Free The Oracle Glass by Judith Merkle Riley

author in Paris from the highest rank to the lowest. Addresses, works, evaluations of reliability. Legras took pride in his records. Or, rather, he had taken pride in them. No matter who wrote what, a play, a sonnet, or just an epigram, they did not escape the indefatigable Legras’s records for long. Except for one.
    â€œYou have seen this work, doubtless, Legras?” asked La Reynie, tapping the little book he had been reading with a forefinger.
    â€œMonsieur de La Reynie, it has just been brought to my attention. Observations on the Health of the State —a malignant little work. I saw at once that it should be banned.” Now Legras felt his knees firmer, but his hands had lost their steadiness. He clasped them beneath the ledgers to still them, then squirmed internally as he watched La Reynie’s pale eyes take note of the gesture. The shadow of the galleys, the noose, seemed to be reflected in them.
    â€œA work of treason, Legras. It advocates the elimination of the exemption of the aristocracy from taxation and proposes instead a replacement of all taxes by a single tithe proportional to income.”
    â€œUnheard of—preposterous,” Legras managed to interject.
    â€œThis…ah, Cato…produces mathematical calculations to predict the collapse of the state due to fiscal insolvency. Listen to this: ‘While it may be truly said that His Majesty is the head of the body politic, and the lower orders the limbs, nevertheless, will not the head suffer if the feet become gangrened? Thus have we overburdened the peasantry, who create the wealth of the state through agriculture. And when the rot reaches the heart, the body must die.’ It is clear: ‘Cato’ advocates the destruction of the monarchy under the pretense of reform. This so-called geometric method is nothing but a disguise for treason. No wonder he conceals himself. Your records, Legras. I wish to discover who this Cato might be.”
    â€œI—I have not discovered precisely, but there are several possibilities—here…and here—” Legras had opened his ledger on the desk, and he pointed to various entries with a trembling finger. La Reynie looked at the pages with interest, uncapped his inkwell, and took note of several names and addresses.
    â€œPossible, but not probable,” La Reynie observed tersely. He gestured to his secretary. “Take this to Desgrez,” he said. “I want them brought in for questioning.” As the secretary left, La Reynie turned again to Legras. “And you, Legras—I want you to bring me a little more respectable list than this. See? I have already obtained the lettre de cachet from His Majesty for this Cato.” He indicated an open document lying on the desk, the seals already in place. ‘Life in the galleys.’ I need only to fill in the blank space beside the pseudonym. Now consider, I would hate to see this order gather dust. Find me the man who calls himself Cato, Inspector.”
    â€œMonsieur de La Reynie, it will be done. I guarantee it. I have an informant at the Pomme de Pin…”

SEVEN
    â€œWhat is that that they gave you?” Marie-Angélique met me at the foot of the courtyard stair, looking about her to make sure no one overheard.
    â€œA letter for you and a book in Latin, that…ah…Father might like. Do come with me today and help me read. It gets so long, sometimes, and my voice tires.” I handed her the letter, and she crumpled it into her bosom.
    â€œIt’s much too depressing to sit with Father, and I’m sure I do it badly. I can’t make him happy. Not half so well as you, Geneviève. Besides, the smell is so horrid. When you’ve read to him, why don’t you come and help me distract myself? There’s a dear little lace collar in the shop under the arch in the Galerie, and the sight of it quite cheers me up. Once I’m out of mourning, I could have the bodice of