"I see you are not armed, and unfortunately you have to have a weapon to gain access to Versailles", de Guirec said.
"Sorry?"
"You may not be of noble birth, but in order to gain access to the court of his majesty, you have to give the impression of being one. Appearances is everything."
"And?"
"You must have a sword. Unless you wear a dress", he said, which left me a bit flustered. I could feel the heat coming up in my cheeks.
For a second I thought he had seen I was not a man. I had done everything to look right. High heeled shoes, white stocking, frilly shirt. Thick layer of facial cream, and rouge on the cheeks.
"You know - the member of the clergy don't have to. You obviously didn't bring one, but the booth over there has some swords for hire", he added.
I was still dazed for several reasons. I thought the booth was for tickets, postcards and souvenirs!

*_*_*_* Mike *_*_*_*

Around Paris was a wall but sometimes not worth calling that. It was more a fence to direct goods through the gates where the tolls were imposed. It may have been exorbitant or not, but toll paid by the poor, made them even poorer. The house located where there later was going to be a hamam and a mosque, was actually a gate through the wooden wall. Thus it was fairly easy to get out of town for a single person, and I had a skilled guide in Tourette, one of those street-urchins called orphans that scavenge on the streets of Le Marais. There is a lot of talk of honour among thieves. I don't know. I could have felt safer, but I had this other ace: I was owed a favour from La Calle, the current king of “La Cour Des Miracles”, the somewhat fantastic name of the Parisian underworld.

The irony in this was that I made my mistake when getting the original documents back to its location in the Louvre. The theft of “Le traité de Madame”, when discovered would easily be covered-up by denying the facts, and changing the plans. Fortunately by then the document was back in the safe. The way down that I had planned to use was suddenly filled with soldiers. De Guirec was one of them, so he would identify me, and the game would be up. I only saw one way out, and that was by jumping from the window.
The water in the Seine is cold, colder in December than in the summer, and it was a near death experience to swim across. Fortunately the tide was coming in, making the water calmer than usual.

**** 6 weeks earlier ****
I had a French agent, who I used to get some natural tint colours such as the “Turnsole”. He had a family here, but he was unfortunately off on a business trip to Italy, was coming back in a few weeks. He had left a note saying I was invited me to Salon de Marguerite de la Sablière. Sablière means 'sand-pit', so I was not much impressed. I didn't know what it was in detail, it was one of several meeting place for the wealthy and rich, but in addition the hostess' husband was a protestant, and a source of some information, so I had received this somewhat cryptic invitation, that said "Mme de la Sablière reçoit chez elle..." (Mrs de la Sabliere receives at home). I was vaguely aware what a "Salon" was. In my correspondence with Margaret Cavendish, she had mentioned it was a custom in London and Paris, However Lady Cavendish wrote she did not find pleasure in such. So I did know at the time that this salon was the place where they discussed science, or what they called philosophy of nature. The house in Paris was not very large, but it was a separate building, while more common people were stacked on top of each other. The servants at the entrance would only turn poorly clad persons away. I was wearing such garb as was usual in the Low Countries; nothing ostentatious, so I only barely passed the muster, and then probably accepted because I spoke with a foreign accent. I was meticulously applying a fake, and thin moustache to my upper lips. It had to be thin. Thin as is normal for young men whose facial hair has just started to grow.
I entered and knew no-one. Obviously I should seek up the hostess, but she was busy with a whole lot of persons. To my right were some men, some young, some old. To my left more men, but also women, two young ones who studied me from head to toe. I still refused to wear wig, so I was unfashionable there too. I had curled my hair so it looked like a wig. I was drawn towards them, as if it was somehow safer to stand with them than with this crown of unknown men, but at the same time I knew it was not seeming for young women to be with an unknown young man, which I appeared to be. They were wearing clothes worth two months salary for a normal citizen. In my dark clothes I felt like an undertaker in a rave-party. I could hear they were not too educated, or rather, they were a bit uninformed about how the world is. Their mind was obviously not on natural philosophy. They were talking about the costume balls at Versailles, where the Duke of Orleans was dressed as a woman. One of them could tell that the late Queen Ann liked her younger son to wear dresses. Her cousin had been his playmate when they were eight or nine, and both were wearing silken dresses. They giggled.
Some men approaching them made jokes about my sad look - "triste mine". Not to be out-done, I answered that in my country it was customary to be a bit silent before being introduced, and that had the advantage of letting the mind shine by itself. I was ashamed that my accent marked me as a foreigner.
There was a hush- they were expecting one of those famous quarrels that happen in such places. An otherwise brilliant young man, but who looked like a peacock - his coat was purple and golden yellow, made derogatory remarks about foreigners lacking social grace.
"I am on my way to greet the hostess. Mind if I do that before we discuss merits and demerits?"
Slightly taken aback they let me pass, and I approached Mme de la Sabliere, greeted her with gusto, waving my hat,
"Allow me Madam to bring forward my utmost respect."
"And who are you … Monsieur...?"
"I am Van Zevenhuis - from the Low Countries"
"Fanne Sefen'us? ….” she kind of tasted the name and added “ ah oui va' Zewen'üis", and the last bit created a hush before it was echoed. Their poor reproduction of my name.
A man with an impressive wig, that appeared to be going away, turned around and suddenly jumped on me - embracing me, and then he talked in Dutch.
"At long last we meet - I am so impressed of your work".
"Sir, you have the better of me ..."
"Christiaan Huygens, uw dienar" , ( C.H. Your Servant)
I was still stunned as I met Christian Huygens at long last. As the director of the French "Academie des Sciences", he was very much venerated, so it was difficult to get some time with him. He was the protégé of Colbert, which was maybe the strongest motive I had to waste time discussing things with the second mightiest man in France. Huygens had requested me to do it.
Huygens would probably not have liked me as much if I hadn't supported his wave-theory of light.
He switched to French and announced:
"Messieurs, et mesdames, I present to you the young prodigy from my home country - Monsieur Van Zevenhuis", and he proceeded to present the persons in his entourage: The first one was a young Dane was also one of his protégés, and was a social climber, because it was recently announced that Ole Römer was the new tutor to his royal highness the prince, heir to the king. So actually a lot of the intelligentsia was protestants and foreigners, both an irritating fact to the His most Christian Majesty, Louis, the 14th that wanted to be remembered as the Sun King, and was doing his utmost to prove that French is best.

