(Beginnings of ball scene)
du Motier: (bowing a bit too low) Your Highness.
Louis: Who’s this?
Marie: Gilbert du Motier. He is one
of your distinguished soldiers.
Louis: du Motier. Yes.
I think I remember you…
du Motier: The United States of Austria.
Louis: Yes. That’s it.
Wait, what?
du Motier: America. I helped
you in America.
Louis: Yes. (a bit confused)
Marie: He has been a most loyal
servant to France.
du Motier: I stand on guard
for your Highness.
Marie: Rumours of his insubordination
are not to be listened to.
du Motier: That would be
a blanket statement.
Louis: Wait. What are
we talking about?
Nursemaid: Your Highness?
Marie (handing off baby): Thank you.
du Motier: Why, hello.
Nursemaid: Milord.
Marie: Gilbert. Don’t you have somewhere to be?
((Marie as consumer))
[Marie at the Hameau Feast following the ball]
All this to my table. How much
does it take.
What I hold before me now
has travelled untold lengths.
From one pair of hands
to another to another.
All those hands
around the world.
Like a chain of hands
held all around.
This? Or this? If I choose this,
then it passes through these hands.
But if I choose that, then
that chain will light up
instead.
My hand—the choosing hand—
will be the last. I point
and one part of the world
will spring into action.
My hand is last and first.
The chain ends here
and now it enters my stomach.
