by Mary McHugh
“Can you believe this was once a hunting lodge?” Gini said.
“I’d forgotten that,” Tina said. “It was Louis the Fourteenth who turned it into this incredible place, right?”
“Right,” Gini said, “but he didn’t stop there. He built the Grand Trianon, another smaller palace, for his mistress Madame de Maintenon. Louis the Fifteenth and Louis the Sixteenth added on to that. The furnishings are mostly from Napoleon’s time. I don’t know if we can see it all, but let’s try.”
“What I remember most,” I said, “are the enormous formal gardens and pools and statues in back of the main palace. They went on for miles. You could never see the whole thing.”
“How about starting in the main palace,” Gini said. “Should we take a tour so we know what we’re looking at? It’s huge.”
“Yes, let’s do that,” Mary Louise said. “English-speaking, please.”
“You mean I haven’t taught you enough French to take the French-speaking tour?” Gini asked. She loves to tease Mary Louise.
“Pas encore, ma chérie,” Mary Louise said, surprising us all with her “Not yet, my dear.”
“Alors!” Gini said. “Très bien, Weezy.”
We signed up for the next available tour, and within fifteen minutes we were greeted by a chic, dark-haired woman wearing a white sleeveless dress with a pleated skirt.
“You are Americans, no?” she asked, her accent charming and delightful to the ear.
“We are Americans, yes,” Gini answered. “Only one of us speaks French—me—so we need you to speak to us in English, please.”
“Of course,” she said. “My name is Annette. Feel free to ask questions at any time.”
We followed her into the main palace’s Hall of Mirrors, a room decorated in crystal and glass that was even more stunning than when I had seen it twenty-five years earlier.
“Jan, doesn’t this remind you of the Great Hall in Catherine the Great’s summer palace—the one we saw in Russia,” Tina asked me.
“You’re right, Tina!” I said. “All glass and gold and sparkle.”
“This room was originally built by Louis the Fourteenth, the Sun King, in the seventeenth century, as a meeting place for people who came to see him, for celebrations, to impress foreign royalty and ambassadors, and as a magnificent passageway from one part of the palace to another,” Annette said. “It was restored in 2007 at a cost of twelve million euros, or sixteen million dollars. It is 236 feet long. There are 357 mirrors, and seventeen arches opposite seventeen windows. Each arch has twenty-one mirrors. When the mirrors were restored, only forty-eight of them had to be replaced. The others were put in place when Louis the Fourteenth built the palace. They are a bit smoky and distorted in places, but it’s amazing that they have been here since 1684.
“You will notice the paintings on the ceiling. They show Louis the Fourteenth’s military victories in the seventeenth century. Charles Le Brun painted some of them and supervised the painting of the others.
“This room is also historically famous because the treaty that ended World War One was signed here.
“Feel free to walk around and enjoy the view of the gardens reflected in the mirrors. You may take photographs. When you’re ready, we’ll go to the king’s apartments.”
On this hot July day, the sunlight reflected in 357 mirrors made this room, with all its chandeliers and mirrors, a vast sparkling wonderland. Each crystal and each mirror looked like it had just been Windexed to within an inch of its life. I loved the bronze sculptures that held the standing chandeliers, some of cherubs holding up the light, some of robed goddesses brightening the room.
When my eyes grew tired of the unceasingly bright glare in this room, I looked around for my friends and saw them standing by the enormous golden carved doors at one end of the Hall of Mirrors with Annette, waiting for me. I hurried up to them and said, “What next?”
“We go to the king’s Grand Apartment,” Annette said. “And grand is definitely the word for these rooms. Follow me, and I will show you what it was like to be the man the French believed was chosen by God to be king.”
