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The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 57
🕑 Added 2025-03-04 20:07:01 +0000 UTCChapter 57: Madame Saint-Bellon
Joseph had no intention of interfering too much in the detailed preparations and organization of the Intelligence Office. He was an outsider in such matters, preferring to leave the work to those with expertise while ensuring he controlled the broader direction.
The members of the Intelligence Office watched the Crown Prince depart, their expressions filled with eager anticipation.
Truthfully, when Prosper and the others first learned that the Intelligence Office would be under the jurisdiction of the police system, even nominally, they were quite dissatisfied. Initially, they had all thought they would be transferred to serve in the Royal Guard.
However, upon learning they would receive a generous salary sufficient to ease any grievances, all dissatisfaction vanished instantly, replaced by a surge of enthusiasm.
...
The Duke of Orléans returned to the Palais-Royal with a relaxed smile on his face.
Just as he was preparing to bring down Brienne, news came from the Parlement that the latest tax reform proposal submitted by Brienne was extraordinarily harsh, showing no regard for the feelings of the nobility.
The Parlement had rejected the proposal outright before even completing its procedural review.
It was as though divine providence had arranged it! This was the perfect opportunity to deal with Brienne! At the recently concluded soirée, the Duke had effortlessly completed all his arrangements.
First, he secured the support of influential grandees.
These nobles would spread the word that Brienne's policies only harmed their interests and labeled him as the enemy of all nobility, rallying their class to resist Brienne's reforms resolutely.
Then, he forged alliances with the Minister of Justice and the Minister of Foreign Affairs, who agreed to unite in the next cabinet meeting to propose Brienne's dismissal on grounds of incompetence and lack of progress on the tax reforms.
Simultaneously, the financial sector would play its role, releasing rumors criticizing Brienne’s ignorance of economics and asserting that only the great banker Necker could save France’s finances. The banking industry would throw its unwavering support behind Necker and pledge their full cooperation in economic improvements.
Under such coordinated and relentless attacks, the Queen would have no choice but to abandon Brienne to stabilize the political situation.
Once Necker ascended to power, everything would return to the Duke’s control!
The Duke of Orléans walked briskly through the east corridor toward his study, but a peculiar sound suddenly caught his attention, causing him to stop. He turned toward his son’s music room.
The doors to the music room were tightly shut, but the noises grew clearer. He frowned and glanced at the distant guards. One of them immediately lowered his head deeply and muttered, "I... I know nothing..."
The Duke called out loudly toward the music room, “Philippe, are you in there?”
Inside, there was an abrupt clattering of sounds.
Moments later, the door was pushed open, and a woman, nearly thirty, with a voluptuous figure, hurried out in a fluster. She was none other than the piano teacher of the Duke’s son.
Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled, and her dress haphazardly thrown on. She curtsied to the Duke before slipping away along the wall.
Entering the room, the Duke found his son with his shirt buttons all mismatched. He immediately pointed at him and reprimanded, “How many times have I told you not to involve yourself with such lowly creatures! You can easily seek out young ladies of noble birth. They would be more than willing to—”
Young Philippe averted his gaze but interrupted defiantly, “Those little girls cannot compare to Madame Horlat’s charm!”
“You!”
Philippe shrank back and hurriedly fled the room.
The Duke of Orléans was about to lose his temper but suddenly recalled his own indiscretions with the household maids when he was his son’s age.
He sighed, shaking his head. How could boys of this age resist the allure of experienced women?
Speaking of allure and sophistication, the Duke’s thoughts immediately drifted to the striking figure from the soirée earlier—Madame Saint-Bellon.
An enchanting and irresistibly seductive beauty, every pore of her being exuded temptation. Countless noblemen had lost their hearts to her. She had no fewer than six or seven lovers.
If a boy like Philippe encountered her, his thoughts would undoubtedly become consumed by such matters.
The Duke suddenly chuckled coldly. That licentious woman likely did not know one of her lovers, Count Kappfeil, had recently contracted syphilis.
Just two days ago, during a hunt, Count Kappfeil had bragged about his intimate escapades with Madame Saint-Bellon, unaware that he had been diagnosed with syphilis earlier that same day.
This meant it was only a matter of time before the woman became riddled with sores and reeked of death, shunned by everyone.
Though syphilis was often a topic of bragging among the nobility, everyone secretly knew it was a terrifying and fatal disease.
The Duke of Orléans knew well that King Louis XV himself had succumbed to the disease.
Oh, if only the entire family could perish from this loathsome illness! He cursed fiercely but then froze mid-thought, as though struck by inspiration.
"Yes! Let them all catch it!" His eyes gleamed with delight. “That boy won’t be able to resist Madame Saint-Bellon’s charms, and she will infect him. Yes, that’s the way!”
He pondered the plan meticulously, confirming that it had a high likelihood of success and posed no risk to himself even if it failed.
Without delay, he summoned his steward and gave him whispered instructions.
“Yes, my lord.”
...
A few hours later, at Madame Saint-Bellon’s residence, Viscount Valéan was speaking excitedly, “He said that if you can seduce the Crown Prince, you’ll receive fifteen thousand livres!”
Madame Saint-Bellon wrapped her slender arms around his neck, her eyes glinting seductively. “So much money? Who is this generous benefactor, and what does he want?”
Viscount Valéan dared not reveal the Duke of Orléans’ name, merely waving it off. “Don’t concern yourself with that. The benefactor wishes to align with the Crown Prince and needs insight into his movements. All you have to do is get close to the Crown Prince and report on his activities, and you’ll receive additional rewards.”
Madame Saint-Bellon was evidently intrigued. Seducing a thirteen-year-old boy was practically child’s play for her, a seasoned seductress. She might even gain rewards directly from the Crown Prince.
The French court was rife with scandals. Even affairs with the King were not unheard of, and nobody would bat an eye.
She suddenly lamented that she hadn’t thought of this path earlier—it was a huge oversight on her part.
Giggling, she brushed her nose against Valéan’s cheek, cooing, “Won’t you feel jealous, pushing me into another man’s arms?”
He pressed her onto the velvet mattress, lowering his lips to hers. “Why would I, when I can still come to you?”
“Oh, you’re so naughty…”
...
The next day, in Queen Marie’s music hall.
A group of noblewomen surrounded the Queen, chatting idly about various scandals as soothing music played.
The Queen’s lady-in-waiting, Countess Debonnénac, suddenly suggested, “Next week is Saint Nicholas Day. Shall we hold a masquerade ball as usual?”
Standing on the edge of the gathering, Madame Saint-Bellon perked up. If the Crown Prince was to attend the Saint Nicholas Day ball, this would be her chance.
Flashes of her vast romantic experience danced in her mind as she immediately laughed and called out, “Every masquerade ball is the same each year—surely everyone is bored of it by now. This year, I have an idea!”
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