Sorry for the wait!
As I was writing, I realised I had so much material that I needed to split it into two chapters. I've focused on this one for now, and I'll work on the next part so I can post it as soon as possible.
Thank you for the support Ic2096, Mium, Bellnconnue, Daoistjuhlup, , A_Revolving_Door, Galan_05, Porthos10, Ponny_Samy_2279, bepoed, paffnytij, FaZe_Dragon, KanKarp, Yako_3972!
ENJOY!
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François silently followed the Prince of Guéméné to a tall glass door in the centre of the mansion's west wing. The panes were so perfectly clean that, at first glance, one might have thought there was nothing between the wooden frames.
Beyond the door lay a corridor and several magnificent rooms, all bathed in light. The parquet floor, polished to perfection, gleamed softly beneath the sun's rays, reflecting everything like a mirror. The white walls, adorned with finely carved and gilded panelling, created an elegant setting without ever giving the impression of being overly ornate.
Numerous paintings hung on either side of the corridor, most depicting scenes of courtship or mythology, populated by figures in graceful poses and rendered in soft, luminous colours.
They were so beautiful, so soothing, that one almost felt tempted to step into them, to join the figures and lie in the tender grass beside ancient gods and goddesses, humble shepherds, nymphs, and lovers, losing oneself for hours in the contemplation of a landscape, a peaceful woodland, or a quiet stream.
Above them, the ceilings were every bit as magnificent. Vast frescoes depicting similar themes invited visitors to keep their heads raised, while imposing gilded chandeliers, their arms delicately curved, hung overhead with an almost weightless elegance.
Everything here bore witness to the taste of the two previous owners, Hercule-Mériadec de Rohan-Soubise and his grandson Charles de Rohan-Soubise, the last Prince of Soubise. A taste which, in truth, was hardly unique to them.
Since the end of Louis XIV's reign and the period commonly known as the Regency, this style had spread throughout the residences of Europe's high nobility before eventually becoming the fashion. Some regarded it as a break with the grand Baroque tradition, particularly because it abandoned austere compositions and stark contrasts in favour of lighter scenes, paler colours, and a fondness for asymmetrical forms.
Others saw nothing more than a natural evolution of the art of the previous century.
François, for his part, had little interest in such aesthetic disputes. He simply appreciated the beauty of the place and could not suppress a quiet sigh of admiration.
This mansion was considerably more beautiful than his friend Martin's residence, and even surpassed that of Madame de Lespinasse.
His reaction did not escape the prince, who allowed himself a satisfied smile.
"What do you think, Monsieur? Will our home be suitable for our guests?"
François knew the man was not genuinely asking. The answer was too obvious. The prince was perfectly aware of the value of his residence. Nevertheless, it would have been impolite to remain silent.
"It is magnificent, Monseigneur. I have never seen a private mansion as beautiful as this one. I cannot say whether our guests will feel entirely at ease here, but I believe your residence will help prepare the delegation for what they will discover at Versailles next week."
There could be no mistaking the compliment.
The Prince of Guéméné's smile widened.
"You are too kind. And yet our home is hardly comparable to the palaces of Paris, beginning with the Palais Bourbon, let alone Versailles."
As he continued walking at an even pace, he gestured towards the panelling and furnishings.
"In truth, I can claim very little credit for this decoration. We owe it all to those who came before us and to the artists they employed. The grandfather of the Prince of Soubise undertook extensive renovations to embellish the mansion, both inside and out, following his second marriage. The Prince of Soubise continued the work. Since his death, we have made very few changes. My wife is deeply attached to this place."
François slowly nodded. He had no reason to doubt the prince's words.
The truth, however, was somewhat more complicated.
The Prince of Soubise, who had died heroically during the attack on an English naval arsenal, had intended to transfer the bare ownership of the mansion to his younger daughter during his lifetime, while retaining its usufruct. In this way, the property would naturally have passed into Victoire de Rohan's hands upon his death. He had not, however, lived long enough to carry out his plans. This had led to a complicated inheritance dispute between his two daughters, Charlotte and Victoire de Rohan.
