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

“‘Well!’ a voice cried out. ‘Is she coming down or not?’

“‘Here we are,’ said the queen with great effort, as she proceeded the rest of the way down.

“When she reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, the drummer summoned the guard, not to honor her, but to demonstrate the armed force that made futile any attempt to escape. The heavy door opened slowly; its hinges squeaked.

“The three prisoners made their way quickly from the courtyard to the garden. Insulting graffiti and obscene figures drawn by soldiers in their spare time covered the courtyard walls, but the weather was magnificent, the sun not yet so hot as to be unbearable.

“The queen walked for about three quarters of an hour. Then, at ten minutes to eleven, she went to the canteen, where a woman named Mother Plumeau sold sausages, wine, and alcohol to the soldiers. The queen was already at the door, and just about to walk in and ask permission to sit down, when she noticed that Simon, the shoemaker and one of her most fervent enemies, was just finishing his breakfast at the table. So she decided to leave.

“But Black had already run in, and to no avail she called to the dog, who was sniffing at the trapdoor to the cellar where the widow Plumeau kept her food and drink. Insistently, the dog pushed its nose into the cracks around the trapdoor.

“Quaking, guessing what had attracted the dog’s attention, the queen called out sharply for the little dog to come back. But Black appeared not even to hear her, or if he did, he refused to obey. Instead, the dog began to growl. Then he was barking ferociously.

“A light came on suddenly in the shoemaker’s brain as to why the dog was so stubbornly refusing to obey its mistress. Up from the table in a flash, Simon ran to the door and called out: ‘To arms! Treason! To arms!’

“‘Black! Black!’ the queen called in desperation, but the dog, unheeding, barked only more furiously still.

“‘To arms!’ Simon continued shouting. ‘To arms! There are aristocrats in Citizen Plumeau’s cellar, they’ve come to save the queen. Treason! Treason!’

“‘To arms!’ the municipal guards shouted in return as they grabbed their guns and rushed toward the queen and her two companions. They were soon surrounded and led by the guardsmen back to the tower.

“Even at that, Black refused to leave or cease. The poor animal’s instinct had betrayed him. Still barking and scratching at the trapdoor, he was mistaking help for danger.

“A dozen national guardsmen entered the canteen. His eyes burning, Simon shouted, ‘There, under the trapdoor! I saw the trapdoor move, I’m sure.’

“‘Weapons ready!’ the guards shouted out. You could hear the sound of guns being loaded, while Simon continued shouting ‘There, right there!’

“The officer grabbed the ring on the trapdoor, but even with two of the strongest guards assisting him, the door wouldn’t budge.

“‘They’re holding the trapdoor down,’ shouted Simon. ‘Shoot through it; fire!’

“‘But what about my bottles?’ the widow Plumeau cried. ‘You’re going to break my bottles!’

“‘Stop your bawling, both of you!’ said the officer. ‘And you,’ he addressed the guards, ‘bring some axes and chop open the door.’

“His men obeyed, and the officer said, ‘Now, get ready, and fire into the trapdoor as soon as we open it.’

“They began breaking the door open with the ax, and once the opening was large enough, twenty rifle barrels were lowered toward it. Only there was no one to be seen. The officer lit a torch and tossed it into the cellar. Still, no one.

“‘Follow me!’ the officer ordered as he hurried down the stairway into the empty cellar.

“‘Forward!’ shouted the municipal guards, rushing after their leader.

“‘Ah, Widow Plumeau,’ Simon cried, shaking his fist at her, ‘so now you loan your cellar to aristocrats trying to free the queen!’

“But Simon unjustly accused the good woman. For someone had broken through the cellar wall from a tunnel three feet wide and five feet high that ran toward the Rue de la Corderie. On the tunnel floor many people had left their tracks.

“The officer set off quickly down the tunnel, but after only ten steps he encountered an iron grate and had to stop. ‘Stop!’ the officer called out to the soldiers hard on his heels. ‘We can go no farther. I want four men to stay here and shoot anyone who shows up. I am going to make my report. The aristocrats have attempted to free the queen.’

“That was what came to be known as the Carnation Plot. The three principal actors were my father, the Chevalier de Maison-Rouge, and Toulan, and it led both my father and Toulan to the scaffold. The Chevalier de Maison-Rouge, who hid in a tannery in the Faubourg Saint-Victor, was able to escape unscathed.

