XI – Sideshow

Elise Perrault was very fond of her work. She was a maid at the Palais Cardinal and thus a devoted servant to the whims of courtly society. When she was not busy preparing a room or running errands across the huge palace and outside of it in Paris, she took care of the wishes of the noble dames. This included polishing jewellery, delivering letters, coiffuring, dressing and, on bad days, doing laundry.

Elise had rough hands and calluses on the palms, witnesses of hard work. She could grip tightly and lift heavy. Sometimes the sweat stood not only under her armpits but also in her shoes. Often she was treated like the dirt she had to clean off the elegant women's pumps.

Most of the time she was invisible. She could stand in the middle of a room and still be overlooked. Sometimes she would peer secretly into a mirror or a window pane to make sure she was still there. Then a pair of green eyes looked back, from a narrow face framed by copper curls. Elise was just over twenty years old, but the hard work had made her age before time. She seemed more mature than many of the aristocratic demigoddesses, more experienced in life, because of first wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. Elise knew it was inappropriate vain of her, but she used ointment to care for her skin and hands.

Despite all the harshness and disdain, she was fond of her work. She was a part of the servants. Without the tireless efforts of the maids and lackeys, the uncomplaining performance of all tasks from the earliest morning until the late night, the Palais Cardinal would not function. They belonged to the household like willing hands, hardly cherished, often reviled, seldom noticed. They heard and saw everything, knew every sensitivities, every secret of the Mesdames et Messieurs. They were silent and did their duties. They stuck together, helped and cared for each other.

Elise belonged to them, was part of the household and family, for several years now. She was paid good money, because the paterfamilias was very generous, and once she came back home in the evening completely exhausted, she smiled.

There was only one problem: Elise Perrault had an opinion. She could think about things and matters - and she did, sometimes to her own annoyance, when she would have preferred to be stupid and obtuse.

»Elise!«

She hastily hid the little letter - that Sorel had secretly slipped her - in her pinafore and turned around with an apologetic smile. »Yes?«

»Are you dreaming again?« Sarah Simon glanced curiously at the other maid. She was slightly younger than Elise, but stronger in build, with apple-red cheeks, blonde hair and a cute snub nose. Her devotion to duty was limited, but her sense for people was all the more pronounced. She could hug, love, but also nag like a mother - and she was Elise's best friend. Now she grinned with amusement. »Of this guardsman? Sorel? Oh, it must be Sorel!«

Elise felt the blood rush to her cheeks. The two women were in one of the palace's spacious corridors and for the first time in days the sun was shining brightly enough to light up the otherwise rather gloomy hallways. It was just before noon, they had already done their morning chores and were now busy preparing their further tasks for the day. Sarah had her arm full of whites, which she now began to fold. She had surprised Elise, who was supposed to be cutting fresh flowers that another footman had picked up from the market in the Marais district. Elise almost slipped with the knife and replied more forcefully than necessary: »Not at all!«

»As if!« Of course Sarah didn't believe her at all and teased her: »You've been dreaming again. I know that look on your face. Well? You can tell me. Besides, everyone knows anyway.«

»Everyone?« Elise listened in alarm. Had she and Sorel been seen? She had hoped that only Sarah had noticed her connection to him. It was hard to hide from her closest friend that she had had a lot dealings with the young man recently - and yet it was perfectly normal for the guardsmen to pass the time with harmless conversations and sometimes quite impertinent words against the maids. Sometimes they even pinched a butt, and got a promptly slap in the face in return. But the skirts stayed down and the men were cavalier enough to leave it at that. Even though Sarah might have liked to proceed coquetting and even kissing. Elise thought her fun-loving friend capable of doing it.

»Absolutely everyone!« Sarah confirmed with feigned seriousness and giggled immediately afterwards. She looked a little pale around the tip of her nose today, as if she was plagued by a slight touch of nausea or as if the night had been rather short. Her amusement about her friend being terribly fallen in love made her feel better. Due to the distraction, her cheeks shone with their usual freshness, her eyes were shining brightly.