Victoire, still young and unmarried, found herself in a difficult position against her sister and her powerful husband, the Prince of Bourbon-Condé. She eventually found an ally in her cousin, the Prince of Guéméné, whom she married in haste. A few weeks later, Charlotte fell seriously ill.
She did not live much longer, but her sudden death was not enough to settle the inheritance questions, since her share now passed to her husband and their children.
It took lengthy negotiations before Victoire and Henri de Rohan were able to buy out Charlotte's rights to the Hôtel de Soubise and the Hôtel de Rohan. The transaction had taken a heavy toll on their finances.
The fact that so few changes had been made to the mansion in recent years was therefore not merely a reflection of Victoire's attachment to the residence. It was also the consequence of a long and costly inheritance settlement, compounded by the considerable expense of the lavish receptions the couple regularly held to maintain appearances.
Knowing none of this, François allowed himself to be dazzled by this display of apparent wealth.
Sparkling chandeliers, porcelain vases, lacquered furniture, and masterpieces followed one another from room to room. How could anyone imagine that this family might be short of money when confronted with such an exhibition of wealth and refined taste?
At last, they stopped in front of a double door. On either side stood two identical small cabinets made of reddish wood, framing the entrance. Beautiful vases had been placed upon them, filled with generous bouquets whose flowers still looked fresh and vibrant, as though they had been arranged with particular care.
The prince opened one of the doors and stepped aside to let his guest pass.
"After you, Monsieur."
François entered what appeared to be a study, roughly twice the size of his own office at Montrouge. The room was spacious enough to accommodate half a dozen people without their having to crowd together.
As soon as he crossed the threshold, he instinctively checked his blind spots, even keeping track of the prince's movements behind him by means of an oval mirror whose gilded frame matched the rest of the décor. The latter, of course, did nothing that might appear suspicious. He simply closed the door behind them.
The major then took a closer look at his surroundings.
Tall windows were framed by heavy green curtains decorated with floral patterns and finished with gold braid. The parquet floor, just as carefully maintained as the one in the corridor, gave off a faint scent of wax and honey. A rug with intricate patterns, probably from the Ottoman Empire or even more distant lands, covered part of the floor. Finally, a bookcase occupied almost an entire wall. Leather-bound volumes stood arranged on its shelves according to a system François made no attempt to understand.
I imagine these are very serious works. A family such as this one probably doesn't read many novels.
François walked around a small round table and slowed his pace slightly.
At the far end of the room, near a door much like all the others they had passed on their way there, stood a servant of particularly dignified bearing. Motionless, his back straight and chin raised, he looked almost like a sentry waiting patiently, without betraying the slightest impatience, to be relieved of his post.
Without uttering a word, the man gave a slight bow before opening the door for his master and his guest.
Four men were waiting inside, in a room decorated more soberly than the study they had just crossed. Its furnishings were arranged around an oval table covered with a tablecloth, upon which several files and documents had been laid out.
An unlit fireplace stood against one wall. Above the mantel, the elaborate coat of arms of the Princes of Soubise had been carved in relief, displaying the various marital alliances that had led to the last Prince of Soubise.
At the sight of François accompanying the Prince of Guéméné, the four men straightened and broke off their conversation.
François recognised none of them, which was hardly surprising. He did, however, notice as soon as he crossed the threshold that one of the men bore a certain resemblance to Guéméné.
The man had reached mature adulthood. He was slender and fairly tall, with an elongated face distinguished by an unusually narrow nose and very thin lips. His eyes drooped at the corners, giving him an air of great weariness, yet the major could still discern a lively spark in them. His eyebrows followed the same downward curve as his eyelids, making him look as though someone had just stepped on his foot and he was struggling not to swear.