“Before his execution, my father asked my elder brother to follow his example and to die as he did, for his sovereigns.”

“And how about your brother?” Claire murmured, clearly shaken by his tale. “Did he obey your father’s request?”

“You shall see,” Hector answered, “if you allow me to continue.”

“Oh, please, go on!” cried Claire. “I’m all ears and all heart!”

XIV Léon de Sainte-Hermine

“A SHORT TIME AFTER my father was executed, my mother, who had fallen ill upon hearing of his death, also died.

“I was unable to send my brother Léon word about this new misfortune because we’d had no news of him since the Battle of Berchem. But I wrote to my brother Charles in Avignon, and immediately he rushed back to Besançon.

“All that we knew about the Battle of Berchem and my brother’s fate came from the Prince de Condé himself. In her worry, my ailing mother had sent a messenger to him, but the messenger failed to return before my mother died. He arrived, in fact, on the same day as my brother did from Avignon.

“So we learned that on December 4, 1793, the Prince de Condé was headquartered in Berchem, where twice Pichegru launched an attack, but he was unable to hold the village after driving the prince out. When the émigrés retook the village, Léon performed extraordinary feats. Indeed, he was the first to enter the village, but then he disappeared and even the companions following close behind him had no idea where. They searched among the dead but did not find him. The general opinion was that, having advanced too rapidly in pursuit of the Republicans, he had been taken prisoner. Which was no better than death, since every prisoner who’d borne weapons was formally charged before the council of war and then shot.

“In the absence of news we had accepted that painful explanation when we were visited by a young man from Besançon who had been with the Rhine army. I say young man, but he was really just a child, scarcely fourteen years old, the son of one of my father’s former friends. He was only a year younger than I; we had been raised together. His name was Charles N.

“I was the first to see him. As I knew that he had been with General Pichegru for three months, I ran up to him, shouting: ‘Charles! Is that you? Have you any news of my brother?’

“‘Alas, yes,’ he replied. ‘Is your brother Charles also here?’

“When I answered yes, he said, ‘Well, then, send word to him. What I have to tell you requires his presence.’

“My brother soon appeared, and I told him Charles was bringing us news of Léon.

“‘Bad news, right?’

“‘I’m afraid so. Otherwise he would have already told us.’

“Then, without answering but smiling sadly, my young comrade pulled a garrison cap from under his vest and presented it to my brother. ‘You are now the head of the family,’ he said. ‘This relic now belongs to you.’

“‘What is this?’ my brother asked.

“‘The cap he was wearing when he was brought before the firing squad,’ Charles answered.

“‘So, it’s all over?’ my older brother asked, dry-eyed, though from my eyes, in spite of myself, tears were falling.

“‘Yes.’

“‘And he indeed did die?’

“‘Like a hero!’

“‘God be praised! Our honor is intact.… There must be something in this cap?’

“‘A letter.’

“My brother ran his hands over the cap, felt the paper, cut the lining with his pocketknife, and pulled out a letter: ‘“To my brother Charles,”’ he read. ‘“First of all, and above all, keep the news of my death from our mother as long as possible.”’

“‘So he died without knowing that our poor mother preceded him to death?’ my brother asked.

“‘No,’ said Charles. ‘I told him myself.’

“My brother turned back to the letter and continued reading:

“‘“I was captured in Berchem. My horse was shot out from under me, and when it fell I was caught underneath. There was no way to defend myself. I threw my sword aside, and four Republicans pulled me loose. They led me to the fortress in Auenheim to shoot me. Short of a miracle, nothing could save me.

“‘“My father had given his word to the king that he would die for the Royalist cause, and so he did. I gave my word to my father to defend to death the same cause, and so I am. You gave me your word, and so you will. If you too die, Hector will avenge us.

“‘“A prayer on my mother’s tomb. A fatherly kiss to Hector.

“‘“Adieu.

“‘“Léon de Sainte-Hermine

“‘“P.S. I don’t know how I shall be able to get this letter to you, but God will provide a way.”’”

“My brother raised the letter to his lips, gave it to me to kiss, and placed it against his heart. Then he said to Charles, ‘You were there when he died, you said?’

“‘Yes!’ Charles answered.

“‘In that case, tell me the whole story and don’t leave out a single detail.’