Meanwhile the rest of the audience came closer; they whispered and repeated the name
va' Zewen'üis.
Quite a change. I was suddenly the centre of attention.
Huygens then asked if I was free to defend my thesis early next week, and I agreed. Early in the week. I still had to get the meeting with the minister of trade in place.

One of the girls who gallant friend had almost ridiculed me before approached me, and asked if I was the doctor, that had managed to cure the syphilis.
"No madam - It is my brother's wife who are well versed in the art of healing, but I know how she does it!"
She blushed, and said
"I am Mademoiselle Hortence de Guirec"
I kissed her extended hand, as I had seen the other gentlemen had , and felt very foolish.
"Could you come to my house tomorrow for a medical consultation"
I was about to say “I am not a Doctor”, but opted to keep that for later. We agreed on approximate time, depending on delays at the ministry and I inquired where her domicile was located. In such circles you don't call a house a house.

After some discussion with other members of the community I was encouraged to tell about some of the wonders I had discovered. It was pretty late, so the rooms were dim, although there were hundred of candles. I then asked if the hostess was ready to perform the experiment herself. She probably had a glass of water. From the pocket of my waistcoat I took out a small vial containing some small metallic looking lumps, and with my tweezers I picked out one.
"The fluid is oil. I just have to store these pieces air-tight, and without water - as you shall see it will burn on contact with water"
I dried it in a tissue, and then I asked the lady to use the tweezers and drop it carefully on top of the water. The flames lit the room stronger than the candles, and left the congregation stunned.
I then bade them all farewell.

****
Getting in contact with Hortence de Guirec was a stroke of luck.
I found the de Guirec residence. Though they did not live in poverty, I could see they were rich, but they probably had a decent income. They only had two servants, a man and a woman. Her father worked in the war-ministry, in the Louvre. Officially I was just making a social call, so I was not allowed to be alone with the lady. She had however arranged it so that it was her grand-mother who was both half-blind from a cataract and mostly deaf, who as present. She claimed we could speak freely. I asked her why she was interested in my brother's treatment. She explained:
"I am also eating enormous quantities of chocolate, and it is making my stomach ache"
"And when you heard about this friend of yours ... "
"Yes! Madame de Coëtlogon gave birth to a child that was completely burned because she ate such large amounts of chocolate, and Mme de Sévigné complains all the time her heartburn, and I can't stop eating and drinking chocolate. My mother had the same craving for chocolate when she expected my brother, and she died later of the burn in her belly, and my father complains all the time of pain in his tummy "
The explanation got more and more frantic, and I understood that she had a problem that was difficult to express. So I started to thread carefully. Her mother had died during the pregnancy? I then asked for a sample of her urine, and I would also take a little bit of her blood.
"Oh yes a blood-letting helps a lot", she said.
I looked at her, and wondered if she was sarcastic, but not so. So I came back the next day, and took the blood, and got the content of her chamberpot, and I said the study would require some days.