His coat was of a conventional cut and subdued in colour, with no attempt to draw attention to itself. Its luxury was instead evident in the quality of the fabrics, perfectly suited to the season, and in the gold embroidery embellishing its edges and cuffs. An elegant powdered wig, neither too elaborate nor too extravagant, completed his attire.
Beside him stood a man of much the same generation, probably approaching his fiftieth year. He held himself very straight and watched François with an almost unsettling intensity, as though trying to determine precisely what kind of creature he was dealing with.
His coat, very dark but with a lovely bluish sheen when the light caught it, was no less refined than his neighbour's. It looked somewhat out of place amid the room's pale colours. A leather portfolio was clutched beneath his arm with such determination that one might have thought he was carrying his entire fortune in bearer bonds.
The other two men were younger, perhaps around forty, but their faces could hardly have been more different. The first was short, almost as short as the lady of the house, with a round face that was almost pear-shaped. His nose was short, and he sported a well-defined double chin. The second, by contrast, was of average height but alarmingly thin. His eyes were narrow and close-set, accentuating his gaunt appearance. He also had exceptionally fine eyebrows, so faint that they seemed almost nonexistent.
"Gentlemen," announced the Prince of Guéméné, "allow me to introduce Major Boucher de Montrouge, who has accompanied the delegation from New France. Major, permit me to present my father, the Prince of Rohan, Duke of Montbazon."
François bowed to the man with the drooping eyes.
"Your Highness."
"Delighted to meet you, Monsieur."
The prince then indicated the man with the leather portfolio. He stepped around the table and came to stand opposite the major.
"Next, this is Monsieur Tolosan, Introducer of Ambassadors to His Majesty."
"Monsieur," said François, bowing deeply.
"Delighted to meet you, Monsieur."
François would have liked to ask him exactly what the office entailed. He could guess at its general purpose from the title alone, but he held his tongue, preferring to wait until the introductions were complete.
The Prince of Guéméné continued with a gesture towards the short man with the pear-shaped face.
"Monsieur Le Moyne, Commissary General of the Navy at the port of Rochefort, who is representing the Ministry of the Navy today."
Then he indicated the man who resembled a dry branch.
"And Monsieur Vaudrey, First Clerk to the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs."
Both men greeted the newcomer politely.
Once the introductions and initial courtesies had been exchanged, François turned to the man who had aroused his curiosity the most.
"Forgive my ignorance, Monsieur Tolosan, but could you explain precisely what your duties involve? What exactly is an Introducer of Ambassadors?"
The man, whose face was hardly welcoming, took no offence at the question. In fact, it brought the faintest hint of a smile to his lips, though this did little to soften his features.
"Certainly. My role is to escort ambassadors and foreign princes into the presence of His Majesty, whether for a public, private, or secret audience. It is an important office in the organisation of royal audiences, and one that I believe dates back almost as far as the earliest rules of protocol governing relations with foreign powers."
"Oh. That must be a rather demanding responsibility. Are you the only one entrusted with these duties?"
"There are two of us who hold this office, but we serve in six-month rotations. Fortunately, we have an assistant to help us."
François could not help thinking of his own aide.
"Only one assistant? Your workload must still be considerable. Do you nevertheless manage to find a little time for yourself?"
François had asked the question with a touch of humour, but Tolosan did not seem to notice. He answered with complete seriousness.
"I serve His Majesty. It is an immense honour. Everything else is secondary."
Wondering whether he had made a mistake by attempting to joke with this man, François cast a quick, slightly nervous glance towards the others. None of them, however, showed the slightest change in their demeanour.
"As you are no doubt aware," Jean-Baptiste Tolosan continued, adopting a formal tone rather like that of a teacher addressing his class, "court protocol is complex and must be observed with the utmost rigour. This is as much a matter of preserving the King's image as it is of ensuring that those received by His Majesty are presented in the proper light."
François took a moment to consider these words before raising his head.