“‘It’s quite simple,’ said Charles. ‘I was on my way from Strasbourg to Citizen Pichegru’s headquarters in Auenheim, when, just beyond Sessenheim, a squadron of about twenty infantrymen, led by a captain on horseback, caught up with me. The twenty men were marching in two rows.

“‘In the middle of the road, like me, a cavalry soldier was walking. It was easy to see that he was in the cavalry, because he was wearing riding boots with spurs. A large white coat covered him from the shoulders down, and all I could see of him was a young, intelligent face that seemed familiar to me. He was wearing a garrison cap, of a shape unusual in the French army.

“‘The captain saw me walking near the young man in the white coat, and since I looked younger than I really am, he kindly asked, “Where are you going, my young citizen?”

“‘“I’m going to General Pichegru’s headquarters,” I replied. “Do I still have far to go?”

“‘“About another two hundred yards,” the young man in the white coat answered. “Look, there, at the end of this avenue we’ve just started down, you can see the first houses in Auenheim.” It seemed strange that he nodded toward the village instead of pointing to it.

“‘“Thank you,” I told him, and began walking faster, away from him, since he didn’t seem to appreciate my presence. But he called me back.

“‘“By my faith, young friend,” he said, “if you are not in too much of a hurry, you should slow down and travel with us. That would give me time to ask you about our country.”

“‘“What country?”

“‘“Come now!” he said. “Are you not from Besançon, or at least from the Franche-Comté?”

“‘I stared at him in astonishment. His accent, his face, the way he held himself—everything about him brought back childhood memories. Clearly, I had known this handsome young man in the past.

“‘“Of course,” he said with a laugh, “perhaps you want to remain incognito.”

“‘“Not at all, Citizen,” I answered. “I was just thinking of Theophrastus, to whom the Athenians had given the nickname Good Speaker, and after he had lived in Athens for fifty years, a fruit-seller identified him as a native of the Island of Lesbos.”

“‘“You are well-read, monsieur,” my traveling companion said. “That is a luxury in such times as these.”

“‘“Not really,” I answered. “I am going to join General Pichegru, who himself is well-read, and I’m hoping, thanks to a recommendation I am carrying for him, to get a job as his secretary. And how about you, citizen?” I added, goaded by curiosity. “Are you with the army?”

“‘He began to laugh. “Not precisely,” he said.

“‘“Well, then,” I went on, “you must be attached to the administration.”

“‘“Attached,” he repeated, and laughed again. “Yes, that’s right, you have chosen the right word, monsieur. However, I am not attached to the administration; I am attached to myself.”

“‘“But,” I said, lowering my voice, “you are using formal address with me, and you even called me monsieur out loud. Are you not afraid that you might lose your place?”

“‘“Ah! Say, Captain,” the young man in the white coat shouted, “this young citizen is afraid I might lose my place because I’m still using formal address and am calling him monsieur. Do you know anyone who would like to have my place? If so, I bow to such a man.”

“‘“Poor fellow!” the captain muttered with a shrug.

“‘“Say, young man,” my traveling companion said, “since you are from Besançon—and you are from there, are you not?”

“‘I nodded that I was.

“‘“Then you must know the Sainte-Hermine family.”

“‘“Yes,” I answered. “A widow and three sons.”

“‘“Three sons. Yes, that’s right,” he added with a sigh. “There are still three of them. Thank you. How long has it been since you left Besançon?”

“‘“Scarcely seven or eight days ago.”

“‘“So you can give me any recent news?”

“‘“Yes, but it’s sad news as well.”

“‘“Go on, tell me.”

“‘“The evening before I left, we went, my father and I, to the countess’s funeral.”

“‘“Ah!” the young man said, raising his eyes to the heavens, “the countess has died!”

“‘“Yes.”

“‘“It’s for the best.” He raised his eyes again, and two large tears rolled down his cheeks.

“‘“What do you mean, it’s for the best?” I objected. “She was a saintly woman.”

“‘“All the more reason,” the young man replied. “Was it not better for her to die from illness rather than from the sadness of learning that her son went before the firing squad?”

“‘“What?” I cried. “The Comte de Sainte-Hermine has been shot?”

“‘“No, but he will be.”

“‘“When?”

“‘“When we get to the fortress at Auenheim.”

“‘“So the Comte de Sainte-Hermine is in the fortress?”

“‘“No, but that is where they are taking him.”

“‘“And he’ll be shot?”

