Louis was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I hoped you might stay here. That you might think of this as home.”

“I cannot.”

“Not even for your children.”

“For their sakes and my own, I must show contrition for my life.”

“I know. You may go.”

Louise let go of her rosary. She stared at the King. He had not meant leave the room, but leave Versailles.” “Majesty, thank you with all my heart.”

“Arrangements will be made.”

“I pray God for a healing angel to be with you.” She smiled at Louis, then at Bontemps, and left the chamber with a new lightness to her step, one that seemed much like a dance.

“I must sadly report the demise of the King’s doctor, Masson,” Fabien said as Colbert sat hunched over his desk in the War Cabinet room, processing a stack of nobles’ paperwork. “Died of a condition of the stomach, I’m told.”

“We must appoint another royal physician at once.”

“The King has a preferred candidate already in place.”

“Oh?” Colbert looked up. “Is the King recovered?”

“He is not.”

Colbert considered Fabien, waiting for more information, but not receiving it he looked back at the stack on the desk.

“Are your noble papers complete?” asked Fabien.

“Mine?” Colbert scratched his ear. “Oh, well, I’ve yet to submit, in fact.”

Fabien tapped the stack. “And these people here. Are they in order?”

“Yes. Beauvilliers. Poitou. De Clermont. That makes twenty this evening.”

“Madame de Clermont? May I see?”

Colbert handed him the paper. “Yes. I forgot you’re known to each other. Her lineage extends several generations. This document proves it. I must say I’m quite relieved.”

Fabien held the paper, studied it, and put it down. “Thank you.” He turned to leave but then his heart tightened and he looked back. “Might I see that paper again?”

Colbert nodded and Fabien picked it up. “You’re likewise relieved, no doubt,” said Colbert.

“It’s a fine piece of paper. The grain is very smooth.” And as he studied it closely his eyes narrowed and his heart tightened.

Fabien hurried back to his office, clutching Beatrice’s paper. He shut the door and went to the table on which a large scroll lay. On one side was a long list of names. On the other, a map of France marked with red spots, many of which were located in Paris.

Hearing him enter, Laurene came out from a side room and approached him, breathless. “I saw Cassel in conversation with several new nobles,” she said. “Including Madame de Clermont.”

Fabien glanced at her. “Who else?”

“Poitiers. Anjou.”

“Since the court became aware of the King’s condition, the number of conversations between these individuals has increased markedly. Anjou, you say, and Poitier, both to Cassel –”

“And Madame de Clermont.”