We walked with her through a whole series of rooms—the Hercules salon, with a huge painting by François Lemoyne of Hercules in a chariot; the Abundance salon, where tea and liqueurs were served to guests in the afternoon; the Venus salon; the Diana salon, which Annette told us was the billiard room, where ladies were invited to watch the king play and to applaud him. “He was actually very good at it,” Annette said. Then there was the Mars salon; the Mercury salon, where Louis XIV died in 1715 after ruling for seventy-two years; the Salon of War, graced by a painting of the Sun King on horseback, defeating his enemies; and finally the Apollo salon.
We were awed by the king’s bedchamber, which was elaborately decorated with paintings and sculpture and hung with heavy red and gold drapes around an enormous canopied and gilded bed.
We talked in whispers in the Royal Chapel, all marble and gold, where Louis XVI and the Austrian-born Marie Antoinette were married when they were teenagers. Annette told us something called a Cliquot organ played when the king went to ten o’clock mass every day, and the greatest voices in the kingdom sang motets to soothe him.
“Well, he was chosen by God, after all,” Gini said in what was for her a low voice.
Annette led us into the Clock Room. “This is Passemant’s astronomical clock,” she said. “It took him twenty years to make and was finished in 1753. It’s supposed to keep time until the year 9999. Mozart gave a concert in this room at the age of seven.”
I was beginning to weary of all this pomp and gold and heavy sculpture and paintings of wars and gods and goddesses, so it was with some relief that Annette asked us if we would like to see the gardens in back of Versailles.
We were all ready for the outdoors, even though it was a hot day. The word gardens does not begin to describe what Louis XIV had done with his backyard. We walked out the heavy doors to acres of carefully manicured lawns, flower beds, straight paths for visitors to use, which actually had names, and groves. In the middle of all this beauty were two vast pools, holding elaborate fountains with sculptures representing the four seasons.
Annette described them to us. “That one is Bacchus, surrounded by dragons and leaves and vines, representing autumn. Over there is the Saturn fountain, with an old man symbolizing winter, with little cupids all around him.”
She led us to the Flora fountain. “Flora was the goddess of spring. There are flowers and fruit and more cherubs around her. And summer is represented by the Ceres fountain; she was the goddess of harvest and corn. But these are only a few of the fountains here. There’s the Apollo fountain, with horses galloping and crashing through the water, pulling him along. Apollo was the Sun God, and Louis believed he was his descendant. There’s Neptune, with a dragon and a jet that rises seven meters into the air. That large fountain over there is called the Latona fountain. She is Apollo’s mother, and she is protecting all her children from harm.”
While Annette showed us the fountains, Gini was flitting about, taking pictures of everything that moved or didn’t move in the garden. I was beginning to wilt from walking around in the heat.
“Annette,” Tina said, “maybe we should get something to eat and then see the Grand and Petit Trianon afterward. They’re about a half hour’s walk from here, right? What do you say, gang? Ready to sit down for a while, have a cold drink, and eat something?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Annette, will you join us for some lunch?” Tina, always the gracious hostess, asked.
“I have another group waiting for me,” she said. “I’ll come back for you later. Ça va?”
“Ça definitely va,” Tina said.
Annette steered us toward the brasserie nearby and waved good-bye.
There were tables outside of the restaurant, but we were all hot and sweaty and went inside to the welcome air-conditioned room. We found a tab
le for four and gulped down the water at our place settings.
“I’m so glad we did this,” Mary Louise said. “It’s even more beautiful since they redid the whole place.”
“Wait till you see Marie Antoinette’s little farm this afternoon,” Gini said. “There’s also a daytime water fountain show with music, but if you’re up for it, we could stay to see the nighttime show with fireworks, music, lights, and water shooting up into the air. It’s really worth seeing. What do you say?”
“Let’s see how we feel later,” our practical Tina said. “Right now, I’m hungry and glad to be sitting down and out of that heat.”
The menu promised all kinds of good things. I finally settled on the savory soufflé roll filled with mushrooms, spinach, ham, and cream cheese that Gini recommended. She ordered that too. Tina was in the mood for the crêpes with mushroom and bacon filling, and Mary Louise chose the shrimp, oranges, and anchovy salad.