Just as I was about to leave, her father came home, and there was some hub-hub because he had not requested a doctor, and he had the right to know everything that was going on in his house.

I manage to make him take some medication against his "Choleric" excesses, and that I avoided blood-letting, as I had some better products against too mucus Phlegma, and dark bile and so on, I had a look at his health too. He was worse after meals, he had so much to do. He had just last year spent a lot of energy to prove that he was indeed of noble descent to the royal commission led by the François d'Argouges, with sole purpose to find false noblemen amongst the real ones. Claiming nobility was, as you may guess, a fancy way of tax evasion. He was administrating supplies for the army. There was quite some depots to be stocked with food. in the North, and there was new recruits to be trained all over France. New muskets were commissioned, and more black powder to manufacture and import. The best saltpetre came from India, which was why the trade-post at Pondichery was crucial. The medication was working, and he was talking - talking a lot.
We also had some further discussions on the work of Baronnet de Guirec, and I got some figures that were quite alarming. The king had increased the size of the army beyond 150 000 men. There was absolutely no way he could keep that as a standing army unless start a war. Then de Guirec mentioned a treaty - a document signed somewhere in England, and which existed only in two copies...Scolopamin has this effect that the subject will talk and talk, and usually will not remember, so I could continue being social, and pretend nothing happened.

We could have talked for hours about various things, and did so, until a guy came in. He was wearing boots and leather coat, but otherwise wore silk and ruffles, and in spite of that he radiated maleness. I was almost at a loss of breath.
"Ah, Jean - there you are. Let me present to you the brilliant physician van Zevenhuis
Docteur Van Zevenhuis - this is my son - Lieutenant of the Royal Guard- Jean ArDuin de Guirec"
I was about to curtsy, and managed in a clumsy way to change it to a bow.
"Your servant" , I managed to stutter.
I also corrected the older man - doctor not yet - so in the art of healing I was a mere amateur.

Monsieur le baronet de Guirec the elder, was fairly easy to diagnose: I was certain he had an ulcer, and it explained his bad mood. I gave him twenty one pills to treat his condition. As to his daughter I was not so sure, but I said I come back some days later, and we would probably meet in the Salon of Science.

The laboratory on board was not complete, but I could do some tests. As the customs officer came to check the yacht on entry to France at Rouen he had wondered about the lab. I said that I was doing Alchemy, and expected to find the Philosophers stone in Paris. I am not sure if they were in awe or considered me lunatic.
I could not detect any chorionic gonadotropin on the chromatogaph. It is the hormone that make pregnancy tests turn blue. ... I caught myself thinking that maybe one day I would do the same test on my own... Stop - I am a guy that by mistake of this stupid gaming machine was caught here in a world that was 400 years in the past. I am a man I am a man I am. I repeated the mantra over and over again.

****
As I managed to swim across the Seine, I was helped out of the water by my crew, and you may say I was guilty of the fate that was going to hit them. I always had a booby-trap in my quarters. So in a way I sent them to their death as I ordered the yacht to reach Rouen and Amsterdam. By the third bend of the Seine, in sight of the mansion owned by the Marquis de Longoeuille, the yacht was boarded and the Captain surrendered.
“Mijnheer van Zevenhuis is not here”
“We are on the kings business. We shall search the boat ourselves”
They successfully managed to trigger the booby-trap, and the explosion was heard all the way to Paris. With a little luck they might think I was inside.

**** two weeks earlier ****

I spent quite some time at the University , La Sorbonne. I was invited to present a few lectures on various subjects. I made the last preparation for me receiving the doctor title, but one can not have all work and no fun. I overheard someone saying there was this very funny piece of comic theatre played to the west of the Louvre. Lieutenant de Guirec and his sister Hortence were actually proposing to go and see it. They were performing one of the last times of "Le bourgeois gentilhomme". Of course my French was not so perfect so the play was at times difficult to follow, but it was magnificent. The location of the theatre wasn't difficult to find: "Theatre du petit Palais," was not far from where many years later an Obelisk would stand. I was surprised how easy it was to laugh, and the music fitted the mood of the play: Pompous and measured. I managed to understand most of what was said, laughing when Mr Jourdain tries to explain how to pronounce "u" in French, and I loved it when the Mr Jourdain thought he was about to become a member of the Turkish nobility. It was a great play, just a shame the cost of running it with all musicians, and dancers made it prohibitively expensive, and whatever profit ended up with Lully.
....
The hall of the university was full of people. Students mostly, but a large assembly of gawkers too. I was totally nervous. Last night I dreamed I was being exposed as a woman, and that I was standing there stark naked in front of a congregation of professors in their robes. Only a dream - a nightmare!

