The Cat and the King Read Online Free PDF Page A

on his closed stool said that he made even his defecations imperial.
    It was permissible for those standing closest to the table to address the king when he was not actually swallowing or masticating. Waiting until his gaze took me in, I stepped forward and bowed.
    â€œMay I be permitted a word, sire, on the question of the alms bag?”
    The dark eyes emitted a faint glitter. “There
is
no question, sir. The matter has been regulated.”
    â€œBut, sire, I humbly suggest there has been a misapprehension of my attitude. I wish only to make explicit my utter loyalty and devotion.”
    â€œVery well, then. When you wish.”
    He turned to his goblet, and I stepped quickly back. So far, so good. After the dinner Beauvillier told me exactly what to do next. I should stand in the front row of the courtiers waiting outside the council chamber the following morning and step immediately forward when the king came out. He would then appoint a time for an audience, perhaps immediately. It was all simple enough, but nonetheless I hardly closed my eyes that night, and Gabrielle made me drink two glasses of wine with breakfast.
    At noon, outside the council chamber, I did as I had been told. The king paused to give me one of his glacial stares, a mixture of surprise and faint irritation. Then he must have recollected what Beauvillier had told him at the coucher, for, beckoning me to follow him, he stepped into the embrasure of a window, where he folded his arms and waited for me to speak.
    I began with what I had intended to be the very briefest summary of the alms-bag controversy, but he interrupted me testily.
    â€œI have no time, sir, for such nit-picking. You spend your life fussing over imagined slights. You had far better have stayed in the army, where you were of some use.”
    I saw at once that the situation was desperate. I even dared now to raise my voice.
    â€œI had no intention, sire, of bringing up the issue of ducal rights. I only wish to tell you that, as a duke, my sole aim is to be of service to you. Had the duchesse de Saint-Simon and I known in the beginning that it was your desire that she should pass the alms bag, she would have passed it joyfully, and with my total blessing, among the humblest in the land, in the most fetid of hospitals, in the darkest of dungeons!”
    The king’s countenance at last relaxed. “Now that’s talking,” he said in a milder tone.
    I went on, carried away by my excitement, to declaim on my loyalty and that of my ancestors; to tell him that we were second to none in our zeal for the royal service. The king let me continue in this way for what must have been several minutes before interrupting me at last by raising his hand. And then, to my astonishment, it was to answer me in a tone that was almost benign!
    At first, I hardly took in what he was saying. His effect on me was hypnotic. I kept my gaze so firmly fixed upon his lips, not presuming to look him in the eye, that soon I began to feel a bit dizzy. His opening and closing orifice conjured up in my fantasy the mouth of a cave in the middle of a desert of infinite range and emptiness. It was as if no life could be contained in the parching dryness; that only in the darkness behind that agitated adit could there exist sustenance and support. But how could one make the passage past those teeth with any hope of safety? I was hearing the king, a voice kept saying to me! I was actually hearing the king!
    And then the purport of his words began again to come through to me. His tone was almost avuncular.
    â€œI had not thought, sir, that you had a proper excuse for quitting the army. However, if you truly wish to be of service here at court, there will always be occasion. But let me give a piece of advice. You must watch that tongue of yours! It is too inclined to be free. If you take care of that,
I
shall take care of you. I do not forget that my father loved yours.”
    This reference to my