The Cybersybils present Viva Versailles

Meanwhile, back in the limo, Ms. Madeline chatted amicably with Mr. Graham's chauffeur, Bruce - a rather muscularly proportioned gent whose driver's cap sported a Harley Davidson blazon - whilst the immaculate white Daimler proceeded onwards to Versailles.

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

"You did?" mustachioed Bruce drawled, raising one eyebrow.

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

The Daimler screeched to a sudden halt, both driver and occupant startled.

"Not you, too!" the motorcycle man exclaimed. "I thought I was the only one who had ever 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 candor...I'll do anything to help, just anything."

"Well, then," the Cybersybil 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," sexy Lexi'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 which convinced a bored French doorkeep that perhaps the art of 17th century foppery was not dead.

"Voulez-vous couchez avec moi, ce soir?" the intrepid wheelman sang with Broadway gusto as Ms. Madeline 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 English jam! Now, let me see, where to next? Right, left, up, down? Hmmm...well, there's a staircase over there...I'll see where that 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 regal 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 the Room of Peace, formerly used for music recitals in the late 18th century. I must investigate."