Love and Honor

by Harry Samkange

  “Tragedies and poems of love, Monsieur, for they speak to the most important truths. Though it is useful to inform the mind, it is nobler, I believe, to nurture the heart. Is that not the true task of gentlemen? Reflect well on the history you love and you will find that the source of great deeds is often great love…or hatred. Both are matters of the heart,” Sérolène said softly.

  “Your wisdom surpasses even your beauty; long shall I remember both,” Nicolas declared. Sérolène pinkened with pleasure, looking away to briefly conceal the happy embarrassment of being so delightfully appreciated.

  “How is it possible, Monsieur, that we have only just met and yet you seem to know me so well?” And why have I been chattering away with you as if we’ve grown up together since childhood, when the truth is that I hardly know you at all? she wondered.

  “Perhaps I ask too much, Mademoiselle; but since I have already been wrongfully accused of flattery, will you allow me to speak to you sincerely of all that is in my heart…?” Nicolas began. His words however, were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and muffled but familiar voices.

  “It’s my uncle! We must go!” Sérolène said with alarm, quickly placing the book Nicolas had been reading back on the shelf to remove the most obvious signs of their presence. Taking Nicolas by the hand, she hurried to the far wall where a hidden door ushered them into an unlit service corridor, just as the inner door to the library began to open toward them. Closing the door behind them, she made her way down the stairs in almost total darkness, guided only by the faint glow of distant lamps from below.

  “That was close. Let’s go down this way,” she said, indicating the direction with a gentle pull of her hand, knowing the back passageways of the château by heart.

  “Where will it take us?” Nicolas asked.

  “It leads to the kitchens. We can safely rejoin everyone from there. But first…you must repay me for rescuing you back there,” she whispered playfully.

  “Rescuing me, Mademoiselle? On the contrary, I believe I have never been in greater peril than I am now,” he said gravely, entranced by the touch of her hand in his own, and the nearness of her in the darkness.

  “What danger can there be here to trouble us? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark!” she teased, his sweet attentions gently pulling upon her heartstrings.

  “Dear Mademoiselle, do you not already sense it? An hour ago my heart was unbound and entirely my own…now…” Nicolas hesitated, unsure if he dared go on.

  “Now what, dear Nicolas?” Sérolène prompted, squeezing his hand tenderly.

  “I have known you but a short time, and yet somehow, you have already made me adore you,” he whispered ardently.

  “If that is so, then it will be a trifle for you to promise to love and cherish me forever,” she replied, intending only to tease him in the way young girls do, not daring to say what she really felt, and without experience enough in love to say what was simply fashionable.

  “Upon my honor I do swear it!” Nicolas declared with every fiber of his being.

  Long seconds passed in extended silence, neither of them seeming to move or breathe. Nicolas could see the outlines of Sérolène’s face in the dimly lit darkness, her eyes absorbing and reflecting the limited light. Have I said the wrong thing, was she only playing me for a fool? he wondered confusedly as she abruptly released his hand. The unexpected press of her lips against his own, filled his senses with a burst of ecstasy that was sublime beyond his imagining. It produced such a wonderful feeling of elation -- as if all in the world was good and right and centered on their two pairs of lips -- that he could hardly bear it. When Sérolène at last drew back after a brief but sweet eternity, she lay her head against Nicolas’ chest as he tenderly cradled her in his arms. Neither dared speak, the wonder of what had just passed between them overawing them into silence, though they were both deliciously aware of every sensation.

  “My dearest Nicolas, we must go before we are discovered here,” she said at last, the experience of her first kiss more unexpected and therefore more glorious than she’d ever imagined possible. He nodded his reply in the darkness, still too overcome to speak. Taking him by the hand, she went down the service stairway toward the kitchens, where the evening meal was busily being prepared. Nicolas followed blindly along, content to go wherever she led him, transported along in the wake of the angel or sorceress who had captured his heart, and from whose grasp he had no wish ever to be released.

  III. Alliance

  “There you are, my dear. We’d begun to think we’d lost you,” Madame de Salvagnac said anxiously as the Baron de Salvagnac entered the salle à manger arm in arm with the Marquis de Blaise. She studied her husband’s demeanor carefully. What has he concluded in his tête-à-tête in the library? They appear to be on the most cordial of terms, but I must know what, if anything, has been agreed to, or if they’re just putting on a brave show, she thought to herself.

  Over the many years of their marriage, Madame la Baronne de Salvagnac had maintained considerable influence over her husband in domestic affairs. The key to her success was as simple as it was indirect. Ever mindful of his pride, which in men was guarded as dearly as chastity in a maiden, she never gave advice or counsel to her husband as to how he should act, but left him a clear enough trail of enticements that he could arrive of his own accord at the destination she intended. These enticements varied naturally according to the difficulty and scope of the project she wished to achieve, ranging from the physical delights of her body -- which were the simplest and easiest to administer -- to material and immaterial gifts, favors, and advantages, large and small alike.