Elise noticed little of it, she looked around uncomfortably, visibly nervous. They were not alone, they never were. At a distance, other lackeys and maids were busy with their daily chores. No one seemed to pay particular attention to the two young women, but of course nothing escaped the servants' attention. Elise was only too aware of the curiosity from all sides and she turned the tables on them now. »You are mistaken. I was thinking of Gustave.«

Not only Sarah suddenly stood as if she was thunderstruck. All the other servants were immediately absorbed in their own affairs and secured their ears. Elise was almost sorry to take advantage of the others' fear to distract them from herself and Sorel. Sarah also looked at her friend in shock and lowered her voice. »Don't talk about old Moraut!«

»Why not?« All at once Elise was in cold fury because of the cowardice of the others, to duck and keep their heads down. Gustave was one of them after all, and now suddenly no one was allowed to talk about him? She couldn't brace herself against, in spite of all her anger, to continue just in a whispering: »Do you think, otherwise the guard will come and I will disappear without a trace like Gustave?«

Sarah pursed her lips and pretended to be completely absorbed in her work. Elise did not try to get an answer from her. Everyone knew that the old valet had been arrested. But only Elise knew the reason for this too, and of all the servants she should have been the most afraid.

Granted, in the last days and weeks she had repressed every thought of Gustave Moraut, other matters took her completely. Sorel, for example. Or the two strange men who had entered her house through a window five days ago.

Elise's heart was still beating wildly and torn between fear and courage as she thought back on it. She had apprehended one of the blokes at the stairs. Her pistol didn't seem to impress him much, even though he had stopped. On the contrary, he was still brazen enough to stare at her with interest despite the gun. The situation was still vividly in Elise's mind. The cad showed some impudence and self-confidence in wanting to forbid her to speak by raising a finger on his lips!

Elise had realised at that moment that it was very, very difficult to really shoot a person. Totally impossible, when you were looking into the eyes of this person, when he was smiling charmingly and a bit mischievously. He could have easily overpowered her if that had been his intention. His own armament, epee and dagger, hadn't escaped her notice. She could have been dead herself. But he just limped down the steps and the young woman watched him and his companion from a window until they had disappeared into the streets.

It had turned out well by a hair's breadth. Perhaps her heart was not only fluttering with excitement at the danger she had overcome, but- Sarah tore her from her thoughts once again. »You're already completely absent again.«

»Pardon?« Elise blinked. At her friend's inquiring gaze, she turned all the more indignantly back to the vase on the sideboard and rearranged the flowers. »I am not!«

»That fellow has really turned your head. For days you've been staring into the air oblivious of all around you.«

Elise plucked off a wilted petal and pursed her lips tightly together. Completely sealed, even Sarah had to admit that she didn't want to talk about putative liaisons. Sarah did not seem to want to give up that easily. But just as she opened her mouth for another friendly teasing, heavy boot steps interrupted her, heard from one end of the corridor. Sarah immediately turned back to the sheets and pretended to be busy.

Elise did the same. From the corner of her eye, she recognised red uniforms as they approached, then Lieutenant Jussac, accompanied by Messieurs Bernajoux and Biscarat. It would have surprised her to find one of the three guardsmen all by himself for once. The officer seemed to be very upset, in passing Elise heard him ranting: »Rochefort and his cursed favour! Why did I let myself in for this?!«

»Because he's won you over with his charming graciousness?« Only Biscarat could presume to speak so freely to his superior. Moreover, of the three guardsmen, he seemed to be the only one who didn't feel completely alone in the corridor. However amused he was, he still kept an eye on the servants. It was not meant to be unfriendly or suspicious, but attentive. Elise assumed he was used to assessing his surroundings.

Sarah and Elise pretended to be busy but secretly listened to the conversation. It was just daily gossip, Elise didn't feel bad about to loan an ear. Especially as the exciting continuation of a story that had went around for a few days seemed to be in the offing: Comte de Rochefort had allegedly approached Jussac with a request for a favour. Something about nepotism and the red guard. Nobody really knew for sure, but the favour itself was extraordinary enough to stay tuned.

»I hold, you hit.« Bernajoux made that offer and Jussac growled, »Great. Whom do we start with?«

Biscarat seemed to refrain from laughing at the lieutenant's irritable mood. »I recommend d'Artagnan. Then you'll be rid of the favour while getting one over on Rochefort.«

Sarah glanced at her friend in a meaningful way. D'Artagnan? Lieutenant d'Artagnan of the royal musketeers? Yes, his name was known here since he had defied the Cardinal long ago. Elise was not the only one who wondered what kind of man he must have been. What a thoroughly stupid fool. Sarah might have thought resistance to the First Minister was audacious, bold, undeterred and a little romantic. Elise thought it was pure folly, no better than Sorel's secret letters, which they exchanged behind the Cardinal's back.

