Alexandre Dumas - The Last Cavalier - Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon

“You can imagine my joy when I received this leave. Once again I would be in control of my own person; no longer was I promised by the word of my father and my two brothers to a monarchy that I knew only through my family’s devotion and through the misfortunes that devotion had brought down upon our house. I was twenty-three years old; I had an annual income of one hundred thousand francs. I was in love, and supposing that I was also loved, the gates of paradise that had long been guarded by the angel of death were now opening up before me. Oh, Claire! Claire! That is why I was so happy when you saw me at Madame de Permon’s ball. I could finally ask you to meet me like this. Finally I could tell you that I loved you.”

Claire lowered her eyes and made no answer, which in itself was almost an answer.

“Now,” Hector went on, “everything I have just told you, all these histories hidden away out in the provinces, is completely unknown in Paris. I could have kept it hidden from you, but I chose not to. I wanted to tell you my whole life’s story, to explain by what destiny I was led finally to make my confession to you—knowing that you might suppose my actions to be a mistake or even a crime—so that I might receive absolution from your own lips.”

“Oh, Hector dear!” cried Claire, carried away by the quiet passion that had been governing her for nearly a year. “Oh, yes, I forgive you! I absolve you,” and forgetting that she was under her mother’s watchful eyes, she added, “I love you!” And threw her arms around his neck.

“Claire!” cried Madame de Sourdis, her voice showing more surprise than anger.

“Mother!” answered Claire, blushing and about to faint.

“Claire!” said Hector, taking her hand. “Don’t forget that everything I have told you is for you alone. It must be a secret between us, and since I love only you, I have no need for forgiveness from anyone but you. Do not forget. And especially, remember that I shall be truly alive only when I receive your mother’s answer to the request I have made. Claire, you have told me that you love me. I am placing our happiness in your love’s hands.”

Without another word Hector left. But his heart, athrill with the freedom and joy of a prisoner whose death sentence has just been commuted, was not silent.

Madame de Sourdis was waiting impatiently for her daughter. Claire’s spontaneity, when she threw herself into the arms of the young Comte de Sainte-Hermine, had seemed out of character. She wanted an explanation.

The explanation was clear and rapid. When the girl reached her mother, she simply dropped to her knees and pronounced these three words: “I love him!”

Our characters are molded by nature to prepare us for the times we need them to survive. It was thanks to such natural strength that Charlotte Corday and Madame Roland were able to say, one to Marat and the other to Robespierre: “I hate you.” Likewise, Claire could say to Hector: “I love you.”

Madame de Sourdis helped Claire up from her knees, had her sit down next to her, and then questioned her, but these are the only words the mother got out of her daughter: “My dear mother, Hector told me a family secret that he believes he must hide from everyone except the girl he wants to make his wife. I am that girl. He solicits the favor of coming to ask your permission for a marriage we desire more than anything. He is free, he has an annual income of one hundred thousand francs, and we love each other. Think about it, Mother dear. But a refusal on your part would be a calamity for both of us!”

Having spoken firmly but respectfully, Claire then bowed to her mother and started to walk away.

“And if I say yes?” said Madame de Sourdis.

“Oh, Mother,” cried Claire, throwing herself into her arms, “how good you are and how I love you!”

“And now that I have reassured your heart,” Madame de Soudis said, “sit down and let us speak reasonably.”

Madame de Sourdis seated herself on a sofa. Claire sat in front of her, on a cushion, and took her mother’s hands. “I’m all ears, Mother,” said Claire with a smile.

“In times like ours,” said Madame de Sourdis, “it is absolutely necessary to belong to some party. I believe that Hector de Sainte-Hermine numbers himself among the Royalists. Yesterday, when I was chatting with your godfather Dr. Cabanis, a great man of science who also has good sense, he congratulated me on the friendship Madame Bonaparte has for me. He believes strongly that you should likewise become as close as possible to her daughter Hortense. In his opinion, that is where your future lies.

“As you know, Cabanis is the First Consul’s personal doctor, and he is convinced the First Consul, in his genius, will not be content to stay where he is situated now. A man does not risk something like the 18th Brumaire just to sit in a consul’s armchair; he does it rather to rule from a throne. So those who attach themselves to Bonaparte’s star before the veil of the future is rent will be carried along with him in the whirlwind of his destiny; along with him they will rise.

“The First Consul, we know, loves to bring great families, rich families, over to his side. In that regard, Sainte-Hermine leaves nothing to be desired. He has an income of one hundred thousand francs; his family goes back to the Crusades. His entire family, too, has died for the Royalist cause, so truly, he owes nothing more to their campaign. He is of an age that has allowed him to remain thus far outside of political events. Whereas his father and two brothers all gave their lives for old France, he has not yet pledged anything to any party. It is up to him, then, by accepting a position with the First Consul, to live for new France.

“Please note that I am not making this step on his part a condition for your marriage. I would be more than pleased to see Hector join the side of the First Consul. If he refuses, however, it is because his conscience tells him that he must, and only God can judge the human conscience. Whichever path he chooses, he will be my daughter’s husband nonetheless, and no less will he be my beloved son-in-law.”

“When might I write to him, Mother?” Claire asked.

“Whenever you like, my child,” answered her mother.

That very evening, Claire sent him a message, and the next day before noon, as soon as he could appropriately appear, Hector was knocking again at the front door.

This time he was taken directly to see Madame de Sourdis, who welcomed him with open arms, like a mother. They were still holding each other tightly when Claire opened the door, and seeing them, she cried, “Oh, Mother. How happy I am!” Madame de Sourdis again opened her arms, so that she could embrace both of her children.

The marriage was agreed upon. All that was left to discuss with the young Comte was the matter of his joining the First Consul’s administration.

Hector, with Madame de Sourdis on his left and Claire on his right, was seated on the sofa with his future mother-in-law’s hand in his on one side and his fiancée’s on the other. Claire took it upon herself to explain to Hector the high opinion that Dr. Cabanis held of Bonaparte and to present Madame de Sourdis’s hope regarding Hector’s future. Hector kept his eyes fixed attentively on Claire as she tried to repeat word for word her mother’s reasoning on the matter.

When she had finished, Hector bowed to Madame de Sourdis, and looking even more intently at Claire than he had while she was speaking, he said, “Claire, based on what I told you yesterday, and I am not sorry to have gone on at such length, put yourself in my place and answer your mother. Your answer will be my answer.”

The girl thought for a moment and then threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh, Mother!” she cried, shaking her head. “He cannot. His brother’s blood flows between them.”