“‘“As soon as I get there.”

“‘“Are you the one charged with the execution?”

“‘“No, but I shall give the order to fire. They never refuse that favor to a good soldier taken with arms in hand, even if he is an émigré.”

“‘“Oh, my God!” I cried in horror. “Are…?”

“‘Again, the young man burst into laughter. “That is why I laughed when you were asking me to be careful. That is why I was proposing my place to anyone who might want it, for I had no fear of losing it. As you were saying, I am indeed attached!” And only then, with a shake of his shoulders to open his coat, did he show me his bound hands and two arms attached behind him.

“‘“But then,” I cried in terror, “you are.…”

“‘“The Comte de Sainte-Hermine, young man. You see that I was correct in saying that it was better for my poor mother to die.”

“‘“Oh, my God,” I cried.

“‘“Fortunately,” the Comte went on, his teeth clenched, “my brothers are still alive.”

“In one voice, we both shouted yes, my brother and I, and vowed that we’d avenge him,” said Hector.

“So,” Mademoiselle de Sourdis asked, “that was your brother they were going to shoot?”

“Yes,” Hector answered. “Is it enough for you to know the result, or would you like to know the details of his final moments? These details, each word of which made our own hearts beat doubly faster, may be of slight interest to you, since you never knew poor Léon.”

“Oh, on the contrary, tell me everything,” Mademoiselle de Sourdis cried out. “Don’t leave out a single word. Was not Monsieur Léon de Sainte-Hermine a relative of mine, and do I not have the right to follow him all the way to his tomb?”

“That is exactly what we said to my young friend Charles.”

“‘You can imagine,’ young Charles continued, ‘how upset I was to learn that the man walking beside me, a man full of youth who could speak so lightly of events, was going to die. And that he was a compatriot, the head of one of our most important families, the Comte de Sainte-Hermine.

“‘“Is there no way to save you?” I whispered.

“‘“Frankly, I have to say that I don’t see any,” he answered. “If I did, I’d try it without wasting another second.”

“‘“Although I’m unable to offer you any great service, I would like to be useful to you in some way, and while I can’t save you from death, perhaps I can at least make your death less painful, to help you somehow in the face of it.”

“‘“Since I first saw you I have been turning an idea over in my head.”

“‘“Tell me what it is.”

“‘“There may be some danger, and I don’t want it to frighten you.”

“‘“I’m ready to do anything to serve you.”

“‘“I would like to send news to my brother.”

“‘“I take it upon myself to do it for you.”

“‘“It’s a letter.”

“‘“I shall take it to him.”

“‘“I could give it to the captain. He’s a good man; he would probably have it sent to its destination.”

“‘“With the captain,” I answered, “it’s only probable. With me, it’s certain.”

“‘“Well, then, listen carefully.” I stepped closer, and he said, “The letter has already been written; it’s sewn into my cap.”

“‘“Very well.”

“‘“You must ask the captain for permission to be present at my execution.”

“‘“Me!” I answered, and my forehead broke out in cold sweat.

“‘“Don’t dismiss the idea out of hand. An execution is always interesting. Many people attend them simply for the enjoyment of it.”

“‘“I haven’t the courage.…”

“‘“Come now. Everything happens so quickly.”

“‘“I couldn’t! Never!”

“‘“Let’s say nothing more about it then,” said the count. “All you need to tell my brothers, if you happen to run into them, is that we met as they were about to send me to the firing squad.” And he began to whistle the tune from Vive Henry IV.

“‘I quickly moved still closer. “Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

“‘“Well, now, you’re a very kind boy. Thank you!”

“‘“But.…”

“‘“What?”

“‘“But you have to be the one who asks the captain if I can be present. I could not bear it if they thought that I wanted to watch for pleasure.”

“‘“Very well. I shall tell him that we are from the same region, and I’ll ask him to let me send something of mine to my brother, my cap, for instance. Such things happen all the time. Besides, you understand, there is nothing suspicious about a garrison cap.”

“‘“No.”

“‘“When I give the order to fire, I shall toss it aside. Don’t act too much in a hurry to pick it up. Wait until I’m dead.”

“‘“Oh!” I gasped, turning pale. My whole body began to tremble.

“‘“Who has a little alcohol for my young fellow countryman?” your brother asked. “He’s cold.”

“‘“Come here, my good boy,” said the captain. He handed me his flask. I drank a swallow, then thanked him.

