Emilie nodded, grim-faced. “I’m aware of that. I took a tremendous risk in coming tonight. But I’m glad I did. You see, I’ve tried every way possible to end my engagement and convince my parents that I can’t marry Lucien, but they refuse to listen. They see this marriage as a last chance to save the plantation and their falling social status. You see, we’re practically penniless. Nothing in the world will change their minds.”
“What do you propose to do about it?” he asked, studying her face over the flickering candle.
“I don’t have a clue,” she said. “Everything I tried has failed, including voodoo, which I’m ashamed to admit.”
Rémy took her hand in his. “No need to be ashamed. I understand why you did it. If I was in your situation, I probably would have done the same. Back in Africa they have a saying: ‘If you marry a monkey for his wealth, the money goes, and the monkey remains as is.’”
“So you understand my situation perfectly,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “You’re quite charming, Denis. Tell me something about yourself. You’re a mystery to me.”
“What would you like to know?” he said.
“Like you say, it’s always best to start at the beginning.”
Rémy poured himself another drink. “I think I’ll need a dose of liquid courage to answer that one. Not much escapes your scrutiny. You’re a very inquisitive young lady.”
“It’s because I observe everything. For instance, I noticed how you slipped the maître d’ money for this choice corner seat.”
Rémy lowered his voice. “I had a very good reason for that. I wanted to sit as far away as possible from that captain over there. Do you see the officer with the deep-set eyes, pockmarked skin, and rigid bearing? That’s Captain Renoult. In my opinion he’s no credit to his regiment. He’s angry, violent, and given to drunkenness. I’ve seen him making threats against junior officers. There’s no place in the army for a guy like that. He’s bad for camaraderie.”
“Has he threatened you?”
“I mostly stay out of his way,” said Rémy.
“He looks like an alligator,” said Emilie.
“An alligator is more predictable,” said Rémy.
“Denis, please don’t think me too forward, but there’s something I wish to know. Have you ever been in love before?”
He took another sip of champagne and said, “I’m deeply in love with the army, although I can’t say she loves me back.”
“I meant with a woman.”
“Don’t knock the army; she can be a jealous lover. She hates it when other women try to steal her men away. She’s vengeful, spiteful, and entirely without mercy. She’ll throw a starry-eyed soldier into jail if he should dare switch allegiance. She demands complete fidelity. So I hope you’ll understand if I try to avoid getting on her bad side. I honor her as required by saluting my commanding officers and pledging eternal devotion, but when I lie down at night, I never tell her what’s in my heart. Some things must remain secret.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Actually, I’m quite serious,” he said with gravity. “You see, I’m married to the army. I’ve sworn allegiance to la Mère Patrie, and I’m prepared to lay down my life for her. Beyond that there’s not much more to tell.”
“Have you never been in love with a real woman?”
“There may have been one or two in the past, but that’s all over now. All I want is to serve my country to the best of my ability with whatever time I have left. That is the highest form of love in my opinion. Is that a fair answer to your question?”
She cocked her head to the side and regarded him boldly. “Don’t you want more out of life?”
“Now you’re wading into treacherous waters,” he said, assuming a philosophical look. “My dear girl, I’ve learned to live moment by moment and ask as little from life as possible. It’s impossible to predict the future. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? So let’s make the most of the present, shall we? My only regret is that I was exiled from my regiment in Africa. At that moment I knew what it was like when a woman slaps your face in a fit of jealousy. The army can be a cold and vicious lover. And to me she was merciless. I had grown quite fond of Africa and her people. To the chief of the Bambara, I was almost like a son . . .” His voice broke, and he gazed off in the distance.
“Why did you leave Africa?”
“Perhaps it’s best we don’t talk about it,” he said.
“Please, I want to know everything about you—the good, the bad, and the in-between. I’m not afraid of the truth.”