I saluted the opponents, and then started by asking if I should do it in Latin, as my work was written in Latin, in Dutch as that was the language in which these ideas had generated, or French, which obviously was the language of most the audience. There was a short laughter, and the rector of La Sorbonne said that the Collegiate preferred Latin, but French was accepted, and recommended by the King, so be it as His Majesty wished.
I then explained the phenomenon of refracting light by providing a large glass recipient filled with water, and showed how the ruler I had appeared to be broken, and I explained how the theory by Sir Huygens explained the behaviour of light. as a wave phenomena, and I showed how the "camera oscura" worked, and allowed the artists to draw perfect miniatures of landscapes. I then proceeded to explain some issues with perception. I asked the gentlemen in the audience to read a message. Using various colours I had composed a message that was unreadable to most. As it turned out, one of my opponents could read it. "I will give you a Louis d'Or" - which I did. There was several other then that claimed they could read it, and I said I would give them the same if they could read the following text. "I am a charlatan" it said - one of them could which proved that he was a charlatan, and I gave the golden coins to the others. I then explained that my brother had found that some men could not truly distinguish green and red. I then went on to mention that an English professor had shown a large triangular glass-prism and its effect. He had not yet published his work, but was lecturing on the subject at Cambridge. I went over to a corner of the room, which was not precisely well-lit, and we could see the ghostly "spectrum". This effect was not new, as the richer persons in the audience had probably bought crystal from Venice, and now France or maybe they owned diamonds, and appreciated the play of colours. I then explained refraction as velocity change of light, and that it was sensitive to the media. I measured the refractive index of a diamond to be around 2 ½ , which could be used to find fakes among true diamonds - "Are there any diamond merchants in the crowd?" ( followed by laughter in the audience )
I then went on to describe an experiment that removed air from a bottle with a vacuum-pump, and I was unable to measure the change in refraction, which would indicate the the difference between refraction in air and vacuum is less than a 1/1000. Was the spectrum an aberration due to it passing trough a medium? I did then show a silver-surface in which I had made millions of small grooves, and the surface then reflected the rainbow, just as I did show them a hollow mirror that worked as a magnifying glass , and burned the paper I was holding. An experiment that fascinated the audience, but which I pointed out was not new, as it was claimed that Archimedes had defended Syracuse with such mirrors.
For three hours I lectured, and there was standing ovation at the end. My opponents had of course millions of questions, and some criticism.
I had not honoured Pierre de Fermat's work on the speed of light, and that according to him the denser the object, the slower the speed of light-wave. I retorted that the relationship was not that simple as for example Ethanol was lighter than water, and slightly higher refractive index, diamond was lighter than corundum, but significant higher index, which should support a theory, but it is obvious that the relationship is different and opposite if on compares Water to Diamond or Alcohol and Corundum. My conclusion was that refractive index is independent of density, and needed to be studied closer.

The second question was about my ambivalent stance on the nature of light. Hadn't I just proven that the wave theory championed by Christian Huygens explained the phenomena, as the corpuscular view by professor Newton was then disproved?

"Was it necessary to have a single model? Couldn't we live with two and then continue to seek the truth? In our view of the world we force things into categories: living or dead, plant or animal, yet when faced with phenomena's that are fundamental in the world it may be that theological analogues was more appropriate. Wasn't it accepted that Jesus was both human and divine? Just as I am unable to put him in one category or the other; my view is that light is both. It may be difficult to accept for some, but I have seen phenomena when studying light that cannot be explained by wave-theory alone. One problem with the wave theory is the following: speed of light is so great that the media it travels in is very stiff. If it is very stiff then we would feel the wind of this media, yet we don't. So I say that light has dual nature"
For some reason the theologians in the assembly thought that my arguments were acceptable. This was the phase that I had feared the most as it encroached on theology, and I had once consulted with a Jesuit to make sure I didn't get involved in something viewed as heretic by the church of Rome. I was only a guest in this country.

The Dean of the Sorbonne University then pronounced that my work was worthy, and I received a cap denoting I was accepted as Doctor. In return I gave him one grated silver-plate, the one that showed all the colours of the rainbow. I was offered an option to hold a lecture for some students, but it was optional.
Quite a crowd wanted to have a piece of me, but I had to find a privy somewhere.... Thank God for the F.U.D. and the long and wide coat that allowed to hide how I did it.