“‘“At your service.… A swallow, Citizen Sainte-Hermine?” he shouted to the prisoner.

“‘“Thank you very much, Captain,” he answered. “I never drink alcohol.”

“‘I walked back to where he was, and he continued with his instructions to me. “So, when I’m dead, you’ll pick up my cap, but treat it as if it were a thing of no importance. But you realize of course that my last wishes, the last wishes of a dying man, are sacred, and that the letter I’ve hidden in the cap must be delivered to my brother. If the cap is inconvenient, slip out the letter and toss the cap into a ditch somewhere. As for the letter, are you sure you won’t lose it?”

“‘“No,” I said, trying to hold back my tears. “I mean, I’m sure.”

“‘“You won’t misplace it?”

“‘“No, no! You can rest easy.”

“‘“And you will give it to my brother yourself?”

“‘“Yes, I shall do so myself.”

“‘“To my brother Charles, the elder. He has the same name as you, so it will be easy to remember.”

“‘“To him and to no other.”

“‘“Be sure of that! So, and then he’ll ask you how I died, and you’ll tell him. And he’ll say, ‘Good, I had a good brother,’ and when his turn comes, he’ll die like me.”

“‘We came to a fork in the road; one road led to General Pichegru’s headquarters, the other to the fortress. I tried to speak, but no words came to my mouth. I looked at your brother beseechingly. He smiled.

“‘“Captain,” he said. “A favor.”

“‘“What favor? If it’s in my power.…”

“‘“Perhaps it’s a weakness, but you’ll keep it between us, won’t you? At the moment of my death, I would like to embrace a fellow countryman. This young man and I are both from the Juras, both our families live in Besançon and are friends. Someday he will go back home, and he will tell how we happened to meet and how he accompanied me until my final moments. Then he will tell how I died.”

“‘The captain looked at me; I was weeping. “Of course!” he said. “If that is what would please you both.”

“‘“I don’t believe,” your brother said with a laugh, “that it will please the boy very much, but it will indeed please me.”

“‘“Since it’s you who are making the request.”

“‘“So, you agree?” the prisoner asked.

“‘“I agree,” the captain answered.

“‘“You see,” he said as I walked beside him, “so far things are going perfectly well.”

“‘We marched up the hill, were recognized, and walked across the drawbridge. For a moment we waited in the courtyard while the captain went to announce to the colonel that we had arrived and to communicate to him the execution orders.

“‘A few minutes later, he reappeared in the doorway. “Are you ready?” he asked the prisoner.

“‘“Whenever you are, Captain,” the prisoner answered.

“‘“Do you have any comments to make?”

“‘“No, but several favors to request.”

“‘“I shall grant whatever lies within my power.”

“‘“Thank you, Captain.”

“‘The captain walked over to your brother. “We may serve under enemy flags, but we are still both French, and good men can spot each other at first sight. What do you wish?”

“‘“First, that you remove these ropes, which make me look like a thief.”

“‘“That is only just. Untie the prisoner.”

“‘I rushed over and grabbed the count’s hands; I had untied him before anyone else had time to draw near.

“‘“Oh!” said the count, flexing his arms under his coat. “It feels good to be free.”

“‘“And now,” asked the captain, “what else do you wish?”

“‘“I would like to be the one to give the order to fire.”

“‘“You may give the order. Anything else?”

“‘“I would like to send some souvenir to my family.”

“‘“You know it is forbidden for anyone to accept letters from political prisoners before they are shot. Anything else, yes.”

“‘“I don’t want to cause any problems. This is my young countryman, Charles. As you have authorized, he will be accompanying me to the place of execution. He can take responsibility for giving my family, not a letter, but something of mine. This old cap, for example.”

“‘“Is that all?” asked the captain.

“‘“I think so,” the count answered. “It is time. I’m beginning to get cold feet, and cold feet are what I hate most in the world. Let’s go, Captain—I presume you are coming with us.”

“‘“It’s my duty.”

“‘The count bowed, and with a laugh like a man who is pleased at having gotten what he wanted, he shook my hand.

“‘“Which way?” he asked.

“‘“This way,” said the captain, starting out at the head of the column. Following him, we passed through a gate and entered a second courtyard where sentinels were walking back and forth on the ramparts above. The wall at the back of the courtyard was peppered with bullet holes at about a man’s height.