Madame
The Moon and the SunMadame, the wife of Monsieur and mother of Lotte, is shown as a courtly figure whose wit and sturdy composure coexist with deep feeling. She supports Marie-Josèphe in a crowded royal reception, defends her from the Chevalier de Lorraine’s unwanted advances, and comforts her when Louis XIV commands her to attend a banquet. Madame’s instinct is to protect those she loves, but she also understands how little even her own forceful presence can accomplish against the King’s orders.
Identity and Court Presence
At the entrance to Apollo’s salon, Madame moves with Lotte through a room whose gilded decoration, flowers, perfume, hangings, and paintings oppress Marie-Josèphe. The courtiers’ press holds Marie-Josèphe immobile, and she follows Madame and Lotte into the crowd. Madame’s place in this scene is both social and intimate: she belongs to the royal gathering, yet her attention turns quickly from ceremony to the people beside her.
Her appearance and bearing are rendered through contrasting impressions. She is described as a portly duchess, and elsewhere she is occupied with admiring a new diamond bracelet. She can make unremitting fun of court ladies for acting younger than their years, and of herself for never bothering to fight the changes of growing older. That self-mockery makes her later emotional response to Louis XIV especially revealing: her humor is not indifference, but one way she ordinarily manages the passage of time and the demands of court life.
Lotte, Marie-Josèphe, and the King’s Appearance
When Louis XIV enters, Madame sees him in a bright blond peruke, white plumes, a flame-colored coat embroidered with gold and rubies, and high scarlet heels. She whispers to Lotte that he looks young again, as he did when young, and her voice quavers. The sight moves her to tears. Her reaction briefly overturns the self-possession that usually allows her to joke about age, exposing an intense attachment to the image of the King she remembers.
Madame’s emotion also draws her family and friends into a small act of care. When she trembles and insists that the party cannot leave because Louis XIV would not like it, Lotte offers to take her to her room. Marie-Josèphe moves beside Madame, slips a hand beneath her elbow, and supports her. Madame straightens and tries to maintain the appearance of her usual stolid self. The exchange reverses the more familiar pattern of Madame as protector: for a moment, Lotte and Marie-Josèphe steady her, even as she remains determined to stay for the King.
Wit and Protection in the Carriage
Madame’s protective instinct becomes more direct in the carriage with the Chevalier de Lorraine. As Marie-Josèphe responds coldly to him, he repeatedly moves his feet closer until her shoes press against the carriage-seat riser; he rubs his toe against her ankle while also caressing Monsieur’s thigh beneath his coat. Madame stops admiring her bracelet and raps Lorraine’s knee sharply with her fan, telling him his feet are too big and asking him to make room.
The intervention matters because Madame sees the conduct Marie-Josèphe is resisting and does not leave her to manage it alone. Marie-Josèphe’s love for Madame brings her close to tears, which she tries to suppress by biting her lip. Lorraine answers with a sexually suggestive joke about the reputation of his feet. Madame replies that his tongue is what she doubts is dainty, and Monsieur looks at her with amused disbelief. Her humor punctures Lorraine’s attempt to turn the encounter into his own performance; the fan, the rebuke, and the joke together make her defense unmistakable without dispelling the carriage’s awkwardness.
Comfort Under Royal Command
Later, guards bring Marie-Josèphe to Madame’s apartments after taking Lucien and Yves away and forbidding her to speak with either. In the dressing room, Madame stands with her arms outstretched while her ladies-in-waiting tighten her corset strings. Lotte is already dressed in ecru satin studded with topazes, and Haleed is arranging her tall, beribboned fontanges. Against this bustle of preparation, Marie-Josèphe arrives under guard, unable to escape the King’s summons.
Haleed drops the ribbons and embraces Marie-Josèphe without speaking; Lotte follows, and Marie-Josèphe clings to her sister and friend. Madame presses her cheek against Marie-Josèphe’s and calls the situation worthy of a tragic ballad. She tells her that Louis XIV is furious and commands her to attend his banquet. When Marie-Josèphe asks what she should do, Madame advises her to obey the King, adding that it is all any of them can do.
The counsel is tender, but not falsely reassuring. The guards have brought Marie-Josèphe to the apartments, and they wait outside because even Madame’s robust presence cannot counter Louis XIV’s orders. Madame can offer closeness, name the situation’s painful gravity, and tell Marie-Josèphe how to survive its immediate demand; she cannot make the royal command disappear. Her care is therefore both a refuge and an acknowledgment of constraint, joining her characteristic forcefulness to a clear recognition of the limits imposed by court power.