Disclaimer: The characters of Le Chevalier D'Eon do not belong to me. May contain spoilers for the anime.
Emme, part of looking into the characters seeing how differently they view the same person. Understandably, the traditionalists like Voronstov and Bestuzhev will feel threatened with the reforms Lia urged Elizaveta to carry out. As for the outtake, if Max were present, he'd knock Durand out then ogle Lia himself.
It seems that Durand and the French ambassador to England have some past acquaintanceship. Here's my take.
De Guercy: Roll of the Die
Success to each other and pass it along
Viva la compagnie
The clock ticks painfully slowly as I seek solace in my wine. Espionage was never my strong suit. I lack the stomach for it. If it weren't for drink, I'd have lost my mind long ago. I should have taken the advice given to me by Durand two years ago in Marseilles when I was considering a diplomatic career…
"A generous gift to Comte d'Avgin and you get posted to London as an ambassador?" my drinking companion chuckles and chokes on his tankard.
"You think I make a poor ambassador?" The perks of ambassadorial life beckon me. A generous living allowance, a spacious residence in the classiest district of London. Better still, I finally get out of the backwater I have languished in since that terrible faux pas I committed in Versailles involving a young lady Louis XV had his eye on. I am not going to be dissuaded by some down-on-his-luck knight like Sir Durand.
"No, no… but one might think you will be, how you say, conflicted. Your late mother was English…"
"Scottish," I interject but he takes little notice.
"And they ask you to spy on the English…" the shrewd wisdom gleams in Durand's dark eyes. "Give the offer some thought, mon ami. All the best in your new career, should you decide to take it. Better a live ass than a dead lion," he gives me an easy-going smile.
Durand came to me at the embassy in London. The first time with the Frenchmen I would later betray. They needed my aid to obtain some papers from the Secretary Robert Wood. I gave them that aid for a generous fee from Durand. Should I have acted the part of a loyal Frenchman and aided the four who claim to be on His Majesty's secret orders gratis? I do not have proof of the king's hand in this matter. Besides, I needed the money badly. The diplomatic allowance is nothing like what it was cracked up to be and I am greatly in debt.
I'm not cut out for this spying business. No doubt my master in Versailles despairs of the despatches I sent back. I really did my best…
Lord Sandwich, even His Majesty George III of England… I have been called on, offered bribes… I must betray both France and you, mon ami. There is no other way around it. Better a live ass than a dead lion. King Louis XV is in distant Versailles. What will happen to me if I refuse? I'd be whisked off to the Tower or some dank dungeon and I don't think His Majesty of France would care one whit about my fate. There are only a couple miles of salt water separating France and England, but it might as well as be an ocean. When in England, it's best to throw my lot in with the English. There's no future for me in France, is there, Durand? I'm stuck here until I retire or die. I do not wish to die in a prison…
I stare at the painting of Versailles before me. Durand admired that painting when he came the second time, alone and a fugitive. He had been maimed. I saw the empty coat sleeve flapping behind him as he moved about the room. He did not mention where his comrades have sought refuge. I envy his calmness, even in the direst situations. No wonder you are worthy of the Secret du Roi.
Blackmail. Never thought you would stoop to that, mon ami. But I guess things change. A maimed spy is of little use. Yet Robespierre, another French traitor, seems to think not.
Yet you turned your back on what must be your last chance. Robespierre was furious when you snubbed his offer. You chose to cling to your principles, your loyalty to your comrades and His Majesty…
Alas, principles are luxuries in these uncertain times. A toast, Durand. I gulp down one more glass of wine. You and your friends are probably dead now. There is no escape for you now that Lord Sandwich has set the redcoats on you. You gambled and lost, Durand. You know how the game is played. You played it often enough…
"I'm upping the stakes…" Durand grins from across the card table. I panic, my cards aren't that good, but they are not too bad either. A king, two tens and an eight. Could he have more points than me? To match his stake or forfeit? Calmly, Durand doubled his stakes. Then he trebles them, the smile on his face never faltering.
"Forfeit…" I splutter. The other players decide to do the same, except for the Marquis Corbette, who was too stubborn to forfeit. Now was the time for reckoning. The two remaining players showed their hands.
The marquis' cards are a nine, a five, a seven and a two. His hand is even worse than mine. Durand lowers his cards. Two queens, a knave and an ace. His hand is worse than the one I had. Yet he wins the game to the demerit of the marquis' purse.
Morning. I lift my bleary eyes to the new day streaming through the embassy windows. I regard the empty wine bottles on my desk ruefully. I had fallen asleep at my desk, again.
What was that crash? I try to rise.
No! This cannot be! Redcoat soldiers barge into my study. What is the meaning of this? I open my mouth to protest, but only weak sounds come forth.
Two hold me at bayonet point as their fellows search my office. One feels the frame of the painting of Versailles, carefully searching with his fingertips. With a triumphant shout, he yanks out the damning papers. I'm under arrest for spying…
What? How? It hits me then. Durand placing his hand on the picture as we chatted. The hint of a smile was dancing at the corners of his mouth. The die had been tossed then and Durand won.
Checkmate, mon ami. I can picture him grinning, as he skips town on some sloop.
I feel like an ass. Better a live ass than a dead lion… I'm ruined. I'm soon to be a dead ass.
Author's Notes:
I'm not too familiar with card games played back then. In some card games, the king is the highest card. After the French revolution, the ace, previously the lowest card was changed to the highest card in some games to symbolise the rise of the lowest in society over the king.
Outtake: More painting jokes.
Durand and Maximilien are staring at the painting of Versailles.
Durand: Is this an original Monet or Wordsworth?
Maximilien: Wait, there is something in that corner. Looks like the artist's signature
The pair takes a closer look. The squiggle says – Made in China.