“So have you guys called home since we’ve been here?” Tina asked. “What’s happening? Gini, how’s Alex?”
Gini smiled. Her face always changed from alert, constantly observing, to relaxed and happy whenever anyone mentioned Alex. She met him when we danced on the cruise ship in Russia when he was head of The New York Times’ Moscow bureau. They connected instantly, and he later went back to the New York office of the Times as a columnist so he could be near Gini. They talked about getting married, but something always came up to delay it.
“He’s great, Tina,” Gini said. “I miss him. “He’s trying to set up a trip for us to go to India to arrange for me to adopt that little girl I met in the orphanage when I filmed a documentary there. Her name is Amalia. I know I’ve told you how difficult it is for a foreigner to adopt an Indian child, but Alex is determined to find a way. He’s in touch with some correspondents from the Times who work there.”
Tina reached over and squeezed Gini’s hand. “If anyone can do it, Alex can,” she said. “I hope it works out, Gini. I know how much you want that little girl.”
“She’s so bright, Tina,” Gini said, tears in her eyes. “I want to take her all over the world and give her a wonderful life.”
“You’ll figure out how to do it, Gini,” Mary Louise said. “You always do.” She took a bite of her salad. “Ohhh, try this. It’s fantastic.”
My soufflé roll was a total delight, as were Tina’s crêpes. We passed our plates around for each other to taste.
“Would you guys be embarrassed if I asked for the recipes?” Mary Louise asked. “Or rather, Gini, would you be embarrassed to ask?”
“I’m used to you, Weezy,” Gini said. “They speak perfect English, of course, but if you want, I’ll ask them in French.”
“Would you?” Mary Louise asked. Nobody can ever resist Mary Louise. You always feel she asks for so little, how could you refuse her some little thing like that?
When the waiter appeared to refill our water glasses, Gini asked him in French if we could have the recipes for our dishes. He nodded and left to get the recipes.
We finished our lunches and had a cup of coffee; refreshed, recipes in Mary Louise’s purse, and ready for the Grand and Petit Trianons, we called Annette, who joined us.
“As you probably know,” she said, “the Grand Trianon was built in 1670 by Louis the Fourteenth as a place away from the main palace where he could relax with his mistress Madame de Montespan. It’s quite beautiful, with pink marble arches and a magnificent formal rose garden in back. The furnishings are almost all from Napoleon’s time.
“The Petit Trianon was built by Louis the Fifteenth in 1768 as his own love nest with Madame de Pompadour until she died, and then he invited Madame du Barry to move into the bedroom upstairs. When Louis the Sixteenth became king, his wife, Marie Antoinette, took it over as her own private refuge. She made it into her own special little palace to go to when she was tired of all the pomp and ceremony at the main palace. She was only nineteen when she married Louis, so this was sort of her playhouse. Only her friends were allowed to join her there. She kept the servants as inconspicuous as possible so she could pretend she was just a simple little shepherdess tending to her lambs, which were perfumed. In the back was what she called her hameau, or “hamlet,” to bounce around in. It was an actual farm with a mill and everything. It has its own temple of love—a sort of gazebo outside—but grander, with Corinthian columns.”
“Perfumed lambs!” Gini said. “That’s some farm.”
“I’ll take you through the Petit Trianon first,” Annette said. “If you’re still willing, we’ll go to the Grand Trianon later. I know it’s quite hot today, so I don’t want to wear you out.”
“We’ll let you know, Annette,” Tina said.
Annette led us through the Petit Trianon, a charming little palace, beautifully decorated with marble and brass, magnificent paintings and sculpture, and the sweetest bed, which had a canopy with a cover of dark blue dots on a white background.
We admired the mill and gazebo outside, imagining the young, doomed queen on swings, picking flowers, feeding the animals, playing at being a normal person.