"I see. If I understand you correctly, Monsieur, you are not merely responsible for ensuring that we observe the protocol on our side. You also instruct those we receive. In your own way, you are therefore a representative of His Majesty to foreign ambassadors and princes."
Tolosan nodded.
"You have understood and summarised my duties perfectly, Monsieur."
His gaze drifted towards one of the open files on the table before him.
"The matter before us today does, however, present a few particularities. Given the importance of this reception and His Majesty's intentions, certain adjustments will be permitted. We must also take into account the cultural differences between our peoples. That is partly why I am here. Naturally, I cannot remain away from Versailles for too long."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"I also wished to meet the representatives of these Indigenous nations in person. It is essential that everyone understands what awaits them during the audiences and official ceremonies, and knows how they are expected to conduct themselves. Governor Vaudreuil has assured me that this is already the case, but I cannot content myself with promises."
He concluded his explanation by looking François straight in the eye.
"There, Monsieur. Have I answered your question?"
"Perfectly. Thank you for clarifying the matter, Monsieur."
With the conversation at an end, the Prince of Guéméné was about to invite the Major of Montrouge to take a seat so they could get down to business, but his father interrupted him.
"Tell me, Major, is that indeed the Cross of the Royal and Military Order of Saint Louis that you wear upon your chest?"
The major looked at the duke, raised an eyebrow, and brought a hand to his chest, where his medal rested. A faint, proud smile appeared on his lips as he straightened slightly.
"Ah, indeed, Your Highness. I had the honour of receiving this distinction for the services I rendered during the last war."
The Duke of Montbazon, a title he had inherited in 1757 upon his father's death, leaned forward to get a better look at the decoration. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. That small change in expression made him look several years older, deepening the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes.
"Really? How interesting. Unfortunately, I was never granted that honour, despite having taken part in a few military exploits of which I have no reason to be ashamed. You have certainly piqued my curiosity. Perhaps you would be willing to share some of your wartime memories with us over dinner this evening?"
"Ha ha! I would be delighted, Monsieur."
The young Prince of Guéméné cleared his throat discreetly, seizing the opportunity to bring the conversation back on track.
"Very well. If you will allow me, gentlemen, I suggest we get down to work. We have a great many matters to discuss, and the day is not long enough for us to linger over them. Monsieur Le Moyne, Vaudrey, and Tolosan still have to formally welcome our guests."
The six men took their seats in the armchairs arranged around the central table.
The Prince of Guéméné summoned the servant waiting behind the door and had a steaming cup of tea brought to each of them. A delicate fragrance soon filled the room.
Guéméné took the seat to François's right.
The latter picked up his cup, raised it, and examined it. It was so beautiful and delicate that he would hardly have dared use it for fear of breaking it by accident. He brought it timidly towards his lips.
Before they could even touch the liquid's lovely amber surface, he realised he would not be able to drink it just yet. The tea was far too hot.
François carefully returned his cup to its saucer, handling it with the utmost delicacy.
"First of all, Major," Monsieur Le Moyne began, "allow me to welcome you to Paris on behalf of the Ministry of the Navy. Did your journey proceed under favourable conditions?"
Naturally, he already knew the answer.
While the delegation had been staying in Brest and touring its harbour facilities, correspondence had passed between the naval intendant and the Comte de Boynes. The latter had thus been informed of their arrival, the conditions of the crossing, and the latest news brought from New France.
"As well as we could have hoped, Monsieur Le Moyne," François replied. "The crossing was long, but conditions remained excellent from beginning to end. The presence of the two frigates assigned to escort us also gave us considerable peace of mind. As for the journey from Brest, it passed without any major incident."
"And the members of the delegation?" asked the representative of the Foreign Ministry. "Was the journey not too arduous for them?"
"Almost all of them were seasick during the crossing," the major admitted, "but nothing serious. The sickness eventually passed once they grew accustomed to the motion of the ship. They arrived in Brest quite exhausted, but the week they spent in the city allowed them to regain their strength before setting out again."