Rémy reached out and touched her cheek. “Emilie, you are unlike any person I have ever known. I hold you very dear to my heart for many reasons. Your love, trust, and support are unsurpassed.” He finished his drink in one gulp. “Well, since we’ve come this far, I suppose there’s no turning back. During my last mission, the one I told you about before, I discovered that a fellow officer was mistreating his soldier-servant, an ordonnance. I reported it to our commanding officer, and when he interrogated the ordonnance, he refused to implicate the officer. I suppose he was frightened for his life. The officer in question was a vicious brute. The next thing I know, I was accused of filing false charges. After a court-martial, I was demoted in rank and sent into exile. My superiors warned me that any further misconduct on my part would get me shipped off to the penal colony in French Guiana, which is tantamount to a death sentence.”
“Why didn’t they believe you?”
“It was my word against his, and the ordonnance refused to testify, and that, my dear, is the whole sordid affair.”
“But you did an honorable thing. You tried to save a man’s life.”
“Yes, but I disgraced myself in the process and ruined my career.” Rémy’s voice tapered off, drowned out by the voices in the restaurant. “I try not to think about it too much. It doesn’t matter anyway. At least here the rum is cheap and plentiful. The only thing I don’t care for is the politics.”
Emilie laughed. “You’ll have to get used to it. Mudslinging is almost a national sport in the West Indies. I suppose you’ve seen all those scandalous posters covering the walls.”
“They leave little to the imagination.” He grinned.
“Anyway, you have more important matters to attend to, even more important than drinking yourself into oblivion. You have to convince the governor to evacuate the people before the volcano erupts.”
“That will be an uphill battle.”
“Why?”
Rémy’s face turned serious. “Because the governor is dead set against it. I was in a meeting with him last Monday right here in this hotel with Professor Landes and several other officials. Based on my observations, I believe he thinks the runoff election has top priority over the volcano. He fears creating a panic, so he prefers to sweep the whole business under the carpet. Apparently the election has serious ramifications for the business community and the landowners. The men in charge want the Progressives to win at all costs. I suspect the governor only sent us as a matter of formality. I don’t think he ever had any intention of evacuating Saint-Pierre.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious,” he said. “But don’t let it get out. I’m telling you in strictest confidence. If the people find out the governor is deliberately withholding information about the volcano, it could create a panic.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Right now I don’t have a plan. As a soldier, I’m just following orders.”
“So they intend to do nothing—just sweep everything under the carpet. But surely if you told them your suspicions, they would listen—”
Rémy shook his head. “It’s not that simple. There are powerful political headwinds. During our meeting, the only subject that seemed to concern the governor was the issue of separation of church and state. When confronted with the danger from the volcano, he cried out, ‘Gentlemen, we must get our priorities straight! The economy is far mor
e important than the rumbling volcano.’ I looked at Professor Landes, and we both fell silent, thinking it better that we keep our concerns to ourselves rather than risk repercussions from interfering in their precious election.”
“It’s clear he doesn’t understand how serious the matter is,” said Emilie.
“He understands what he wants to understand. I’m no politician, but he seemed more interested in appeasing M. Decrais at the Colonial Office than protecting the civilians. I’m a simple artillery officer, so I can’t say for certain when and if the volcano will erupt; only that it seems likely. What am I basing it on—fear? That’s hardly scientific now, is it?”
Emilie fell silent for a moment. “Perhaps M. Mirville was right when he said the worst was over. Perhaps we are exaggerating the danger.”
Rémy looked at her wryly. “And if he’s wrong? Can we afford to take that chance? But let’s not talk about that now. We have a few precious minutes together, so let’s not spoil it. Do you know how often I think about that trip up the mountain? Do you know, that’s the first truly enjoyable day I’ve had in months, years even.”
“And I suppose it was fun seeing me covered in all that ash and mud.”
Rémy held her hand tight. “I was moved in ways I cannot explain. I see you as a product of this unspoiled tropical world, as beautiful and natural as the balisier flowers and the hummingbirds. Sometimes I feel like Degas in Tahiti. To me you’re more fascinating than those Tahitian girls he painted.”
