," the attendant said softly, "a Monsieur Louis Lucas de Nehon to see you."

"Yes, thank you," he said looking up at Louis.

"I've looked forward to meeting you Monsieur," Louis said offering his hand.

Le Brun took his hand normally, then did a double take as he saw the tattoo. "Say, this symbol on your hand, Madame Ruebal has the same one. What is it?"

"It's an Egyptian good luck symbol that we both saw and fancied during a trip together. We decided to keep it as a remembrance."