Book III: XIV

Part I: The God-Given (II)

"That is a lot of girls," I said. "Philippe is my only brother."

"He is little," Louis said.

Philippe gave him a mean look before pulling Diane's hair.

"Philippe, stop," I said. "That was not very nice."

"No, it was not," Diane said, hitting Philippe on the arm.

"Françoise," Louis said. "You cannot hit him. He is a Prince."

"That is right," Philippe said, hitting her back.

She hit him again.

"Mine is two," Louis said, pulling her away.

"So is mine," I said, holding Philippe back. "They are still babies."

"I am not a baby," they said in unison.

"Come," I said. "We can go play in the garden. We have a puppy out there. His name is Joujou." Holding the hands of our respective siblings, we went out to play.

**** **** **** ****

On the day of my baptism, I entered the chapel with my mother. Philippe was to remain behind in the pew with our governess. As always, Philippe had other ideas. He managed to escape her grasp and follow me down the aisle to the altar. Our father was waiting for us beside the font. His skin was pallid and his eyes did not seem to have the shine I remembered. He never moved from his position. He smiled at us as we met him and the priest at the altar.

It was an intimate ceremony with only important members of the household in attendance. I stood before the altar of the chapel, I knew it was a solemn occasion even as I was too young to understand its meaning. I stood with my parents before the baptismal font as the priest began to speak.

Suddenly, I heard a splash. At first, I thought nothing of it. Then I heard it again and again. I looked down to see Philippe reaching into the font. I gently nudged him to get him to stop. I should have known that would entice him to continue more vigorously. I noticed everyone trying to ignore Philippe. It was a feat that was futile to attempt. My father gently pushed my brother's hand away, and Philippe put it back. Even our father knew it was best to let Philippe have his way. So as long as he kept quiet, there was no harm done other than a slightly damp priest.

Papa did not say a word nor move through it all. He just smiled and nodded once it was over. He and Maman exchanged glances while the priest and I exchanged words before Maman took our hands and led us out of the chapel of Château-Vieux.

The next time I would see my father would be 23 days later upon his deathbed. 

**** **** **** ****

It was a quiet morning. I remember I was playing with Philippe in our rooms when our governess came in. Her face was stoic.

"Your Highnesses," she began, her voice trembling. "His Majesty wishes to see you both.

"Papa," Philippe exclaimed excitedly. "I want to see Papa."

I knew something was wrong. As I looked around, everyone in the room seemed disheartened. She picked up Philippe and offered her hand to me. I cautiously took it and she led me away to my father's room.

It was the last moment of his life.

In his room, I could smell the scent of death and feel the burden that was about to be put upon me. Though I was only four years old, I knew my presence gave everyone a feeling of helplessness and hope. When I saw my father, I was frightened at how sallow he was. Maman, Mazarin, and Bontemps held vigil by his bedside as we approached.