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The Assembly completed the Constitution in September. This entailed the election of a new body, called the Legislative Assembly. No member of the old National Assembly would be allowed to seek another term.
This meant that Villers could no longer hold office. Many members of the nobility, including Lauzun, had long stopped participating in the deliberations of the Assembly, but Villers had remained assiduous in his attendance until the end. He had found great satisfaction in his functions as Representative, probably far more than he had expected. He was now left with as much time on his hands as before the Revolution, without any of the entertainments he had enjoyed then. He had to watch events unfold without being able to help shape the fate of the Nation. The consequence of this forced idleness was that he could now devote his full attention to me.
At the end of September of 1791, Emilie introduced me to Guillaume de Morsan, a young cousin of her husband.
“Do not talk to him if you do not want to, Belle,” she whispered later. “Maybe it is not fair, but I cannot abide the sight of the man. One look at him is enough to spoil my appetite.”
The marks left by smallpox on Morsan’s face resembled burn scars and had spared only one of his cheeks. He was slightly built for a man and barely as tall as me. My first impulse had been to look away, but Emilie’s remark had made me ashamed of myself. I made a point of sitting next to him at dinner.
“I am surprised,” I said, “never to have met you before.”
“I was a Lieutenant in the Bodyguards, My Lady. I have seen you on many occasions at the Palace when the Countess de Provence visited Their Majesties, but you may not have noticed me.”
“One of my dearest friends, the Chevalier des Huttes, was also a Bodyguard.”
“I knew and respected him, although I had been with the Corps only a year when he was killed. There is no finer death for a soldier, My Lady.”
“I cannot bring myself to call any death fine, especially when I think of the Chevalier’s end. I guess it is a female weakness. Are you going to be part of the King’s new Constitutional Guard?”
“Unfortunately not. None of us Bodyguards are, I believe. We are suspected of harbouring hostile feelings towards the Revolution.”
“So you find yourself out of a commission. It must be a great change for you.”
“It is, My Lady, and not a happy one. If Madame de Brasson were not kind enough to invite me to her dinners, I would feel very lonely. Some of my friends from the Bodyguards have emigrated and invited me to follow them abroad. Yet I am reluctant to leave my country, although I see it daily take a turn for the worse.”
“You are right. Not only have the émigrés left France, but they are ready to take arms against her. That I cannot comprehend or forgive.”
“I understand your feelings, Madam. Yet someday, each of us gathered here tonight may have to choose between death and exile.”
“What a terribly sad thought! I do hope that you are mistaken, Sir. The King has returned; he swore allegiance to the Constitution; the new Legislative Assembly has been elected. Hopefully things will follow a peaceful course now.”
“Forgive me, My Lady, I did not mean to dampen your spirits. These days I let my personal woes colour my view of the political situation.”
Our conversation turned to more cheerful topics. I found Morsan’s company pleasant, to the point of forgetting his disfigurement. I noticed his fine grey eyes, always sad, but more particularly so whenever he looked at me. Villers claimed me promptly after dinner. I took my leave of Morsan, who bowed and kissed my hand.
“Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Madam,” he said. “It is not very often that I have the honour of receiving such kindness from a lady.”
“Who is that man?” asked Villers in the carriage.
“A cousin of Emilie’s husband. He is a former Bodyguard.”
He sneered. “I never saw anyone so repulsive.”
“I found him quite pleasant.”
“You must indeed have liked his company, for you have talked to him through the whole dinner.”
“Yes, I like him.”
“Has he asked for permission to call on you?”
“He has not, and you know that I would not have granted it. I am sure that he was interested in me only because I listened to him. Some people must shun him because of his looks.”
“Your naivete would amuse me, Belle, if I were not beginning to wonder whether it is genuine. The man was watching you with hungry eyes. No wonder. When he looks at himself in the mirror every morning, he must thank God for the existence of whores. Without that convenience, he would never touch a woman.”
“What a cruel thing to say, Villers!”
“Well, my love, truth is often cruel. But you are right. I should not have spoken it. The poor fellow’s deformity does not prevent him from having the same needs as any other man.”
