‘Tears will avail us little. Look, Mother, I do not think there will be more than a month’s wear in this gown even when it is turned. Is it worth the effort?’
The Queen shook her head impatiently. ‘I have great hopes of Madame de Prie.’
‘If I leave Alsace I shall take you and Father with me.’
The Queen smiled. The result of exile, she supposed, had bound the family close together. Her husband Stanislas loved his Maruchna with a love that was surely blind, for he saw her – penniless and plain as she was – as one of the most desirable parties in Europe.
‘I should be sorry to leave Alsace, though,’ murmured Marie. ‘We have our friends here.’
The Queen smiled sadly. Poor Maruchna! She had never known what it meant to live the life of a King’s daughter. She thought it was wonderful to visit Saverne, the home of the Cardinal de Rohan in Strasbourg, or that of the Comte du Bourg in the same town. It was significant of the depth to which they had fallen that the daughter of the King could be overwhelmed by the hospitality of friends such as these.
There must be a marriage with Bourbon. She and Stanislas fervently hoped for it, for the Duc was connected with the French royal house, and such a marriage would mean the end of poverty.
‘Listen,’ said the Queen, ‘I hear someone riding to the house.’ She dropped her needlework and went to the window, then turned quickly and smiled at her daughter. ‘It is!’ she cried. ‘More letters from the Duc de Bourbon or Madame de Prie. I recognise the man’s livery.’
‘Mother, do not excite yourself. It may be that the letters contain more reasons why I am not a fit bride for the Duke.’
Catherine came back to the table. ‘Oh, Maruchna, you give way too easily. One day our luck must change.’
‘Let us finish the dress, Mother. We have spent so much time on it already and if it is not going to be worth the effort, let us not waste much more.’
They were working when Stanislas, the ex-King of Poland, burst into the room.
Marie had never seen her father so excited. It was strange also that he should come upon them thus unceremoniously for, although he lived in exile on the charity of his friends, he had always endeavoured to preserve the atmosphere of a court in his household. It was true it consisted of a few, very few, noblemen who had followed him into exile and now bore the grand-sounding names of Chamberlain, Secretary and Grand Marshal; there were but two Polish priests to the household, and as there were no state affairs to be discussed, the time was spent in attending church and reading, although he had always made sure that Marie should be taught to dance, sing and play the harpsichord.
‘Wife! Daughter!’ cried Stanislas. ‘I have news. First let us go down on our knees and give thanks to God for the greatest good fortune which could come our way.’
Marie obeyed her father; Catherine looked at him questioningly, but he would say nothing until they had finished the prayer.
Marie thought, as she joined in the thanksgiving: It is strange to be thankful when one does not know for what. Is it Bourbon? No. It must be something greater than that. The greatest good fortune, he had said. That could mean only one thing.
The prayer over she looked at her father, affection shining in her eyes.
‘So, Father,’ she said, ‘you have been recalled to your throne?’
Stanislas smiled at his daughter and shook his head. ‘Better news than that. Yes, even better than that.’
‘But what could be better?’ demanded the Queen.
‘Madame,’ said Stanislas, looking from his wife to his daughter. ‘Look at our little Maruchna. Then thank Heaven for our good fortune. Our daughter is to be the Queen of France.’
The young King was not displeased to hear of the proposed marriage. He was now fifteen and eager for a wife. He had so far shown no interest in women, which was largely due to the influence of Fleury who was determined that he should not be dominated by anyone but himself.
The proposed Queen seemed as ideal from Fleury’s point of view as she did from that of the Duc de Bourbon and Madame de Prie. A girl humbly brought up, plain and meek – what could be better? Fleury was as eager to promote this marriage as were the Duc and his mistress.
The girl was twenty-one – only about seven years older than the King; and they need only wait until the little Infanta had been received by her outraged family in Spain before announcing the proposed marriage.
On a Sunday in May, Louis himself told the members of the Counciclass="underline" ‘Gentlemen, I am going to marry the Princess of Poland. She was born on June 23rd, 1703, and she is the only daughter of Stanislas Leczinska who was elected King of Poland in July 1704. He and Queen Catherine will come to France with their daughter and I have put the Château of Saint-Germain-en-Laye at their disposal. The mother of King Stanislas will accompany them.’
The news soon spread through Paris. The King to marry the daughter of an exile! It was incredible when any of the most important Princesses of Europe would have been ready to marry Louis, for not only was he the monarch of the greatest country in Europe, but he was young, and as handsome as a god. And he was to marry this woman, of whom so many of them had never heard, the daughter of an exile, penniless, of no account and some seven years older than himself.
Rumour grew throughout Paris. One day, the proposed Queen was said to be not only plain, but downright ugly. By the next day she was deformed; by the next web-footed. The marriage, it was decided, could only have been arranged by Madame de Prie because she wished to remain the power behind the throne.
Paris murmured angrily. Songs were sung in which the appearance of Marie was described as hideous. ‘The Polish woman’, she was called – the woman whose name ended in ska.
They called her the Demoiselle Leczinska and waited in rising indignation for her arrival.
Everything was changed now in the house at Wissembourg. Those who had followed Stanislas into exile wore expressions of sly content; when the Cardinal de Rohan and the Maréchal du Bourg visited the family there was a subtle change in their manner, particularly towards Marie.
Queen Catherine ceased to regret the past; she even ceased to mourn the recent death of one of her daughters; she had Marie left to her, and Marie was going to make a great change in the lives of her parents.
Stanislas was jovial, and it delighted Marie to see him thus, for the affection between her father and herself was greater than that they had for any other. They were alike inasmuch as they could accept good fortune with pleasure and bad with resignation – unlike the Queen, who had been unable to hide her grief and dissatisfaction during the long years of exile.
‘My dear,’ he told Catherine gaily, ‘now is the time to redeem your jewels.’
‘The Frankfurt Jews will never relinquish them unless paid in full,’ declared Catherine.
‘Ha, they shall be paid,’ laughed Stanislas. ‘I have lost no time in raising the necessary loans.’
‘You have done this!’
‘You forget, wife! I am no longer merely the exiled King of Poland; I am the father of the future Queen of France.’
Preparations went on at great speed. Everyone worked feverishly, beset by one great fear. What if the King of France should change his mind? It was unbearable to contemplate and it seemed hardly likely that this was to be, for news was brought to the house that Madame de Prie herself had arrived in Strasbourg and was on her way to visit Marie and her father.
Madame de Prie! How could they do enough for this woman to whom they owed everything? Stanislas had quickly made himself aware of the state of affairs in France and he realised the importance of this woman.