  Though the Baron de Salvagnac was usually adept enough at following her lead, he did occasionally get things wrong. The hoped-for alliance with the Montferrauds was, however, a very important matter -- one that she had actively and clandestinely pursued for some time, employing all her skills of influence and persuasion to see it to successful conclusion. What have you done or undone? She wondered anxiously, regarding her husband intently as he stood and saluted the table with a respectful nod, preparing to address them all.

  “My dear guests and family. I have always esteemed Monsieur de Blaise and Monsieur de Marbéville, whom I am delighted today to welcome to our home. However, the admiration that exists between friends and acquaintances, and the bonds of devotion, duty, and respect that bind families together; though similar in nature, are altogether different in both degree and import,” he said, pausing briefly for effect, pleased that his words held everyone in rapt attention.

  “Today I am both delighted and honored to announce that Monsieur de Blaise and I have agreed to join both our fortunes and our families together in formal alliance!” the baron declared.

  Madame de Salvagnac let out an audible cry of joy before clasping her hands together in elation. It was what she had hoped for after all! A wave of emotion coursed through her, lighting her face with the glow of her triumph. She turned to look at her eldest daughter, Julienne. How will she react? Does she know it is her fate that has just been decided? she wondered. Aware of the instant scrutiny of everyone, Julienne maintained an outward appearance of dutiful obedience and submission, a beatific half-smile frozen on her serene countenance, regardless of whatever her true feelings might be.

  “My dearest Julienne, how happy I am to hear such wonderful news. Let me be the first to congratulate you both on your betrothal,” Madame de Salvagnac said, looking across the table at Julienne’s intended, the Comte de Marbéville, who sat contentedly by her daughter’s side. Julienne smiled radiantly, displaying for all to see, the glowing countenance of one coming to realize that she has just been very advantageously married. Prompted by her mother, she offered her hand to her future husband, an offering which he accepted gladly in both of his, kissing it tenderly.

  “Monsieur de Marbéville, now that we are to be married, I should be pleased if you would bestow upon me your kiss…which I hope to be the first o
f many favors you will see fit to grant me as your most obedient wife and steadfast friend,” Julienne said.

  Pleased with the ready submission of his future bride, the Comte de Marbéville leaned forward in willing compliance, kissing his fiancée gently on the lips as the table broke out in spontaneous applause. Whatever trace of reticence the comte might have felt at the sudden but not altogether unexpected arrangement his father had earlier concluded and the baron had just announced, was substantially lessened by the pleasure derived from a quick glance down the lace-shielded décolletage of his bride-to-be’s gown, confirming his belief that he was undeniably a fortunate man and was soon to be even more so. Julienne caught the direction of his gaze, inwardly pleased at the evidence of his attraction. His eyes rose to meet hers, the boldness of her returning glance stoking both their surreptitious desires.

  “How fortunate you both are to be so well-matched!” the Marquis de Blaise declared, moving to congratulate and embrace the young couple, followed by Julienne’s younger sister Éléonore, who could not contain her glee that she would soon have the happy prospect of a wedding to attend.

  “Where, pray tell is La Bouhaire?” the baron asked to no one in particular, the commotion of the congratulations having suddenly reminded him that one of the expected attendees for dinner was surprisingly absent. The blank stare on the part of his wife told him all he needed to know. He snapped his fingers, calling one of his enslaved servants immediately to him.

  “Have my niece found and fetched here at once!” he said sharply. The baron was not a man often irritated, but the absence of his niece the Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire, from such an important family event, was the sole blight on his moment of triumph; one he meant to remedy at once.

  “How unfortunate, Monsieur de Salvagnac, that both our children seem to have gone missing,” the Marquis de Blaise observed. The remark was intended as a pleasantry, but it pricked the baronne’s annoyance, reminding her of the unwelcome presence of the youngest son of the marquis and the ill-repute that surrounded him because of what his mother was -- or more precisely, what she was not. In her heart of hearts, she hoped fervently that only her niece would be found and summoned to join them at table.

  While the servants hunted diligently for the vicomtesse, the object of the baron’s search was in fact quite close, having followed the service corridor down to arrive in the kitchens just as the baron had begun his speech. Once there, she had hidden herself and her companion behind a paneled screen not far from the entrance to the dining room. There the pair of fugitives had enjoyed a perfectly concealed view of the proceedings and now observed the happy aftermath, Sérolène quietly pointing out to Nicolas the members of her family whom he was not yet acquainted with.

  “My uncle calls for me Monsieur d’Argentolle, would you be so kind as to escort me to the souper?” Sérolène asked, squeezing Nicolas’ hand affectionately. Nicolas bowed, offering her his arm in reply. They proceeded into the room together as if they had not a care in the world, their joint arrival announced by the steward, who was visibly relieved that the search for his master’s niece had ended with such quick success.

  “Mademoiselle la Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire! Monsieur le Chevalier d’Argentolle!” the steward announced with solemn formality.