***** escape from Paris ****
I was through the wall when we heard the thunder in the cold night. I understood what it was. What I didn't know was that one of the sailors survived, and he told them I wasn't on-board, so the search continued.
It was risky to rely on the honour of the beggar king – the chef-coësre - and or his dukes called cagoux. I knew it was a delicate balance between the price in my head and the value of the service rendered. If it hadn't been for the heavy-handed repression of the poor by de la Reynie, the new chief of police, I think they would have preferred to hand me over. He had recently arrested and branded 200 of the men of la Grande Cour des Miracles ( the great miracle court), and sent them to hard labour,which was worse than slavery. In the operations he had also managed to arrest the daughter of the chef-coësre. To help was a risky whim, a moment of insanity. I saved her and two others, against a promise of help. I was lucky that the search for my person was a task given to the chief of police de la Reynie. The Beggar King owed me one, and wanted to hit back on De la Reynie.

I got to St Denis where one of several plans of escape led me. Karl Friedrich Zimmermann was a protestant, but Lutheran, not really a Hugenot, and he was actually from Franche Comté , and he was stuck in France, as his business was practically bankrupt, as he lost royal contracts. I had struck a deal with him: I would help him out of France and gain a decent position in Germany if he could bring me there, if possible with his family. The seeds of this deal was sown some time ago. To prevent him from selling me short, I had some incriminating evidence he had done spying on my behalf for a year or so. A message left told me they had left for Meaux

**** day after the doctoral thesis ****
I was pick up in town by the Dane, Ole Römer, who accompanied me to the observatory of Paris located in a small village called Meudon. He turned out to be a nuisance, although I tried to keep a polite face.
On my way to our meeting point, I was approached by several prostitutes, eager to sell their services, as well as surrounded by practically naked boys freezing in the November drizzle. They were called orphans, but were professional beggars, just as the prostitutes were professionals. I happened to mention this. The guy, Römer, seemed obsessed with getting rid of all the prostitutes in the street. He said that if he ever having a say in the running of a country he would do everything to teach morale to the fallen women. I was not in a mood to discuss the subject, while trying to show some Dutch tolerance. At least in Amsterdam the prostitution was off the street. I was eager to to get back home, as I was only too aware that the natural enemies of France was currently their buddy. I also knew that by now it would be a catastrophe to be discovered as an imposter. They probably would not understand my true aim for this trip, but I would most certainly be delayed. I tried to steer the conversation to a more neutral subject, such as the speed of light, and how to measure it, and we managed to have a fair discussion on how to predict when Easter occurs. Ole Römer's problem, was that he could not predict it more than a year or two in advance. I claimed it should be possible to have a computation which was reliable.

In Meudon, I was welcomed by Huygens, who congratulated me and told me that I was now famous in the right circles. I had been summoned to the royal palace at Versailles, and I was not allowed to leave the country until I had shown the wonders of science to the Queen, and her entourage. The King was unfortunately busy elsewhere. I nearly said that I knew where His Majesty was, but that would have been betraying the information from a slightly intoxicated minister. Huygens was proud to show off yet another protégé that was doing it well.
That very same night I broke into the war room of the Louvre, without being noticed, and opened the strong box where Louvois kept the treaty between the King of England and the King of France. I needed to copy it, and send it to Dutch authorities. Paul was instructed to warn de Witt.

I had a new soiré, at Madame de la Sablière, and now I was really a star. I had received a summon to appear before the Queen! That was important. I still managed to be an oaf. I made the mistake of mentioning that I had seen a brilliant theatrical ballet by Molière. I did not know that Mme de la Sablière had been offended by another piece of the same author called "The Affected Young Ladies" as she felt she was personally targeted. One man asked if it was not Mme de Scudéry who was ridiculed, which it was not as Mme de la Sablière felt she was the target. I assured our hostess that I had nothing but respect for her, and would never dream of making hopeless jokes of persons with true thirst of knowledge. Should Molière dare make fun of women and science I would personally make sure that it was proven to be wrong as women could climb to the same level of knowledge. If women was "inferior" it was mostly due to tradition - knowledge withheld girls because of fear they may know the truth, lack of encouragement because they might soil their clothes while boys were supposed to rip their stockings, and burn their coats. Meanwhile I was going to name an experiment in her honour, so her name would shine and be memorable.
While I prepared the experiment, the discussion continued, and had transitioned into questions if it was possible for women to be good generals. As they asked me I said that "leading men now requires the right birth, although I claim it requires the right kind of aptitude. Gender was considered an obstacle. Nobody expected the former queen of Sweden, Christina, to lead the armies of the country even while she reigned, though she had such an illustrious father, but shouldn't she or couldn't she? Maybe she was wise enough to leave such matters to competent men such as Thorsteinson. In the far away country of Cathay [China], two women Shen Yunying and Gao Guiying were generals only a few decades ago. Why is that an issue - even in this country that was saved when a young girl without a noble father or mother led the relief force towards Orleans?"
The discussion went high as a certain Monsieur Poulain de la Barre was arguing much in favour of gender equality. This was maybe more fuel to the discussion, which I interrupted.
Time for the wonder. I gave the hostess a bottle and then gave her instructions to shake it and not let it break. The contents started to glow, and quickly out-shone the candles in the room. (mixing hydrogen peroxide with an appropriate ester in a bottle , and you get a glowstick.). As such it was a parlour-trick, but the guests were amazed. The bottle shone for the rest of the evening, and all guests touched it to feel that it was not hot, and thus amazingly similar to the fire-fly.