The guardsmen had moved on and were almost out of earshot. Elise picked up Jussac's »Not helpful«, then they had turned a corner. Sarah made no secret of her excitement and asked delighted at the new gossip: »What do you think?«

»About what?«

»Well, that! That a musketeer has changed sides. And Monsieur d'Artagnan, of all people!«

Elise shrugged and wiped up the leaves and stems she had cut off. »I don't think anything of it.«

»Seriously?« Sarah seemed genuinely disappointed. »Oh, you're really not a good person to talk to right now. Does at least your Sorel have an opinion of his new comrade?«

»He's not my Sorel!« Elise sniffed at the question. »If he has, he hasn't told me.«

»How boring.« Sarah sighed and picked up the folded sheets. It was time to get back to work and not get caught up in whimsical conversations. But before she left, Sarah did not let her friend get away with it completely. »I'll find out yet what tender nullities you both are writing to each other.«

Elise's breath caught for a moment, but Sarah just grinned, »I told you, everyone knows. You two aren't very secretive.«

»I must be going, adieu!« Elise turned away abruptly and hurried away. Her friend's cheerful laughter still haunted her all the way to the rooms of the Madame Montcalm Marquise de Saint-Véran. The Madame was strolling in the gardens and Elise had to prepare the chamber for her return. But first she leaned against the door and tried to calm her breath.

Everyone knew? They absolutely had to be more cautious! Sorel, this fool in love, was far too careless with everything! Elise had to talk to him if she didn't want to end up like Gustave. Poor Gustave. He was such a good-natured, kind man. As a better-off valet, he had always had an open ear for the worries and needs of the other servants. He had a big heart, so much pity. He only wanted to help. And now he was probably dead.

Elise didn't want to share his fate, and yet she had somehow gotten involved in something that threatened to be too much for her. She was not a heroine, she wasn't even particularly brave. She couldn't catch burglars in the house or simply shout, »Enough!« at Sorel.

Nevertheless, she cracked on as normal. For Odette's sake. Mademoiselle de la Nièvre, who had seen her. Really seen. Not overlooked her, like the other aristocrats. Odette had been kind to her, had spoken to her. She had given her a pretty necklace. She had shared her joys and sorrows as Elise had only known from being with Sarah. She had become her confidante as far as a mademoiselle and a maid could be friends. Elise had to promise her faithfully to be brave. Then she had fled.

Elise got away from the door and set about arranging the Marquise's rooms. Not only did the madame expect everything to be clean and tidy, but a splash of perfume had to be sprayed in the air in precise doses. Elise had already caught a slap in the face because the chamber did not smell sweet in a way the Marquise liked most.

She was used to beatings, they were as much a part of her life as the air she breathed. Sarah would have been charmed by a heroic cavalier on horseback, who would took her away with him. To another life, wherein he would always fulfil her every wish happily ever after. Elise, for her part, would only have stared angrily at such an uninvited knight, because he strut along like a fool and ruined her freshly wiped floor with his dusty boots.

The young woman did her work conscientiously and the hours passed quickly. In the evening, after the Marquise finally released her, Elise took her usual route home through the palace. She crossed the front courtyard, the meeting place of the guardsmen, taking care not to step on the joints between the stone slabs. The game always cheered her up, for it drove away gloomy thoughts with carelessness.

Today she was interrupted. Loud voices blew over to her, a dispute seemed to be in full spate. Elise stopped and her eyes fell on two guardsmen. In one of them she recognized Lieutenant Jussac, who seemed to be talking himself into a fury. Elise could not understand exactly what was going on. Unconsciously, she approached a few steps closer, paying particular attention to the other guard, who apparently had to suffer a sermon. But instead of giving in to the wrath of his superior, he stood confidently in front of Jussac. This surprised Elise, especially as the lieutenant had nothing very friendly to say.

»Is all of this just a joke to you, d'Artagnan? Then explain the punch line, for you do not see me laughing!«

Elise listened attentively. So that men was the former musketeer? She didn't wonder anymore that he did not bow to Jussac and even dared to respond: »If it is a joke, it's at both our expense. Ask Rochefort about this, maybe he will answer.«

»I make a suggestion: you answer me and I will not let you stand guard at that old door until the twelfth of never! What in God's name are you after here?«

»Here I'm not after anything, Jussac.« The mischievously smile that d'Artagnan unexpectedly showed made Elise shudder. She withdrew hastily before the men could notice her.

It was him! The burglar! He was at the palace!

Elise could no longer hear what the lieutenant replied. She had already passed the gate and ran home as fast as she could. It was never ever a coincidence that this man had first broken into her house and then suddenly appeared here among the guards!

Sarah was right: she absolutely had to ask Sorel about him!