“How do you feel about going through the Grand Trianon?” Annette asked.
We looked at each other. Did we want to traipse through another palace? I didn’t really, but I didn’t want to spoil it for everyone else.
Gini, as usual, spoke for all of us. “Maybe we’ll skip that one, Annette. I’d like to see one of the fountain shows before we go, and then I think we’ve had it for the day.”
We were all relieved and followed Annette back to the pools in back of the main palace.
One of the water fountain shows was on when we got there. In the middle of the pool with Apollo and his horses, water spurted high in the air, Rameau’s music played, and for fifteen minutes, the air was filled with a cooling display around the pool statues. It was enchanting. We sat on one of the benches and cooled off just watching all that water shooting up toward the sky.
We thanked Annette for our tour, and Tina called Officer Paulhe on her cell. We walked back to the front of the palace, and our genial bodyguard was already there in his police van.
“You are through already?” he asked. “I thought you would stay for the fireworks and concert fountains tonight. It’s amazing. You should really see it.”
“Next time, Jacques,” Gini said. “We need to get back to Paris.”
I fell asleep in the van and didn’t wake up until we were back on Boulevard du Montparnasse in front of the apartment.
“I will park and take my place outside your door,” Officer Paulhe said. “I will keep you safe.”
We were all tired from walking around in the heat all day, and after some bread and cheese, which we shared with our officer friend, we read for a while and then went to bed. Jacques sat in a chair outside our door, dozing on and off, throughout the night.
RECIPES FOR SOUFFLÉ ROLL, CRÊPES, AND SHRIMP SALAD
Soufflé Roll
Serves six.
Roll
4 tbsps. butter
½ cup flour
½ tsp. salt
tsp. white pepper
2 cups milk
5 eggs, separated
Filling
2 tbsps. butter
4 finely chopped shallots
4 chopped mushrooms
1 cup chopped cooked spinach
1 cup chopped cooked ham
1 tbsp. Dijon mustard
¼ tsp. nutmeg
2 3-ounce packages cream cheese
Salt and ground pepper
To make the roll
1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
2. Grease a 15½ by 10½ by 1 inch jelly roll pan.
3. Line pan with greased waxed paper.
4. Dust waxed paper with flour.
5. Make a cream sauce: melt the butter in a saucepan; add flour, salt, and pepper; then slowly stir in the milk. Bring to a boil and cook for one minute.
6. Mix yolks, but don’t overdo it.
8. Let the mixture cool for a while.
9. Whip the egg whites until they are stiff, but don’t let them get too dry.
10. Fold them into the cream sauce that is now room temperature.
11, Pour the mixture onto your greased, wax-papered jelly roll pan.
12. Bake for thirty minutes until the sheet of dough is puffy and brown. (Make the filling while the dough is baking)
13. Flip the whole thing onto a clean towel.
14. Fill the roll with the filling, and—this is the tricky part—using the towel to help you, roll it up and slide it onto a plate with the seam down. Cut up into six mouth-watering servings.
To make the filling
1. Sauté the shallots in the butter in a skillet until they are tender.
2. Add the mushrooms and cook them about three minutes. You want to get rid of their moisture.
3. Stir in the spinach, ham, mustard, and nutmeg, and heat.
4. Add the cream cheese, salt, and pepper.
5. Spread it on your beautifully browned, puffy roll.
Crêpes with Mushroom and Bacon
Makes 12 crêpes.
Crêpes
1 large egg
1 cup milk
1 tbsp. melted butter
1 tsp. chopped parsley
½ cup flour
½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. ground black pepper
Vegetable oil
Filling
6 slices bacon
1½ pound thinly sliced mushrooms
3 tbsps. butter
¼ cup flour
1 cup milk
½ cup heavy cream
1 tbsp. chopped parsley
To make the crêpes
1. Whisk together egg, milk, butter, and parsley.
2. Add flour, salt, and pepper.