***** Two days after escape ****

I waited for Karl Friedrich Zimmermann, East of Paris on the Marne, in Meaux. I waited for Mister Zimmerman for a day, and a night. I was posing as an Swiss Gentleman, with a very unfashionable large moustache, and it would have to pass the muster. I finally managed to find out that the Zimmerman family had been here, and left. I walked out of the inn, and bumped into a guy they called Le Balafré (“scarface”). He was the one in the employ of de la Reynie, that had caught that girl in Paris, the daughter of the "Parisian mafia". Stunning the guy with my “taser” had been a whim, and a pleasure, as I had seen him exploit his position as a policeman of the Maréchaussé. .

The problem was now that he had recognized me. I was sure of that, and I was in a hurry to get away.

***** a meeting with the Minister ****

The Minister is famous for having said that “It is simply, and solely, the abundance of money within a state that makes the difference in its grandeur and power.” which I also subscribe to, and "Trade is a kind of warfare", but he also said "some people claim that work was best done early in the morning, and some claim it is best done late at night. I don't know which one is right, so I do both", and he was currently working day and night to undermine my country.
At 6 clock I was in front of the building that contained his office. Even though it was almost an hour before sunrise, I was not the first in line. No wonder, as Jean Baptiste Colbert was minister of everything but war. He was recently even nominated as minister of the Navy, so in a way he was implicated in everything that mattered. I had an appointment at eight. It was six. At seven I was allowed in.

Colbert was overworked, and he happened to hear about my feat of defending a doctorate, and entertaining guests, followed by discussions with his subordinate - a schedule he admired. I said there was nothing to it. I had some secret medication to help me cope. That it was amphetamine, and cocaine and I also had benzodiazepine. I had only taken it in order to impress the greatest workaholic person. That I had to sleep 48 hours afterwards was a secret, and I was very careful with dosage, as those things are so addictive. I knew Colbert's spies would report on my schedule, so it was a major task to hide that long rest.
I had him hooked.
"Would it be possible for me and my secretary to try it out"
"But of course - Monsieur l'Intendant Général. To try it out is free!"
He tried bribery, to get me to move to France, but I was already immensely rich. Then I remember the play by Molière, and I suggested I could become a French noble. I could see he was startled. Molière's stupid Mr Jourdain was modelled on the not so stupid Jean Hérault who had become baron of Gourville. I mentioned that.
I could see the arterial pressure of the minister rise to lethal levels.
"The man is a crook -He should have been executed - He was in league with Fouquet"
"Yes - but wasn't he man-servant before he became rich, before he bought his title of baron? And I heard he just received a royal pardon?"
I could see that Colbert was still irritated.
"I have to convey your demands to the king, as only He can discuss such matters, and his Majesty is in the province inspecting the army".

The meeting in the former royal residence of Louvre was useful, as it gave insight into the lay-out of the royal castle, and at night, I came back, and climbed the walls of the building, and got to the inner court over the roof-tops. Thanks to de Guirec's babbling I had even a good understanding of the rotation of the Kings watch, and I knew which window to open to get inside the office of Letellier de Louvois, Minister of War, and the only one king Louis doted on more than Colbert. Inside this office I could without fear of being disturbed sift through the wooden cup-board that contained this nations innermost secrets. I picked what was easily identifiable, and left no clue that I had been there. The treaty with Sweden might come handy, but the Treaty between the King of France and the King of England and Scotland was much more so!
This was the secret addendum to the treaty of Dover signed by Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley-Cooper, and Lauderdale, and on the French side the signatures of de Lionne, and Le Tellier de Louvois.
My yacht could be searched, so I made several copies of the treaty of Dover, and the infamous Treaty of Madame, and sent them by different routes hidden inside dolls. It was also quite crucial that the fact that the secret was no longer secret, was not known to the French nor the English. I had to get the documents back in place. Meanwhile I had to make certain there was no suspicion against me, so I had the audience at court.

