Newton's Cannon Read Online Free Page A

has begun.”
    Louis snapped his eyes open. “Good morning, Bontemps,” he said, attempting a smile. He shook his head, gazing at the lean, fiftyish face looking down at him.
    “Are you ready, Your Majesty?” he asked.
    “Indeed, Bontemps,” he said. “You may admit whom you wish.”
    * * *
    The morning
lever
continued. His doctors came in and inquired about his health. When the chamberlain admitted the first of the courtiers—the ones who had earned invitations to the
grande entree
through diligence—Louis found himself dreading their presence, their fawning submission, their requests.
    He felt that way until he saw Adrienne de Mornay de Montchevreuil among them.
    “Mademoiselle,” he exclaimed, reaching to embrace her. “To what do I owe this exquisite pleasure?”
    Adrienne returned his embrace and then curtsied. “I am well, as I always am in your presence, Sire.” Her smile was as flawless as a perfect ruby. “I hope Your Majesty is well.”
    “Of course, my dear.” He smiled and cast his eyes over the remainder of the courtiers, all young men, all with that hopeful light in their eyes, all wondering what advantage they might be able to extract from this dear girl.
    Adrienne wore the uniform of Saint Cyr, the simple gown with black ribbons that showed she had achieved that school's highest rank—just as she had always dressed when she was his late wife's secretary. Louis generally disapproved of such informal dress, demanding that the ladies wear the
grand habit
, but Adrienne's clothing suited her as the clothing of the court ladies did not. It matched her thoughtful features and wide, intelligent eyes. She wore the uniform, he suspected, as a badge, a quiet proclamation that she had attended the school and had passed all of its tests. It meant that she was as educated as any woman in France, and more so than most. Louis was suddenly suspicious that she wore the gown also to remind him of how dear she had been to his wife. What was she about, this young woman?
    “It is good to see you,” he said. “Your letters comforted me greatly after the queen's death.” That would let her know that he had been reminded, and she would now press the advantage she believed she had.
    Adrienne continued to smile, a faint grin not unlike that on the
Mona Lisa
, which hung across from his bed. “As you know,Sire, I have taken up residence at the Academy of Sciences, serving the philosophers there.”
    “Ah yes, Paris. How do you find it?”
    Her smile broadened. “As you do, Sire: stifling. But the work of your magi is most fascinating. Of course, I understand little of what they do and say, but nonetheless—”
    “I, too, find their theories incomprehensible, yet their results are to my liking. They are a great resource to France—as are those who serve them.”
    She bowed her head. “I shall not waste Your Majesty's precious time, but I will tell you that I did not come to ask a boon for myself. There is a member of your academy, a certain Fatio de Duillier. A most remarkable man—”
    “Near to your heart?” Louis asked, a trifle coldly.
    “No, Sire,” Adrienne replied quite strongly. “I would never bother you on such an account.”
    “And what does this young man desire?”
    Adrienne caught his shifting mood, his growing impatience. “He has tried for many months to receive an audience with Your Majesty and failed,” she said. “He wished only that you receive a letter from him.” She paused and looked him in the eye, something that few dared to do. “It is a short letter,” she finished.
    He considered her for a moment. “I will receive this letter,” he said at last. “This young man should know how fortunate he is to have your favor.”
    “Thank you, Sire.” She curtsied once more, understanding that she was dismissed. A sudden thought struck Louis, and he summoned her back.
    “Mademoiselle,” he said, “I am planning a small entertainment on the Grand Canal several afternoons