Emilie’s cheeks flushed. “Look, you’ve got me blushing.”
“Forgive me for my candor,” he said. “I realize you belong to another man. I can’t offer you the life he can, not on my salary. Perhaps you should marry M. Monplaisir. He’ll keep you in grand style with a villa and servants and annual shopping trips to Paris. You’ll lack for nothing. Maybe he’ll even land a seat in the National Assembly or the governor’s mansion. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not in love with Lucien.”
“Then, Emilie, you indeed have a serious problem. Here, let’s have more champagne. It will help us to drink away our sorrows. I’m not needed at the garrison tonight.”
Emilie was taken aback. “Pardon me?”
“Forgive me; I didn’t mean that,” he said hastily. “I’m a gentleman, after all. I was referring to champagne’s reputed medicinal qualities. It’s been known to heal many broken hearts. If you feel half of what I feel, you’ll need a few bottles to forget your worries.”
Emilie sipped her champagne and watched as he drank. She was so moved by Rémy’s heartfelt words that she sat motionless for a few minutes, feeling an intense longing that enveloped her in warmth. He took her hand in his, pulled her close, and whispered words in her ear that she’d never expected to hear. She felt her resolve slipping away. Her heart pounded with desire. As they laughed and chatted, a sullen figure entered the dining room, a tall man with a scowling face, dark hair, broad shoulders, and a heavy gait that Emilie knew too well. He made his way through the dining room, shoving his brooding form past the waiters until he reached the table where Emilie and Rémy sat, and then he came to an abrupt halt.
Lucien stood before them, his face a mask of rage.
“What the devil’s going on here?” he said.
Emilie paled. “Lucien, what are you doing here?”
“I should ask you the same thing,” he said, visibly trembling. “Who is this man?”
Rémy stood up. “My name is Lt. Denis Rémy of the Fourth Regiment at Fort Saint-Pierre. How do you do?”
Rémy held out his hand, but Lucien refused to shake it.
“I don’t care who you are,” said Lucien with derision. “What are you doing with my fiancée?”
“As you can see, we are having dinner.”
“Not anymore.” Lucien grabbed Emilie’s hand. “She’s coming with me.”
Emilie struggled to free herself, but Lucien held her with an iron grip.
“Lucien, stop!” she said, glancing around nervously. “People are watching!”
Lucien pulled her out of her seat. “I said we’re going. We’ll discuss this later.”
Rémy laid a hand on Lucien’s shoulder. “The lady said she doesn’t want to go with you.”
Lucien shoved Rémy away. “Don’t touch me. She’s coming with me. You have no business with her.”
“M. Monplaisir, let her go, or I shall have to use force.”
Struggling, Emilie said, “Lucien, you’re embarrassing me in front of all these people. We were only having a simple dinner.”
“You should have thought of that before you agreed to meet this scoundrel. I know his type—a useless piece of rubbish, the kind the Colonial Office is always trying to pawn off on us. I see them congregating on rue Bouillé, starting fights and causing trouble.”
Rémy stepped forward and held on to Emilie. “Leave the lady alone, or I shall have to—”
Before Rémy could finish, Lucien punched him in the jaw. Rémy staggered backward and then returned the punch, knocking Lucien sideways, where he landed on a table. The dishes crashed to the floor, causing the other patrons to shriek with fright. The waiters moved in, circling the combatants. Furious, Lucien lunged at Rémy’s throat with murderous intent, but the older man was too quick and blocked his arm. He struck Lucien across the face, hurling him to the floor, covered with spilled cutlery and broken plates. By now pandemonium broke out, as the two men were locked in combat. The maître d’ raced toward them, calling for the gendarmes as silverware and plates crashed to the floor. And then, to Emilie’s horror, Lucien sprang at Rémy, and they ended up in a heap on the floor, fists flying as they pounded each other. Suddenly Lucien grabbed a bottle and smashed it on Rémy’s head, causing the officer to collapse in a heap, blood dripping from a cut on his head. Staggering to his feet, Lucien grabbed Emilie by the arm and dragged her out of the hotel.