It pained me to think of Morsan in the company of a prostitute. Villers seemed to have been either testing my reaction or trying to degrade my new acquaintance in my eyes. I saw Morsan again at Emilie’s, and I always conversed with him, although I avoided sitting by him at dinner anymore.
When the weather was fine, I took Aimée for walks in the gardens of the Luxembourg Palace. The place brought to mind pleasant memories of my time as a lady-in-waiting to Madame. Aimée would bring her miniature boat, which she would push with a stick on the main basin. I had to watch her closely, for she was so entranced by this amusement that she had more than once come close to falling into the water. Once she had played to her heart’s content, we would walk in the shade of the beautiful alley leading to the Fountain de Médicis, my favourite spot in the park. There we would sit on a bench and share almond biscuits we brought in Aimée’s tiny basket.
During one of these impromptu meals, I saw Morsan walking in our direction. He bowed to us. “What a pleasant surprise, Sir,” I said. “I did not know that you came here.”
“My hours of leisure are many, My Lady, and Madame de Brasson says this is one of your favourite walks. I took the liberty of coming here in the hope of meeting you.”
I felt myself blushing and saw that he too was colouring under his scars. To see a man do so added to my embarrassment.
“If my presence annoys you,” he said after a pause, “I will leave immediately. It would be dreadful of me to repay your kindness by forcing my company upon you.”
With a wave of the hand, I invited him to sit. “This is a public place. It would be rather presumptuous of me to forbid you to come here. And I do not mind meeting you. I would tell you if I did.”
“I am very grateful for your forbearance. The pleasure of your company is my sole comfort now.” He smiled sadly at Aimée. “I am delighted to meet your little girl. I hope she does not find my appearance disturbing. Most children are afraid of me.”
Aimée was indeed staring at Morsan and holding fast to my hand. I pressed hers. She understood and curtseyed to him.
We saw Morsan again at the Luxembourg. Little by little, Aimée became less shy with him. He never failed to bring her pralines, her favourite sweets. His attentions won her good graces and she learned to smile at him. Our meetings were never arranged in advance, but we saw him whenever we went there. I assumed he was waiting for us every day. He was content to speak with me and then walk us back to the carriage.
I discussed my new acquaintance with the Duchess.
“Is this young man in love with you?” she asked.
“It is possible.”
“I suppose it means yes. What about you, dear, do you love him?”
“No, Madam, I do not.”
She put down her teacup and looked straight into my eyes. “Forgive me for asking an impertinent question, which only our friendship justifies. Why are you allowing his attentions?”
I blushed. “I cannot tell, Madam.”
“You may be tormenting that poor man by letting him hope for what cannot be.”
“Oh no, Madam, I do not believe that he entertains any illusions.”
“How can you be certain of it? Have you discussed either his feelings or yours with him?”
“Never.”
“Do you tolerate his presence because it flatters your vanity to have an admirer?”
“I do not believe so. You know me, Madam. I do not relish that kind of satisfaction. And I do not only tolerate him, I like meeting him. Here is a man who, while clearly admiring me, does not raise his voice to me, does not say unpleasant things, does not try to control my actions and thoughts. In his presence, I need not worry how my every word and move will be interpreted.”
“What about Villers? How does he feel?”
“He seems very upset. I have noticed lately a stranger following me all over Paris. I suspect that he has been hired by Villers to watch me. A great deal of good it is going to do him, because I only meet Morsan in public places, and we do nothing but talk quietly.”
“Still, Belle, regardless of what happens or does not happen between that man and you, Villers is bound to be jealous since you seem to enjoy Morsan’s company so very much.”
“But Morsan is disfigured.”
“It makes it worse for Villers, dear, if you would prefer to him a man of such unprepossessing appearance. I am worried about you, Belle. Be careful. If you intend to leave Villers, so be it, but do not unwittingly make him angry over a man you do not even love.”
I looked at the Duchess. “Do you believe, Madam, that Villers is thinking of leaving me?”
“I really cannot say, dearest. He no longer confides in me. I am only warning you to beware. In a way, he has lost his son, and there is no telling how he would react to losing you, or to imagining that he has lost you. What if he turns you out of your lodgings? Of course, you will always have a home here, but it may be a more temporary solution than you think.”