*** Next day ***
At noon I managed to get some food, and do my necessary ablution. This was again not the best day to have to stand for hours. I had to curl my hair for an hour or so, I also had to change. I can understand why men preferred a wig. I could probably earn a fortune by selling the right products to make a perm. Clothes was next. White high heeled shoes, Silk stockings tied to the knee with large ribbons. Shirt with lots of ruffles and a gold-thread embroider vest. Some rouge on the cheek. Two rings on my right hand. I almost laughed, as this was fun. I was wearing more jewellery, more make-up more frills than I would as a woman in Altena
Presentation at the court required some different clothing than just a business meeting with the minister, and a gentleman must always have clean clothes. He may not need to bathe very often, but the clothes must be changed at least twice a day. On the average three times a day. I had to rent the room where I changed. They charged a Louis'd'or for the rent of it for a few hours. That was exorbitant price, but there was little room for haggling. There wasn't many houses in the area.
Versailles was still a building-site. The gilded grate that would come later was not yet there, but there were guards and workers all over. The hall of mirrors wasn't planned yet. Maybe it would never get built?

"Au nom du Roy, Arretez" ( in the name of the King, Stop) A quite powerful voice said. He had a very strong accent, but obviously French. He was rolling the R the way Scots do in English.
“Stop doing that, Sir! I know the person inside the carriage – it is one of those foreign savants that HAS the King's and Colbert's favour, and he is here on the Queens request”
I leaned out of the wagon, and stared onto an average sized man, with moustachios. Those were unfashionable, but he did obviously not care about fads. A familiar man was approaching.
"Sacrébleu, de Guirec! Do you know this no-good foreigner"
"His name is Docteur va' Zewen'üis I vouch for him."
The young De Guirec mounted inside the carriage.
"Bonjour Doctor van Zevenhuis, that was the Capitaine-Lieutenant de Batz-Castelmore of the Garde Royal, trying to be zealous. He is also used as a policeman, and can be ruthlessly efficient. He arrested Fouquet, and he ran the clean-up during one of the rebellions in the provinces. He is quite famous”
I didn't comment. I had read reports on what happened during some protests against heightened taxation. There were rapes and hangings, and the quartered the so-called leader, but I couldn't remember the name Batz-Castelmore in any reports I read.
"I see you are not armed, and unfortunately you have to have a weapon to gain access to Versailles", de Guirec said.
"Sorry?"
"You may not be of noble birth, but in order to gain access to the court of his majesty, you have to give the impression of being one. Appearances is everything."
"And?"
"You must have a sword. Unless you wear a dress", he said, which left me a bit flustered. I could feel the heat coming up in my cheeks.
For a second I thought he had seen I was not a man. I had done everything to look right. High heeled shoes, white stocking, frilly shirt. Thick layer of facial cream, and rouge on the cheeks.
"You know - the member of the clergy don't have to. You obviously didn't bring one, but the booth over there has some swords for hire", he added.
I was still dazed for several reasons. I thought the booth was for tickets, postcards and souvenirs! I couldn't tell him of the firearm I wore under my armpit, hidden by the waistcoat.
"Tha ... Thank you"
"Just go up the stair on the right, and ask the servants for the Maréchal de Bretigny. Don't bother to ask the other noblemen. They will usually not help you, because they fear you will get an advantage they struggle to get. I will see if I can manage to join you, but you can count on my sister finding you first. She used this opportunity to be presented. I will do so myself, as father is so busy "

A tour of Versailles still requires to walk in queues. At least there were no souvenir shop, no guide branding funny umbrellas nor T-shirts. The Maréchal de Bretigny told me where and when to be so he could announce me.
There was a strange atmosphere even though the King was not present. In his absence it was Monsieur who was in charge. Behind this unassuming name “Monsieur”, which is used generally on any kind of adult male, was the Kings brother. He was Duke of Orleans and therefore completely without any power, as the King could not accept anything that smelled of competition, and yet he was due all respect. He had wedded a German princess during the summer, but I would quickly see they were not in love with each other. It was his dead wife “Madame” that had arranged for the secret version of the treaty. In Amsterdam, where all gossip could be written without censorship, somebody had written that the king's brother preferred men, and loved to go in drag. The latter was also repeated by the girls in the Salon. I would not say, as everything seemed very normal when I was there. Even Mme de Montespan who had several children with the king, was absent, thus lowering somewhat the level of tension between the Queen and the Mistress royal.

