Although Louis XVI’s birthday had passed, the Palace of Versailles Square remained in a temporary state of relaxed dress code, hence there were still many Parisians coming here to sing, dance, play, or watch free theater performances.
Small vendors also gathered here, hoping to make the most of the last opportunity to sell a few more items.
People chatted about their experiences over the past few days, and the lively laughter and chatter maintained the warmth of the celebration.
Aristocrats and politicians from various countries were finally free from the cumbersome ceremonial activities of the previous days and now had the leisure to truly enjoy themselves in Paris. Places like the Eden Amusement Park once again saw a surge of visitors.
At 8:40 p.m., Madame Garlan arrived at her music salon with a face full of relaxed joy, ready to start today’s music salon.
Leveraging the influence of the King’s birthday, she had become a sought-after music virtuoso within the Palace of Versailles. Her salon was now a musical “holy site” coveted by aristocrats and celebrities; without some measure of skill, one simply couldn’t enter the doors of this music room.
Though Godoy was of low status, he had the advantage of being an early participant in the salon and possessed a solid foundation in music. Additionally, with the hundreds of livres Louisa spent to make arrangements for him, he managed to secure his spot in the salon.
A few servants responsible for arranging the musical instruments exchanged discreet nods after seeing the Spanish Crown Princess enter the hall with her guard, then turned to double-check the balcony’s position and slightly adjusted the height of the guitarist’s chair.
Godoy, following behind Louisa, respectfully bowed to Madame Garlan, exchanged a few pleasantries, and was then led by a footman to his seat, the position for performers. Louisa, on the other hand, was escorted to the VIP seats opposite and above.
Since there were too many aristocrats attending the music salon, Madame Garlan often borrowed servants from elsewhere to help, so she didn’t pay much attention to a few unfamiliar faces.
At 9 p.m., the salon officially began.
Madame Garlan, as the hostess, broke from convention by delivering a lengthy lecture on music theory right after welcoming the guests, winning waves of admiration from the audience.
Following that, a few music masters from the Palace of Versailles shared some thoughts on music theory before moving into the routine performance segment.
The soothing sound of music began, it was Francois Couperin’s “Les Bergeries,” but after Madame Garlan’s rearrangement, the style appeared lighter and more lively.
The performers blended themselves into their instruments while the audience, enraptured, closed their eyes and savored the moment.
Just as the music was reaching its climax, a cello placed on a chair, unattended, seemed to lose its balance and suddenly toppled to the side.
And Godoy happened to be right beneath the peg of the cello.
The cello, a colossus among instruments, standing over a person tall and weighing nearly 180 pounds. Startled by the fall, Godoy hastily moved backward to avoid being struck. Unbeknownst to him, his chair’s leg seemed to have caught on something, and instead of moving back, it tilted over under his push. Experience tales at empire
Godoy immediately fell backward.
His position was already at the edge of the balcony, and as his body heavily hit the railing, a “crack” sound was heard; the wooden balustrade, thick as the arm of a grown man, shattered into several pieces as if made of paper under his impact.
Louisa was watching her lover play with a captivated look when she caught sight of the cello collapsing, only to then see Godoy breaking the balcony railing and falling down.
From below, a muffled “crash” could be faintly heard.
The sudden accident left everyone frozen on the spot until Louisa let out a shrill scream, “Godoy—”
The musicians nearest rushed to their feet, cautiously peering over the broken balcony edge, only to see in the dim light of the night the guitarist lying motionless on the ground, next to a footman retreating in shock.
Louisa, too, hurried to the balcony, unable to see the situation clearly, then, with a face pale as death, turned in the support of her maid and rushed downstairs. The aristocrats participating in the salon immediately followed to check on what had happened.
Just then, a pair of guards, who happened to be passing by downstairs, saw someone had fallen and quickly knelt next to Godoy, urgently calling out, “Sir! Sir, how are you?”
Seeing that Godoy had apparently passed out, one of them looked up at the people on the second-floor balcony, barely distinguishable in the dark night. He instantly took out a small knife and quickly slashed it across Godoy’s face.
The other, having noticed the golden crucifix pendant Godoy was wearing, pulled it out, carelessly smeared some blood on it, and placed it neatly on his chest.
By the time Louisa ran downstairs, frenzied, with the help of a torch carried by a servant, she saw Godoy lying on the ground, surrounded by numerous shards of glass, as if a wineglass had been smashed.
The two guards were trying to revive him with anxious faces while another servant stood trembling nearby.
Louisa carefully approached and saw more clearly this time that there were two wounds on Godoy’s face, likely caused by shattered glass, one of which extended from the corner of his eye to his mouth, revealing pale yellow fat, a sight that was horrifying to behold.
His crucifix pendant lay on his chest, and against the white of his shirt, one could clearly see that the figure of Jesus on the pendant was drenched in blood, as if foretelling something.
A nobleman who had rushed over from the salon, upon seeing this, hastily made the sign of the cross while murmuring: