Marie Antoinette (10 page)

I must not have been concentrating because I was caught unawares. “What off?” I said. “What are you talking about?” Then Lulu’s face turned dreadfully dark and her eyes seemed to swim behind seas of tears. “You don’t know, Antonia? They didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I asked. And I was suddenly filled with a terrible fear. Then she told me herself. Her leg is diseased. The Court surgeons want to cut it off. I gasped. If they cut it off, they feel, they can save her life. But she is frightened of the pain. They could give her only so much wine and strong spirits to make her senseless, but she would still feel the knives.

I could scarcely breathe as Lulu told me this story. This was so unimaginable to me. It was as if some terrible enemy grew within her own body. I always thought of enemies on the outside like Frederick of Prussia, The Monster. This thing that grows in dear Lulu’s leg . . . Oh, I cannot bear to think of it any longer. What would I do? Would I ever be brave enough for the pain, and if I were could I bear the thought of being so mutilated?

February 23, 1770

Lulu died last night. They did not tell me until this morning. But I knew. A few minutes after midnight Schnitzel, who sleeps at the foot of my bed, began whining in his sleep. It woke me up. Everything was black. The last candles had guttered out, but one single shaft of moonlight pierced through the shutters and fell like a shard of ice on my floor. Something drew me to the window. I crawled out of my bed barefoot and ran across the cold wood. I looked out. The moon hung in the sky like a little scrap of fingernail. It was too little moon to cast so much light. Just a sliver, but in that moment I knew somehow that Lulu had passed from this earth. “Godspeed!” I whispered. And I could almost see her dancing through the night, her lovely legs all well and perhaps doing a Scottish reel right up into the stars. Oh yes, I shall imagine her prancing across the back of the Great Bear constellation, gliding up to the Swan and the Archer and all the starry figures of this winter night. If there is music in heaven, Lulu will find it and the angels will play better once she is there.

February 24, 1770

Mama has declared a two-week mourning period for Lulu. The period is to end right before the winter ball, but I am excused from going to it. For this I am grateful. Mama keeps saying we must carry on, even though I do know that she is quite sad, for she cared greatly for Lulu. But right or wrong I have a place in my heart for both these dear souls I have lost within the space of a month and I shall not simply carry on, but carry their memories with me until I am in my own grave.

March 1, 1770

It has been just one week since Lulu died, but Mama has already picked her replacement. Countess Krautzinger was waiting for me in my apartments when I returned from my riding lesson. I must say I think Mama could have given me a little warning. It is a shock to come back and find someone sitting in one’s favorite chair by the fire directing one’s chambermaid to “move quickly and fetch more tea and call for more kindling, and do find the claret bottle. What, there is no claret in the Archduchess’s apartments?”

“I like not the claret.” Those were my first words to the Countess. And the next words I had no need to say. They were silently spoken. How dare you come into my apartments and sit in my chair and order about my chambermaid and demand claret? Something amazing happened to me. I felt myself grow several inches in the space of seconds. The timbre of my voice changed. I know my eyes turned ice blue. I became in those fleeting seconds a Queen. And the Countess knew it as well. She immediately leapt from the chair and curtsied. “I am to be your new governess–Grand Mistress, My Lady,” she whispered. And I replied, “It seems that I am not the only one who shall be learning.” Brunhilda, my daytime chambermaid, nearly dropped the plate she was carrying. I quickly dismissed the Countess and then sat down and wrote in my finest hand a note to Mama.

My dear Majesty,

I was alarmed to find in my apartments this afternoon the Countess Krautzinger. She had made free with my quarters, sitting in my favorite chair and commanding my chambermaid in a manner that was most offensive. I regret that you did not see fit to inform me that the Countess would succeed my beloved Lulu, but I am even more disturbed that you would deem her to be an adequate Grand Mistress, considering her arrogance and complete lack of sensibility. I think that I shall not learn much from her, and she stands to learn a great deal more from me.

Most respectfully, your daughter

March 2, 1770

I received today the most astounding note from Mama. I paste it here in my diary.

Daughter, Bravo!

You have excelled in the most important lesson I have put to you thus far; indeed, you have exceeded my expectations. Kraut is a fraud and a hypocrite. You have seen right through her and so quickly. Her arrogance is her shield for a weak character. But study her, for there will be many like her at Versailles. I have arranged for you to take card-playing and gambling lessons from her. She will not tell you how she cheats but it will soon become apparent. You shall then be able to detect these behaviors in others and ban them from your gaming table. Do you not find her wart most interesting?

Most sincerely, your affectionate mother, Maria Theresa of Habsburg, Empress of the Holy Roman Empire, wife of your beloved late father, Emperor Francis of Lorraine

Postscript: Your hand has improved immensely and your spelling is flawless!

March 4, 1770

I do not know how I ever missed the wart on the Countess’s nose. (I think of her now as Countess Sauer Kraut.) I must have been so upset by her behavior the first time I met with her that I completely lost sight of it. But there it is — large, red, and with a small hair growing out of it. It seems to have a life of its own, especially when we play cards. I think it twitches when she gets a good hand. It is most distracting, so I don’t imagine I shall soon figure out how she cheats at cards. Of course she has been letting me win, I think. No real money is being played for, however. Perhaps I shall suggest we raise the stakes and then I’ll try to concentrate on her tricks.