The herald finally announced:
"Le Docteur Va' Zeven'uïs"
I was supposed to bow a certain number of times, I think about five, but I thought it was kind of stupid, so I only bowed twice. No social grace, this Dutchmen. I had no intention of coming again.
As I was not supposed to get closer to the royals, I had to talk quite load, which is OK if you are a man as male voices carry well. I tried to keep "alto" level - simulating I was a tenor. Not always easy.
"I am much honoured the your royal highnesses are willing to see me. And let my introduce one of your loyal subjects Mademoiselle de Guirec, daughter of Baronnet de Guirec. She has volunteered to assist me in my exhibition of science. "
"We have heard about some of your tricks, Doctor" the Queen said.
I feigned offence at being called a trickster
"Do you want tricks Madame - then a jester, an illusionist and other entertainers are better than me. I am a person seeking knowledge, a scientist, and study the forces and effects of nature, and nothing more, nothing less
The difference is quite simply that an illusionist makes things seem to happen, and I just show the reality. A scientist is due to share his method and thus it is reproducible by other scientists If it is not reproducible it is not science. A scientist explains things that happen- and it can, ultimately, be reproduced by all and everyone"
"And Doctor Zevenhuis - are you sure you do not put a spell on us so we think that it happens"
"Your Royal Highnesses could be fooled. Everyone can, but that is why the scientists have to do and re-do the experiments done by others to check that they are not illusions. I share many of those things, while others I keep for a while. My best kept secrets are how to make colour. I have the pleasure of seeing that some in your entourage wear clothes dyed with chemicals that I have made. The colours are not illusions, though the perception of colour is not the same from person to person"
I was not keen on continuing a long philosophical debate on the truth of experiments, so I pressed on, and took out one "glow-stick" bottle, calling it “Bouteille de Mme de la Sablière”, this one would turn orange, one other that would be green. Monsieur (the duke of Orleans) approached and requested to try. I let him shake the bottles that then started to mix the hydrogenperoxide with the ester, and they started to glow. The bottles were then passed from person to person and admired. I then lit a small alcohol drenched wick, put fire to it, and they saw an almost invisible blue flame.
"This type of flame you can make at home with good French alcohol"
"While this one you only get with special kind of metal"
Into the flame I stuck a magnesium-stick. The blinding light filled the room. It would be nice to do it in the hall of Mirrors, but that one was not yet built. Using this very strong light, my assistant for the day - Mlle de Guirec pressed the button of the camera obscura, and I had a photo of the court.
"and this concludes what I have brought with me"

****** The man from Meaux ******
The grey plains in Champagne were drowning in fog. I had almost killed my horse getting to Soisson. At least it is possible to enter a town as a lone man without raising too much attention. A lone girl would be questioned, and assumed to be a whore, or a run-away servant. Not that men were above suspicion, but men were messengers or whatever, and had good reason to travel, and often travel fast. There would be highway robbers, but they would go for easy preys. I might qualify as an easy prey. In spite of the cold and damp endured, I felt the biggest challenge was to get some decent sleep. Some inns were very lax in changing sheets, and there was more than me in the bed though I paid in genuine coinage. That some of them had a rowdy clientèle was also to be expected.
I was well passed Reims, and I was feeling the closeness of the Ardennes, and the border. I knew they were looking for me, and I was very much helped by the stupidity of some guardsmen who told what they were looking for. They were certainly not thinking that it was possible that this Swiss gentleman may be the one.
I started to relax as I was only a few hours away from Sedan. I was also very tired. Many days on the road take its toll. Suddenly in front of me stood two soldiers, armed with matchlock muskets, and soon I was pretty much surrounded by more, at least the road behind me was blocked, and two men with obviously some authority stood there.
“Well, well well. That is the man I told you about, d'Artagnan The man from Meaux”
“Yes, and I recognize him. It's that weakling of a Dutchman”, his boss answered, and I recognized him from Versailles.
That was the Capitaine-Lieutenant de Batz-Castelmore. Sh** it was the infamous d'Artagnan. The fourth musketeer! I knew I was done for, yet there is no such thing as giving up in my vocabulary. I was desperate. Inside my coat I had a SMG, and as I jumped down from the horse, I shot the two that were pointing their gun at me. An SMG does not give off a lot of noise, even less smoke, and the other guys probably didn't understand what happened. In the following minutes, I killed all of them. Those with matchlock had to light their fuse, and were not a danger to me. The man with the scar tried to flee, but I shot him in the back. This was an absolute necessity, as he would have called even more men.
“Be a man”, d'Artagnan said, “and meet me with a sword.” He was struggling to believe what he had seen: a pistol that could fire multiple shots. He had heard of revolvers, but never seen one in action.
“No, no, Sir”, I replied “a sword-fight would give you an unfair advantage, and I am not a man, I am a woman. Give a thought to all the women you and your men raped a year ago in the county of Vivarais”
“I did it for my Ki...”
I shot him in the between the eyes, before he could finish the sentence. Yet another criminal hiding behind a seal of authority. I had finally admitted to a stranger I was a woman. He was not going to live to tell!
In a day or so I would be across the border, and had only the rain, damp and cold to worry about!