"I love you neither with my heart nor with my mind.My heart might stop, my mind can forget.I love you with my soul,because my soul never stops or forgets. Lucien’s desk is covered with dark velvet lined trays. A small round headed man touches the trays with nervous movements, making slight adjustments to display the … Continue reading Chapter One Hundred One, The Transcendent Soul, by Corso
Chapter Ninety-Seven, Faber est suae quisque fortunae, by Corso
“Every man is the artisan (or maker) of his own fortune…’ “What are all these lists?” Lucien leans over Sophia’s escritoire to inspect the piles of parchment. “Shoo,” she says waving him away from her desk, “I have a system and you are making a mess of it.” “Do sit down dear, you seem hungry,” … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Seven, Faber est suae quisque fortunae, by Corso
Chapter Ninety-Six, House of Stuart, by Mordaunt
Marie Cessette is not surprised by Raoul’s pigeon post. Part of her wonders whether she has not known the truth already. “Is it bad news?” Père Gazil wrings his hands anxiously. The visit to Le Maupertus has left him unnerved, and he has not kept his fears to himself. “We should never have come to … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Six, House of Stuart, by Mordaunt
Chapter Ninety-Five, What Really Happened at Le Maupertus? by Corso
The tavern door swings shut, every man’s eye watching the blonde woman sweep from the tavern, armed men in her wake. Renacer watches the door, as though expecting her to return and give him one last cold disdainful look. He chuckles to himself as he would not mind another glimpse of the arrogant tilt of … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Five, What Really Happened at Le Maupertus? by Corso
Chapter Ninety-Four, House of Richelieu, by Mordaunt
Messages and letters have been piling on Raoul’s desk throughout the night and continue as dawn breaks over the Faubourg Saint-Germain. He is used to being thus inundated despite the fact that to sort his office’s regular vast correspondence he employs a few competent and trusted secretaries. But this morning he is neither at his … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Four, House of Richelieu, by Mordaunt
Chapter Ninety-Two, Next Moves, by Corso
“This is a good list Paul,” Lucien studies the paper carefully. “We choose one or two from each of the Baltic ports, Ireland and ….” He runs his finger down the page, considering each ship, seeking the right combination of distant ports, cargo and captains. “Susa and Algiers,” he looks over the page at Paul … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Two, Next Moves, by Corso
Chapter Ninety, Calculating Strategy, by Corso
Dawn on day one… The sun’s advance is heralded by a brilliant band of yellow, pink and gold hovering at the edge of the earth. In the dark crowded yard, under flickering lamplight and pending dawn, the dust is rising. Carriages and wagons are lined up, the horses moving restively in the traces, bobbing their … Continue reading Chapter Ninety, Calculating Strategy, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-Nine, Family Near and Far, by Corso
…Glenay… Lucien throws down the quill and rubs his eyes, flexing his neck side to side. There is a knot between his shoulders. He blows out his breath and looks toward the sputtering fireplace, standing to put fresh logs on it. “Which one of us is in charge of this fire?” Lucien inquires gruffly, positions … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Nine, Family Near and Far, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-Seven, The Riddle of Rochefort, by Corso
…Glenay… He is still holding her hand, carrying the lantern in his other hand as they enter the house and go up the stairs. Lucien turns toward their bedchamber when he feels her hand slip from his. “What?” he says moving back to her. “Come with me.” She turns in the opposite direction. “Shall I … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Seven, The Riddle of Rochefort, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-One, Lèon, by Mordaunt
In the heat of midday the stonewall feels pleasantly cool against Athos’ back. He exhales loudly as he sits at the bench, reaching for his flask of water. “Was that too much for you, Old Man?” Seated next to Athos, Lucien sounds equally out of breath. Just like Athos, he is covered in mud and … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-One, Lèon, by Mordaunt
Twelve Years After 