The Cat and the King

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Oh, yes, you do,” the Girl interrupted. “Any girl but myself might have believed—might have convinced herself that somehow you found her charming. Any girl likes to be flattered that way, you know, and one might—yes, one might almost learn to be pleased if she thought that.” There was a shadow of something soft and sweet in the Girl's voice here, calculated to make little Hagiwara’s heart skip a beat. “But you, Mr. Hagiwara, have been following me, keeping your eyes on me for just one reason. You cannot deny it.” You will understand,” I stuttered in his ear, “you will not think it cowardice on my part if I—if I see this thing through. The Girl—Shanghai—you?”

The Cat and the King (1981) is a work of historical fiction about the court of French King Louis XIV (1638–1715) by novelist Louis Auchincloss. The novel's narrator— Louis de Rouvroy, the second Duc de Saint-Simon—was a real-life French noble who observed life at the court and recorded in his memoirs all that he saw and felt about the reign of the Sun King. Saint-Simon (1675–1755) is mentioned in many of Auchincloss’ works and in The Cat and the King he fantasizes that the Duc kept on writing after his real-life memoirs were published. After that first sitting of doddering majesty, the Girl moved from the old Astor House over to the home of the American minister. She jumped at the invitation which came from the minister’s wife, who, like all of us there in Seoul, had been completely captivated by the dazzling personality of this remarkable woman, and had been avid, also, to seize the advantage which possession of this much talked-about young painter would give in the jealous circle of legation society. The Japanese bubbled and gurgled in his effort at denial. Never, never had he entertained such a thought. It was impossible. Beyond belief. Never have I lived six swifter hours than those which followed, nor ones which so nearly whirled me off my feet. Ah, Mr. Hagiwara, your friend Mitono of the consulate in Shanghai commended you to me before I left for Seoul.” The Girl’s velvety voice was purring and soft. “He told me that you were a man of influence in the court here, but that you were so impervious to feminine appeal that I must be an unusual woman to win your favor.”

About Nick Sharratt

The Girl took the hand of Bethell and of Prince Min Yung in turn, and nodded the good-by which she could not speak. His majesty, who was sniveling quietly, she ignored. Fortunately, the unexpected assistance of a dragon is just what’s needed when everything seems a little hopeless...

Oh, Billy,” she said with a little gasp and dropping the playful formality of the mister, “pray for me that I may keep Hagiwara here for another hour. The crisis is on at the palace. Hagiwara possesses a dreadful sixth sense of premonition, and he has been trying to make a break for the old emperor’s audience chamber ever since I arrived. He must not; he ——” They choose Number 37 Castle Close, and the cat introduces the King to all sorts of new experiences, from washing-up to shopping.The guitar arrived today, about half an hour after I got off work, and I have played for about an hour and a half already. My fingers are so sore it hurts to type. The clear, lilting notes of her speech, and the heavy, blurred accents of a voice I knew instantly to be Hagiwara’s, drew steadily nearer, until finally I judged by the sound that they had paused directly below the library balcony whereon I was standing. I was placed in the very willing position of an eavesdropper. Third, I've build an Ansible system. With all the servers I have to manage, going from one to the next to install patches and updates was getting too time consuming. With Ansible, I should be able to write playbooks to update everything with a single command from me - and so much more.

It was Prince Min Yung, a right decent sort, and unswerving in his loyalty to the emperor during all the whirlwind of intrigue, who acted as interpreter. The emperor extended himself in pretty phrases. He wanted to know by what kindness of the gods his poor court had been honored by the presence of so fair a stranger. He heard, right away, that the Girl, who was a humble painter person from America, and who had enjoyed the honor of putting on canvas the sacred features of the dowager of China, could not feel that life was complete until she had done similarly by his augustness, of whose greatness and glory she had heard wondrous tales in far—away America. I was sitting on the jutting balcony of the old royal library, shadowed by great Siberian firs, when I heard a voice. It was the Girl’s. Mixing fact and fiction, the Duc de Saint-Simon recounts three episodes in which he and his wife involve themselves in the notorious schemings of King Louis XIV's Versailles. Throughout, the famous courtier's attitudes toward the King and court shift. In the first story, the young Duc, appalled at the King's calculating matches of his illegitimate offspring with prominent aristocrats, works to subvert the wedding of one of Louis' nephews, but is thwarted when his adversaries threaten to expose the homosexuality of both the King's brother and the narrator's patron, the Prince de Conti. In the second, Saint-Simon is maneuvered into acting as messenger between Conti (who is briefly King of Poland in 1697) and Conti's mistress, Madame la Duchesse. In this the Duc is subverted by his own wife's schemings. Finally, in later years, rumors of incest are deployed by both sides in a struggle to determine which of two ill-pedigreed "princesses" will be matched with one of the King's legitimate grandsons. The high-minded Saint-Simon emerges from these intrigues disillusioned ("We had all...been made part of the Versailles system"), but resolves (after the King's death) to record the monarch's "great style" and quest for glory. Run along now, Billy,” she urged, “and be prepared to jump out of Korea itself if worse comes to worst. They’ll strike in the dark, you know, if they get desperate, and—and nobody wants to be a ‘damp, demnition body’!”Listen, my dear friend.” Her voice was low, and there was a certain rough huskiness in it as of emotion, scarce restrained. “We must not forget—Bethell, and you, and I—that the loser in this game will pay, yes, heavily. Only since I have been here have I realized how desperate are the forces against which we are matched. All three of us might drop out of sight in this ghostly whirlpool of intrigue, and there wouldn’t be a ripple to mark our disappearance.” Prince Min Yung listened to the end. His hand was trembling as he reached out to tamp the bowl of his long pipe. She did not say a word as we came panting up to where she stood, but motioned that Looie bring the lamp. She preceded us into her room and nodded to a little alcove, jutting out into the broad balcony which girdled the second story of the hotel. There her trunk stood, opened. By it was a sprawling blotch of blue—the blue of the Japanese coolie’s surtout. Before noon the next day an imperial secretary arrived at the Astor House with a message for the Girl from the Emperor Bugs. His majesty would be graciously pleased to have the distinguished American artist paint his portrait, and his majesty awaited her immediate visit to the palace with pleasurable anticipation. has caved, you know, and now he says the fourteen devils of Mokpu cannot stop him from flying to-night.

The lightning’s striking closer every minute,” he said, in a low, serious voice. “I got it straight from the palace this morning that two of the emperor’s mutang (sorcerers) died last night. They ate a venison pie which the old boy refused to touch.” What, your majesty!’ says this woman of the burning hair. ‘Are you not emperor, lord of all in earth? Will you be fooled to your destruction by these traitorous witch doctors? See, I am painting the face of a monarch—not of a fool.’ And at that his majesty falls to weeping and calling himself an idiot. Oh, gentlemen! Tragedy and comedy were there, too strong to bear.” I closed my fingers over the hand and tried to read something besides the impersonal earnestness in her eyes. All right—all right,” she breathed before ever I could put a question. “And Bethell, yes; I knew you’d be here, too. Ah, what’s that?” Why did you send a spy to search my trunk the first night I was in Seoul?” There was a pitiful catch and quaver in the putting of that question; outraged dignity called for reparation.

The prototype for the holiday lights was also successful. I am using an ESP8266 to control a string of LEDs. The color can be controlled per led, which allows for some interesting animations. It's entirely functional, so now it is time to scale up to the real thing. The day after the emperor signed away Korean independence at the point of the bayonet it was reported that Prince Min Yung had “committed suicide” in his home. At least, that was the official report.