Anticipating the next question, he added:
"They were very grateful for the welcome they received, and even more so, I believe, for the final stages of our journey. They seem to have been greatly impressed by the châteaux of Amboise, Blois, and Chambord."
"Excellent," Vaudrey replied. "We were determined to ensure that their arrival in the capital took place under the best possible conditions."
Le Moyne clasped his hands before him.
"That was also why the Ministry of the Navy proposed this route. It would have been regrettable if our guests' first impressions had been disappointing, with nothing to see but unremarkable villages and fields."
François noticed a silent exchange between the representatives of the Duc d'Aiguillon and the Comte de Boynes. It was rather like watching two employees trying to claim all the credit for a joint undertaking in front of their superior.
Le Moyne cast a brief glance towards the Prince of Guéméné before continuing.
"In the same spirit, we have arranged for the members of the delegation to be accommodated here, at the Hôtel de Soubise, throughout their stay in Paris. The residence is spacious enough to house the chiefs, their interpreters, and their other companions without requiring everyone to sacrifice all privacy."
"On that subject," François interjected, "I would like to thank you, on behalf of the delegation, for opening the doors of your home to us."
"Think nothing of it, Major. It is an honour for my wife and me to welcome His Majesty's guests."
Claude Vaudrey cast a quick glance towards Tolosan before turning his attention back to François.
"We have also made a few arrangements to ensure that their stay proceeds under the best possible conditions. The household servants have been informed of our guests' arrival, and we have explained that they may have certain customs that differ from our own. We have therefore asked them not to be surprised by anything they might see. They are to continue performing their duties as usual, without indiscretion or inappropriate remarks."
"Thank you," François replied, inclining his head politely. "I believe I can say that the arrangements made for our reception have already been greatly appreciated."
The Prince of Guéméné, who was still holding the handle of his teacup without having brought it to his lips, then turned towards the major, his expression serious.
"There is, nevertheless, one point on which we must reach an understanding. It is important that everyone should be aware of the limits of our hospitality. This is a private residence, only part of which has been placed at the government's disposal. Certain rooms remain reserved for my family and our personal guests."
"Naturally, Your Highness. I understand perfectly."
"The delegation will occupy the second floor of the east wing. The interpreters and other companions will be lodged on the first floor, in rooms in the same wing. All diplomatic gifts will be stored separately in a secure room. As for the grand reception rooms, they will only be accessible during receptions or when an invitation has been extended."
"I will make certain that everyone is informed, Your Highness. The chiefs understand that they are guests of your family and that they must respect the rules of the house."
The prince did not seem entirely convinced. He appeared to doubt whether men who lived so far away, beyond the reach of European customs—or, some might say, in a primitive manner—could truly understand what a residence of such importance represented, or appreciate the full weight of its name.
He nevertheless kept these thoughts to himself.
"I have no doubt of it, Major. But it is always better to prevent misunderstandings. The customs of a great French household are not necessarily self-evident to visitors who are discovering our society for the first time."
François was not quite sure how to respond. He understood the need to establish certain rules, but the prince's tone and choice of words left him with an unpleasant impression.
They may not understand why a family needs such an enormous house, with so many rooms. That's possible. But that doesn't mean they have no idea what privacy is. Does he seriously imagine they're going to wander wherever they please, claim every room for themselves, and start singing in the gardens in the middle of the night to summon spirits?
He nevertheless kept his thoughts to himself and gave nothing away.
"I understand your concerns perfectly, Your Highness. I will make certain that no one enters areas to which they have not been given access."
The representative of the Ministry of the Navy extended a small, plump hand and slid a file across the table towards himself. He then turned it around so that it faced the right way.
"Since we are discussing arrangements, I suggest we begin by reviewing the programme for the coming days."
Everyone nodded in agreement.