March 8, 1770

I suggested raising the stakes two days ago. The Countess continued to let me win until today, and today she won in a most large manner. Mama would be shocked if she knew how much money I lost. But I plan to continue, for I am sure I shall find out her tricky ways. I have told Elizabeth what Mama said and how I think the Countess now begins to cheat. Elizabeth has agreed to play, too, and to back me with more money if I need it. She is intrigued. Elizabeth has always enjoyed word games and puzzles. Thus she is fascinated and challenged by this.

March 12, 1770

Neither Elizabeth nor I can figure out how Sauer Kraut does it. She is devilishly clever. She lets us win just enough to keep us going so as not to be bored. Elizabeth has figured out the pattern. We are allowed to win a few hands at the start. Then she takes over in a streak of wins. Then if our interest flags, she lets us win again. Our interest really does not flag but Elizabeth and I decided to feign it so we could test to see if this indeed was the pattern. But then today Abbé de Vermond joined, and he put a gold piece on the table right off. You should have seen Sauer Kraut’s eyes glitter! Needless to say, Countess Sauer Kraut broke her pattern and won the first hand.

March 17, 1770

My life these days seems to be spent either at the gaming table or the riding school. I must admit that I am getting sick of cards. Neither Elizabeth nor I can figure out how Sauer Kraut does it. When we sit at the gaming table it all seems lies and deceit. I have even begun to suspect that Abbé de Vermond might on occasion cheat when he plays with us. That perhaps is the worst part of this — one starts to suspect everyone. The air is so still, the apartments seem stuffy. The dust motes circulate in a slow minuet in stale shafts of sunlight. But in the riding school it is an entirely different world. The air is nippy. The chandeliers sparkle. The horses are so true.

March 18, 1770

I caught Sauer Kraut today almost ready to swat Schnitzy. I was so mad. I wanted to scream at her, “So you not only cheat at cards, you abuse animals.” But I didn’t say that, for we want to learn her cheating tricks. However, I did say that if I ever catch her lifting a hand again against Schnitzy or any pet of the Court, I will go directly to Mama. Everyone knows that Mama cannot abide people who are cruel to animals. Sauer Kraut turned white. Her face was frozen in fear.

March 20, 1770

Not feeling well today. My throat scratches. Courtiers from Versailles are infesting the Hofburg. All the final plans are being drawn up. Dates are set. My proxy marriage shall take place on April 19. Two days before, on April 17, I must sign what is called the Acts of Renunciation, whereby I promise never to claim the throne of the Holy Roman Empire.

The French wear entirely too much perfume. One can smell them coming kilometers away. And my brother Joseph, who is certainly a very sensible fellow and not a dandy at all, claims that one of their “blasted beauty marks” fell into a dish of soup he was being served. How this would have happened I know not. But not only do the women wear the little dark spots at the corner of their mouths or high on their cheeks but so do the men! I hope Louis Auguste does not wear one.

March 21, 1770

Have a high fever. Too sick to play cards or take my riding lessons.

March 22, 1770

Elizabeth came to visit me today and I thought I smelled some of that horrid French perfume on her, so I asked. “No” she replied. “But they all hover in the corridor outside your apartments.” I became alarmed. “Am I to die? Is that why they hover?” I cried. She told me of course not, but that the French are often hysterical and consumed with fears about health and bodily functions. They talk, she tells me, unceasingly about their livers.

March 25, 1770

Elizabeth has figured out how Countess Sauer Kraut cheats. On her right hand she wears a large emerald ring. Apparently in the setting on the ring she has either a tiny pin, or perhaps it is just a rough point on the gold in which the emerald is set, but it allows her to prick the cards and thus mark them while she is playing. Elizabeth says she knows just how to mark them so that there is a very slight imperfection on the outside of the card in the design somewhere. Only a very sharp eye could see it, but Sauer Kraut has very sharp eyes!

March 26, 1770

Sicker today. The doctor has come twice and Mama has ordered away all the French courtiers who hover outside the door. I cannot write anymore because my head hurts so much.

March 31, 1770

Finally better, but Mama insists I stay in bed. For tomorrow the first of the official delegations of Vienna arrive to offer their formal congratulations to me. She wants me to look healthy and rested. I am only allowed up for my fittings for the gown in which I shall receive them. Herr Riding Master Francke sent an immense bouquet of lilies for me from Cabriole, my favorite horse.

April 1, 1770

Will write about the delegations later. Their arrival paled next to another, seemingly lesser, event that went unnoticed except by a few. We caught Sauer Kraut outright cheating. Oh, I should not claim the honor. It was not me, nor Elizabeth. It was Schnitzy! Schnitzy often sleeps under the gaming table as we play. Well, yesterday evening he was under the table and we heard him gnawing on something. I thought it was his favorite drumstick that the cook gave him last fall. But it wasn’t. It was Sauer Kraut’s shoe, which she had removed under the table. She often talks about her bunions and her sore feet. So she often excuses herself for removing her shoes. She bent over to retrieve the shoe and we heard a little yelp. Sauer Kraut rose up, her face not white but beet red, her eyes a livid greenish brown. Then we heard a terrible shriek and the table seemed to lurch. She had kicked Schnitzy. Schnitzy ran out from under the table with her shoe, and out of the shoe came two trump cards! The fiend! She has been hiding trumps in her shoes all these days. So not only does she mark the cards, but when her luck is really out she substitutes others! Is that not shameful?