Chapter 58: Sarabande
Chapter 58: Sarabande
The noble ladies' gazes immediately turned to Madame de Semberant. As she presented her idea for the ball, it instantly sparked a chorus of laughter.
"I think that's an excellent idea," Comte de Polignac was the first to affirm.
Queen Marie smiled and nodded, "It's quite amusing. Let's do it that way this year."
The other noble ladies chimed in agreement, "This year's masquerade ball will surely be spectacular!"
"Madame de Semberant is truly full of wisdom."
"I plan to dance all night."
From that day on, a new face suddenly appeared in the Crown Prince's chambers.
Bewitching and charming, she drew the attention of every man who saw her—it was Madame de Semberant.
Although Madame de Semberant's status wasn't exceptionally distinguished, she was qualified to perform various minor duties in the Crown Prince's chambers. Especially after she presented some small gifts to the Crown Prince's maids, her presence could be seen everywhere, except for tasks assigned to specific individuals.
Madame de Semberant was very cunning. She would often appear with a vase or a tablecloth within the Crown Prince's peripheral vision, having other maids call out her name, yet she never allowed the Crown Prince to directly notice her.
Joseph had no idea a new maid had been added. Versailles was simply teeming with beautiful women. However, after a few days, he did start to find her face somewhat familiar.
A week flashed by, and soon it was Saint Nicholas' Day.
Under the maids' repeated urging, Joseph reluctantly emerged from his study.
Comte de Polignac, the Queen's lady-in-waiting, personally approached with a black gown and motioned for all the maids to help.
Joseph's face was even darker than the black gown. If Comte de Polignac, who was essentially the chief stewardess of the inner court, hadn't been personally overseeing, he might have already fled Versailles.
The maids clumsily removed his outer jacket and breeches. Comte de Polignac then gently slipped the black gown over his head, helped him put his arms through the sleeves, and tightly fastened the corset at the back of the dress.
Joseph was cinched painfully and quickly exclaimed, "Gentler, gentler, I'm suffocating!"
"The ball is about to begin, Your Royal Highness. Please cooperate," Comte de Polignac said, then draped a translucent silk shawl over him and took out a towering wig adorned with feathers, carefully placing it on his head. She examined him from top to bottom and nodded, "Hmm, a perfect fit."
Joseph glanced at the gown he was wearing, wishing he could pummel whoever came up with this idea. In his previous life, he had been a perfectly straight man, yet here he was, in the 18th century, forcibly cross-dressed.
Indeed, the theme of this masquerade ball was "gender swap": men would wear women's clothing as ladies, and women would wear men's clothing as gentlemen.
Joseph peered into the mirror, finding the sight unbearable. He shook his head, thinking, 'The French sure knew how to have a wild time.'
In reality, in some private aristocratic balls of that era, boundary-pushing games were rampant. Tonight's masquerade was considered quite proper by comparison.
Fortunately, Comte de Polignac did not force him to wear high heels, as those were not exclusively for ladies.
When Joseph donned his mask and arrived, like a walking corpse, at the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles, a lively rhythm of music immediately filled the air.
Twenty-four enormous Bohemian crystal chandeliers on the ceiling cast a dazzling light, illuminating the hundreds of noble "men" and "women" attending the ball, who all turned to look at Joseph.
The King and Queen had already arrived. Queen Marie, dressed in a scarlet uniform jacket and sporting a short mustache, looked at Joseph and chided playfully, "Miss, you are late."
Louis XVI, wearing a dark blue gown and holding a matching silk folding fan to conceal his face, smiled and nodded at his son.
The Keeper of the Seals, dressed as a shepherdess, came to the center of the Hall of Mirrors, delivered a series of festive blessings, and then declared the ball open.
The masked men and women began to dance to the music. Almost instantly, seven or eight noble ladies in various men's attire rushed towards Joseph, bowing and extending their hands, "Esteemed lady, may I have this dance?"
"Madam, would you care to dance with a police officer?" The girl who spoke was surprisingly wearing the latest Parisian police uniform.
"Miss, you know I was the first to invite you."
"Beautiful lady, please dance with me..."
Although Joseph wore a mask, he was clearly recognized instantly by these charming women.
According to court etiquette, at a ball, only those of higher status could invite those of lower status; the reverse was forbidden.
Moreover, it was almost always the gentlemen who invited ladies to dance, but today was a gender-reversed theme. These young women finally seized the opportunity, rushing without hesitation towards the Crown Prince, whom they had been haunted by dreams of.
Eventually, a strong "coachman" pushed the other girls aside, took the still-dazed Joseph's hand, dragged him to the center of the dance floor, and let out a forceful cough, "Ahem!"
She must have already signaled the others, as the surrounding nobles immediately paused and gathered around her and Joseph.
The "coachman" softly asked, "What dance step do you wish to perform, miss?"
Joseph was so mortified he wished he could just vanish into the ground. Following the expectant gazes around him, he could only helplessly reply, "Sarabande."
"As you command." The "coachman" gestured to the musicians, and immediately Bach's dance music began to play.
Joseph was dragged into the dance. Having only studied court dances for about a month, he was incredibly clumsy.
The musicians watched the Crown Prince's feet, desperately trying to adjust the accompaniment to his pace, but it was clearly a very difficult task.
If they had known the term "Brownian motion," they would surely have used it to describe the Crown Prince's dance steps.
Soon, Joseph stepped on the "coachman" three times and elbowed her once...
While the "coachman" rubbed her shoulder, the girl in the police uniform seized the opportunity and snatched Joseph away: "Beautiful lady, what dance step do you wish to perform?"
"Sarabande."
Joseph had no choice; he only knew that one dance.
The music started, the dance began, and soon the "police officer" gave up too, replaced by a "cavalryman": "What dance do you wish to perform?"
Joseph sighed, "Sarabande."
And so, he danced the Sarabande for nearly an hour straight. Though the noble ladies were exasperated by his clumsy dancing skills, they continued to press forward relentlessly, each eager to be first.
In a corner, Madame de Semberant, disguised as a scholar, watched wide-eyed as a large group of young women surrounded the Crown Prince. She angrily kneaded the copy of *Cartesian Geometry* in her hands.
She had proposed the idea for the ball precisely to create an opportunity to flirt with the Crown Prince, but now she couldn't even get close to him—those noble ladies were too strong!
She suddenly tossed the geometry book aside, a disdainful smile on her face. "Hmph! With such paltry skills, they think they can compete with me?"
She asked a servant for paper and a pen, pondered for a moment, then quickly wrote a note. She handed it to Vicomte de Vales and then gestured toward Joseph.
Finally, after Joseph had changed his dance partner for the tenth time, Perna, who had been silently observing him in a fitted white lab coat, couldn't bear his distressed expression any longer. She stepped forward and pushed aside a "woodsman" who was about to invite him to dance.
"Your Royal Highness's pneumonia has not fully recovered; prolonged physical exertion is not advisable."
"Ah! She's right!" Joseph exclaimed, like music to his ears. At that moment, Perna seemed like a goddess descended, radiating a sacred glow.
He nodded to her gratefully, then squeezed out of the crowd as if fleeing for his life.
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