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

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СКАЧАТЬ Régnier, who since then became Duke of Massa, had been named chief judge and prefect of the police. He worked in concert with Junot, now governor of Paris, as well as with Bonaparte himself and his aide-de-camp, Duroc. On the day that Bonaparte was to sign Mademoiselle de Sourdis’s marriage contract, he spent an hour with Régnier, for the news recently had been disturbing. Once again the Vendée and Brittany were in upheaval. It did not appear this time to be civil war; rather, shadowy bands of incendiaries were traveling from farm to farm and from chateau to chateau, where they were forcing farmers and proprietors to give them their money and then torturing them most atrociously. The newspapers were reporting instances of poor souls whose hands and feet had been burned to the bone.

      In an order written to Régnier, Bonaparte had asked the prefect to gather all the files relating to this business of burnings. Five such events had been confirmed within the past week: The first, in Berric, where the Sulé River takes its source; the second, in Plescop; the third, in Muzillac; the fourth, in Saint-Nolff; the fifth, at Saint-Jean-de-Brévelay. There appeared to be three leaders at the head of the roving bands, but some superior officer no doubt was in control of them all. And that officer, if one were to believe the police agents, was Cadoudal himself. One could only conclude that he had not kept his word to Bonaparte; that instead of withdrawing to England as he had promised, he was fomenting a new uprising in Brittany.

      Bonaparte, who normally was correct in his assumption that he could read a man’s character well, shook his head when the chief judge tried to lay on Cadoudal the despicable crimes they were trying now to solve. How could that be possible? That sharp mind that had discussed with Bonaparte, without giving an inch, the interests of peoples and their kings; that pure conscience content to live in England on his own family’s wealth; that heart without ambition who turned down the position of aide-de-camp to the most important general in Europe; that unselfish soul who refused one hundred thousand francs per year to stand by and watch while lesser men tore each other apart—how could a man like that have lowered himself to such a vile activity as burning, the most cowardly act of banditry of all?

      Totally impossible!

      And Bonaparte had forcefully said as much to his new prefect of police. He had then given orders for the most skillful agents with broad powers to leave Paris and pursue relentlessly the conscienceless murderers. Régnier promised to send the best of his men to Brittany that very day.

      By then, it was already almost ten in the evening, and Bonaparte sent word to Josephine that they would be leaving shortly to visit Madame de Sourdis and the young couple.

      The countess’s magnificent hotel was gleaming with light. The day had been warm and sunny, and the first flowers and leaves were beginning to break out of their cottony prisons. The warm spring breezes danced in the flowering lilacs that seemed to forest the garden from the castle windows to the terrace along the quay. Beneath those intriguingly scented canopies, colored lamps were burning, and whiffs of perfume and snatches of song wafted from the open windows, while on the drawn curtains the guests cast moving shadows.

      Among the guests were the most elegant people in Paris. There were the government officials, that marvelous staff of generals, the oldest of whom was no more thirty-five: Murat, Marmont, Junot, Duroc, Lannes, Moncey, Davout—already heroes at an age when one is normally only a captain. There were poets: Lemercier, still proud of the recent success of his Agamemnon; Chénier, who had written Timoléon, then given up theater and thrown himself into politics; Chateaubriand, who had just discovered God at Niagara Falls and in the depths of America’s virgin forests. There were famous dancers without whom grand balls could not be held: Trénis, Laffitte, Dupaty, Garat, Vestris. And there were the new century’s splendid stars who had appeared in the East: Madame Récamier, Madame Méchin, Madame de Contades, Madame Regnault de Saint-Jean-d’Angély. Finally, there was the brilliant young crowd, made up of men like Caulaincourt, Narbonne, Longchamp, Matthieu de Montmorency, Eugène de Beauharnais, and Philippe de Ségur.

      From the moment the word got out that the First Consul and Madame Bonaparte not only were attending the wedding celebration but also would be signing the marriage contract, all society sought an invitation. Guests filled the ground floor and the first story of Madame de Sourdis’s spacious hotel, and they spread out onto the terraces, there to seek relief from the hot, stuffy rooms in the cool evening air.

      At quarter to eleven, a mounted escort was seen leaving the Tuileries gates, with each man carrying a torch. Once they had crossed the bridge, the First Consul’s carriage, rolling at a triple gallop, surrounded by torches, swept by in the thunder of hoofbeats and a whirlwind of sparks before it disappeared into the hotel courtyard.

      In the midst of a crowd so dense that it seemed impossible for anyone to penetrate, a passage magically opened and, inside the ballroom, widened into a circle that allowed Madame de Sourdis and Claire to approach the First Consul and Josephine. Hector de Sainte-Hermine walked behind Claire and her mother, and though he paled visibly on seeing Bonaparte, he nonetheless stood nobly before him.

      Madame Bonaparte embraced Mademoiselle de Sourdis and placed on her arm a pearl necklace worth fifty thousand francs. Bonaparte greeted the two women, then moved toward Hector. Not suspecting that Bonaparte indeed meant to address him, Hector began to step aside. But Bonaparte stopped to face him.

      “Monsieur,” said Bonaparte, “if I had not been afraid you would refuse it, I would have brought a gift for you as well, an appointment to the consular guard. But I understand that some wounds need time to heal.”

      “For such cures, General, no one has a more skillful hand than you. However.…” Hector sighed and raised his handkerchief to his eyes. “Excuse me, General,” said the young man, after a pause. “I would like to be more worthy of your kindness.”

      “That is what comes from having too much heart, young man,” said Bonaparte. “It is always the heart that suffers.”

      Turning again to Madame de Sourdis, the First Consul exchanged a few words with her, and complimented Claire. Then he noticed Vestris.

      “Oh, there’s young Vestris,” he said. “He lately did me a kindness for which I shall be eternally grateful. He was coming back to perform at the Opera after a short illness, and the performance happened to fall on a day that I was having a reception at the Tuileries. He changed his performance date so as not to conflict with my reception.… Come, Monsieur Vestris, please demonstrate your inimitable courteousness by asking two of these ladies to dance a gavotte for us.”

      “Citizen First Consul,” answered this son to the god of dance in an Italian accent that the family had never been able to eradicate, “we are pleased to have just the dance for you, a gavotte I composed for Mademoiselle de Coigny. Madame Récamier and Mademoiselle de Sourdis dance it like angels. All we need is a harp and a horn,” he said, rolling his “r”s, “if Mademoiselle de Sourdis is willing to play the tambourine as she dances. As for Madame Récamier, you know that she is unbeatable in the shawl dance.”

      “Come, my ladies,” said the First Consul. “You surely cannot refuse the request that Monsieur Vestris has made and which I support with all my power.”

      Mademoiselle de Sourdis would have been happy to escape the ovation given to her, but once her dancing master Vestris had chosen her, and after the First Consul had added his bidding, she did not wait to be asked again.

      She was dressed perfectly for this dance. Her white dress, accented by her dark skin, had two clusters of grapes on the shoulders, while grape leaves in reddish autumn colors ran the length of her gown. She also wore grape leaves in her hair.

      Madame Récamier was wearing her customary white dress and her red Indian cashmere shawl. The creator of the shawl dance, which had so successfully СКАЧАТЬ