As they fled past the startled onlookers, Emilie struggled to free herself.
“Let me go!” she screamed. “You’re an animal. You have no right to spy on me!”
“I have every right to spy on you,” said Lucien, seething with anger. “You lied to me; you lied to your parents, and you acted like a tart, sneaking off with another man. I caught you red-handed. How could you do this to me? I’ll be the laughingstock of tomorrow’s newspapers. I saw Marius Hurard in the cafe.”
He led her to his carriage and opened the door in a huff. “This will teach you not to humiliate me in public!” Seething with anger, Lucien slapped her across the face and shoved her into the carriage. Emilie screamed, and the carriage driver tried to intervene, but Lucien ordered him to leave her alone. She clawed at Lucien’s face, but he was too quick, and he blocked her.
“How dare you?” she said. “And you call yourself a gentleman?”
“And you call yourself a lady?” he said with derision. “I can only guess as to what else you’ve been lying about. I’ll soon get to the bottom of it. You’re lucky I caught on to the affair early enough before you got yourself into real trouble.”
“What I do is none of your business. You don’t own me.”
“It’s every bit my business,” he said, seizing her with his iron grip. “You’re my fiancée, and I intend to make that scoundrel pay for what he’s done. If I catch him near you again, I’ll shoot him, and you’ll pay for it as well.”
Emilie’s face turned white. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“It would be my pleasure to blow that bastard’s brains out. Of course, under the circumstances, the court would show me every leniency. Dozens of people saw you with him tonight. The trial would be a mere formality.”
“You would resort to murder?” said Emilie. “Like a savage?”
“No court in the civilized world would convict a man of murder if he could prove he was defending his honor. The law is on my side.”
“Not entirely,” said Emilie in an icy tone. “First a defendant has to prove he has any honor worth defending,
which you obviously don’t.”
“And what about you, my darling?” said Lucien with a sneer. “Did you behave like an honorable lady tonight?”
Emilie recoiled at Lucien’s insult. She had never seen him so filled with rage. She was suddenly petrified.
As the carriage trundled through the darkened cobblestoned streets, Lucien lit a cigarette and drummed his fingers on the windowsill. He continued to rant and rave, flicking his ashes in a show of fury. Emilie turned her face away and tried to stifle the tears, but it was impossible. She endured his curses, his raging, and his threats, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole to end her nightmare. She closed her eyes, but she could not squeeze back the tears of frustration at the idea of spending her life with this intolerably abusive man. Life with Lucien was a long, slow, torturous agony. The brief interlude she had spent with Rémy had shown her there was happiness to be found in this world, and maybe, just maybe, one day it could be hers. Or maybe I’m deluding myself, she thought. Maybe my fate is to spend the rest of my life with Lucien in sorrow and misery. The thought sent a shiver up her spine. A sob escaped her throat. When she glanced over at Lucien and saw him fingering his revolver, terror seized her.
Chapter 25
Friday, May 2
The next morning began with a violent, driving thunderstorm. Rain pelted the island with a vengeance, coating every surface with wet volcanic ash that muddied the streets, the buildings, and all the fields with an ugly gray film. In the northern district of Saint-Pierre, several inches of wet, cementlike paste accumulated over every surface. In the distance, a distinct rumbling noise could be heard that was deeper and louder than before.
Cattle and horses began to keel over from hunger and thirst from the contaminated water. Ash and cinders coated everything. Rats scurried through the gutters looking like white mice, their fur covered in a fine, powdery ash. Every now and then, shutters would fling open as worried citizens peered out, troubled by the sight of volcanic debris that had begun to collect on the ground. In their eyes was a deep sense of foreboding.
Island on Fire Page 17