The Cybersybils present Viva Versailles

Meanwhile, back in the limo, Ms. Maddie chatted amicably with Lexi's chauffeur, Bruce - a rather muscularly proportioned gent whose driver's cap sported a Victory motorcycle blazon - as the immaculate white Daimler proceeded onwards to Versailles.

"I'm so glad Miss O has found a new friend," she declared, "and that I thought of sneaking into the palace under cover of darkness all by myself!"

"You did?" the mustachioed Bruce drawled.

"Well, not entirely, for a Voice advises me on such matters."

The Daimler screeched to a sudden halt, both driver and occupant lurching forward, then back again.

"Not you, too!" the V92C man exclaimed. "I thought I was the only one who'd been contacted by beings from another plane! And here I believed the little friends of my youth to be aliens! I'm not alone! Thank you, thank you ever so much for your honesty...I'll do anything to help, just anything."

"Well, then," the Waffle winked, "I suggest you step on it, Bruce...perhaps you might distract a guard or two for me once we arrive at our destination?"

"Simple as succotash, sweetie," Sexi's aide-de-camp promised, tipping his cap and revealing a perfectly polished, completely smooth skull.

True to his word, Bruce proved most adept at sashaying right up to a back door of Louis XIV's extravagant home with a hand on one hip, striking a pose so convincing that a titillated security guard's undivided attention proved that perhaps the art of 17th century foppery was not dead.

"Vou-lez-vous cou-chez avec moi, ce soir?" the intrepid wheelman sang with Broadway gusto as Ms. Maddie scurried past the gendarme's booth and made for the inside of the center pavilion's wing that was aligned due north.

The Queen's Stairs

"Whew," she sighed. "Thank goodness for Lady Marmalade and I don't mean ye olde English jam! Now, let me see, where to next? Hmmm...there's a staircase over there...I'll see where it leads."

Certain she was on the brink of an important discovery, the emboldened adventuress tripped lightly up marble steps, past gold gilded frames containing massive portraits of French royalty, ignoring any and all distractions, intent on reaching the second floor. Once there, she breezed past a velvet, cordoned gate and looked about, thoroughly bemused.

"The Hall of Mirrors...how magnificent!"

An entranced visitor took her time traversing the length of the splendid, reflecting passage. Despite the darkness, she could see perfectly, her own image cast in myriad aspects by the two rows of almost holographic glass.

The tinkle of a harpsichord sounded a tune which Madeline immediately recognized.

"Beethoven? Why, Heavens and Andromeda, who might be tickling the ivories at this hour? Wait a minute, the next room is the Salon de la Paix, or Room of Peace, used for music recitals in the 18th century."