  Nicolas looked straight ahead, his gaze firm and unwavering as he escorted Sérolène toward the open place near the head of the table. She smiled serenely on his arm, her demeanor as elegant and carefree as if she were a queen at her own court and not a young girl very late for an important engagement. Her presence in the room was palpable; it was in the pleasing manner of her gait, the way she seemed to glide rather than walk in her heavy skirts, the upright carriage of her head atop her long graceful neck, the softness of her gaze that appeared to land everywhere and welcome everyone. All the men turned at once in notice of her, Nicolas proud that he had both the honor of escorting her and the secret favor of her affections. The vicomtesse curtsied very low to the assembled guests. Nicolas couldn’t recall ever seeing such a graceful supplication; glancing at his father and brother, he could see that they were already charmed.

  “I beg you to forgive the lateness of my arrival, but I had the most awful trouble with my shoes. I heard the happy announcement just as I came in. Oh Julienne, I’m so pleased for you!” Sérolène said, moving to kiss Julienne on both cheeks, her cousine receiving her wishes with warmth, secretly pleased that her husband-to-be had not had the benefit of seeing the only rival she considered a true threat to her empire.

  “Ah well, no matter. You are here now. That’s the important thing,” the baron replied indulgently, to the baronne’s unconcealed annoyance. Turning toward his guests, he presented his niece to the expectant company.

  “Monsieur le Marquis de Blaise, Monsieur le Comte de Marbéville. May I present to you my most charming and tardy niece, Mademoiselle la Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire.”

  “Tardy perhaps, but well worth waiting for,” the marquis said with a gallant bow.

  “Indeed,” the Comte de Marbéville concurred, perhaps with too much enthusiasm to suit his future wife. The vicomtesse returned both their compliments with an elegant curtsey of her own.

  “And may I in turn present to you my youngest son Nicolas, Vicomte and Chevalier d’Argentolle. Monsieur le Chevalier d’Argentolle, may I present to you Monsieur and Madame de Salvagnac and your soon to be belle-soeurs, Mademoiselles Julienne and Éléonore de Salvagnac,” the marquis said.

  Nicolas bowed courteously before his hosts, waiting for the baronne to offer her hand to be kissed -- a courtesy that she purposefully neglected to extend to him. Everyone overlooked the snub, but no one forgot it. Unlike her mother, the tactful Julienne did not hesitate to offer her hand to Nicolas, which he dutifully kissed. Her concession to the house of Montferraud was met with a thinly veiled scowl from her mother, which the future Madame de Marbéville conveniently pretended to take no notice of. Both the Comte de Marbéville and the marquis, however, took note of Julienne’s courtesy, admiring the fact that in light of the preceding announcement she had prudently decided to adopt their interests as her own. Nicolas was lastly introduced to Éléonore, the seven-year-old sister of Julienne, who in her greeting also elected to take her sister’s, rather than her mother’s, example.

  “How charmed I am to meet you,” Nicolas said. Éléonore smiled generously but was too shy to offer him any other reply.

  “Have you forgotten your manners, Mademoiselle? Say something to Monsieur le Chevalier,” the baron prompted.

  “Monsieur le Chevalier is very handsome indeed!” Éléonore declared in youthful innocence, restoring the good humor of all but the baronne in a single stroke. Nicolas used the respite of the moment to escort Sérolène to her seat, taking the remaining one next to her under the silent brooding visage of Madame de Salvagnac, who had not yet forgiven her niece for her tardiness to table, nor fully accepted the presence among them of the youngest Montferraud.

  “I’m told, Monsieur d’Argentolle, that you are addressed by your family as Nico rather than by your given name,” the baron said as everyone was seated.

  “Yes, that is indeed generally so, Monsieur. It is a sobriquet that was bestowed upon me by Madame de Blaise in my infancy, though Monsieur de Blaise still prefers my proper given name of Nicolas,” the chevalier explained.

  “A father’s privileges must always be respected, but Nico does suit you very well. How unfortunate that Madame de Blaise was unable to join us,” the baron offered naïvely, unaware that his wife had purposefully excluded both Nicolas and his mother from the invitation she had extended to the marquis and the comte.

  “Yes. How she would have loved to make the acquaintance of everyone, but she has been feeling rather unwell of late and the doctors felt it best that she not tax herself overmuch with travel,” the marquis replied diplomatically. Both Nicolas and his elder brother Francis eyed each other questioningly, aware that the marquise was in her usual very good health. They both re
alized that her exclusion must have been entirely for other reasons.

  “Well, how I look forward to meeting her, as I’m sure we all do, when the time comes,” the baron said. The baronne, whose salon had been and continued to be one of the principal refuges of the slanderers of the Marquise de Blaise, nodded with a smile exceedingly thin in both sincerity and conviction.

  “We also look forward to receiving your visit at our estate, Monsieur. Might I also compliment you on the surfeit of rare beauty that surrounds you? You are indeed very fortunate to be so well-favored,” the marquis observed, changing the subject to more pleasant matters.

  “Fortune does indeed shine brightly upon him, Monsieur, does it not? I have often to remind him so myself, though at times beauty and inconvenience go hand in hand,” the baronne answered for her husband, her eyes fixed accusingly upon her niece.

  “Perhaps, my dear niece you’d care to explain your tardiness? We’ve had everyone looking all over for you. What a nuisance you’ve put us through, not to mention the discourtesy to our esteemed guests,” Madame de Salvagnac continued, determined to exact a measure of retribution from her niece for her belated arrival.