"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 One Hundred, The Parisian Life, by Mordaunt
I have trod a measure. I have flattereda lady. I have been politic with my friend,smooth with mine enemy…W. Shakespeare, As you like it, Act 5, scene 4, 46-48 (The Folger) Athos enters Alessandra’s salon, carrying a sheaf of papers and drops into a chair, stretching out his legs and letting out a long exhausted … Continue reading Chapter One Hundred, The Parisian Life, by Mordaunt
Chapter Ninety-Eight, House of Bourbon, by Mordaunt
At Fontainebleau, the King is irritable and quick to take offense. Everything displeases him, beginning with the weather. Too many summer storms have been interrupting the garden fêtes, and spoiling the riding parties. The hunts have been disappointing and unrewarding. Even the ballet inspired by French proverbs, ardently promoted by Monsieur de Saint-Aignan, has turned … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Eight, House of Bourbon, by Mordaunt
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 Seventy-Nine, Jeu de la Bête, by Mordaunt
Jeu de la Bête was a 17th c French trick-taking card game, derived from the earlier (16th c) Spanish game Ombre (Homme, in French). It is named after the bête (beast), a term that referred to the penalty for failing to take the required number of tricks or for various infringements. The silence that envelops … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Nine, Jeu de la Bête, by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-Seven, Gilded Lilly, by Mordaunt
To gild refined gold, to paint the lilyTo throw a perfume on the violetTo smooth the ice, or add another hueUnto the rainbow, or with taper-lightTo seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.(William Shakespeare, King John, Act 4- Scene 2) It has been more than a fortnight since Layla’s encounter … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Seven, Gilded Lilly, by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-Five, Le Mat d’ Escalier (Two-Rook Checkmate), by Mordaunt
Leaving Glénay is not easy. There is too much uncertainty for those Raoul and Marie Cessette leave behind. There is too much uncertainty for the two of them also, even though neither has revealed the true extent of their concerns to their loved ones. At the courtyard of Glénay they say their last farewells, full … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Five, Le Mat d’ Escalier (Two-Rook Checkmate), by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-Four, Dreams and Plans, by Corso
“Here you are,” Sophia leans against the door frame watching her husband rest his head against the back of the tub. The room is warm as steam rises from the hot water. She closes the door against the cool air and kneels beside the tub. She dips a hand into the water, dribbling it over … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Four, Dreams and Plans, by Corso
Chapter Seventy, Veiled Child, by Mordaunt
Outside the door of Alessandra’s chamber the only sounds are the shuffling of the people coming and going and their careful whispering. It was not the same when Sylvie gave birth. It was not the same when Petite was born. It was never this quiet. Seated next to Athos at the bench outside Alessandra’s room, … Continue reading Chapter Seventy, Veiled Child, by Mordaunt
Chapter Sixty-eight, Ne m’oublie pas (Forget me not), by Mordaunt
Athos has been here before and remembers every painful moment. At Bragelonne when Sylvie died. At Saint Denis before Petite was born. After Rouen, when he followed Alessandra to Venice. He has been here before, and yet, remembering offers him no solace. Before, he was a different man. Sophia, his sister, lays a gentle hand … Continue reading Chapter Sixty-eight, Ne m’oublie pas (Forget me not), by Mordaunt
Twelve Years After 