“You are most kind, as usual, but I would not want you to worry about those things.”
“How can I help it, dearest Belle, when I think of you and your daughter? Do you think that Morsan would marry you? Has he any fortune?”
“Emilie says he has next to nothing. He rents two rooms on Rue du Bac.”
The Duchess sighed. “At least he has enough sense and decency not to propose. You have grown accustomed to luxury, Belle, whether you know it or not. Again, you are the sole judge of what you wish to do concerning Villers, but whatever you decide, keep your eyes open.”
She patted my hand before reaching for her teacup.
55
The Duchess was right. I should have known myself better. The truth is that my mood matched the uncertainty of the times. I felt lost. I was on occasion tempted to leave Villers but had not the courage to do so. At other moments I reflected that our differences were trifling and that we were indeed quite happy together. Another event soon added to my confusion.
Emilie seemed to believe that the various political clubs that flourished at the time were kept open, like the theatres and the Opera, for the sole purpose of entertaining society ladies. She had once dragged me to the Cordeliers, who, she had assured me, were “very funny.” That club had settled in the church of the former convent of the same name, which had been stripped of all religious artifacts. In the middle of the chancel was a rough wooden table serving as a platform from which the orators made their speeches. The pews remained. They were filled with men and women of the lower classes, who were not shy about expressing their opinions. Some men, armed with rifles, shot in the air when making their point. Before starting their speeches, the orators had to don a red bonnet, symbol of the freed slaves in ancient Rome, which was kept for that purpose on the table. I shuddered at the thought of the vermin that must infest that piece of fabric. I left without regret.
Emilie also suggested that we go to the Club des Jacobins.
“No, thank you,” I said. “I did not much enjoy our excursion to the Cordeliers.”
“Yes, but the Jacobins are different. They are bourgeois, you know, but with extreme views. I do not want to go there alone. Be a friend, Belle, and come with me.”
“Curiosity will be your downfall, Emilie.”
“Please, Belle. I do not know of anyone else who will go with me.”
“Maybe everyone else is right. You can read an account of the speeches in the newspapers. Why go there?”
“Just this time, Belle dearest. I am sure you will like it. And you make me laugh with your newspapers. It is not the same as listening to the orators in person.”
“All right, just this time then.” She kissed me on both cheeks.
The Jacobins were indeed quite different from the Cordeliers. The Club was fitted to resemble the hall where the Legislative Assembly convened. The orator’s lectern was situated below the president’s pulpit. The regular members, all male, sat on benches in the hall itself, while a large audience, composed equally of men and women, gathered in the galleries. We found seats there.
At first, we listened to a speech by a thin man who, in a rather shaky voice, attacked Robespierre for having advocated the abolition of the monarchy. He was greeted by hoots from part of the audience. The president rang his bell, and ushers tried to restore order, to no avail. A tall man rushed to the pulpit. His voice dominated the uproar.
“President,” he said, “let me respond to this scoundrel.”
I did not hear the president’s response in the middle of the racket. The tall man ran up the stairs to the lectern and pushed the first orator out of the way. He was now facing the public. I recognized Pierre-André Coffinhal.
“Friends and brothers,” he said, “who among us, except Maillard here, still doubts that the so-called King is a traitor? Louis is the ally of the assassins of the Homeland; he is the worst enemy of the Nation. He is the accomplice of Lafayette and Bailly, the butchers of the people of Paris at the Champ de Mars. Have we forgotten how much innocent blood was shed that day? Some say that Louis is meek. They say that he has seen the error of his ways at last, that he will now abide by the Constitution. They are fools or rogues. Louis is a consummate liar; we all know it. He hides his duplicity under false airs of imbecility. Where do the émigrés, the unsworn priests, the conspirators of all stripes, within and abroad, find their warmest support? In Louis and his wife. We all know it. That Court of his is a viper’s nest.”
Cheers erupted. Pierre-André paused for a moment, surveying his audience.
“Yes,” he continued, “the Court is a putrid sore on the face of Paris, an infection in our midst. It is the refuge of the hideous remnants of the nobility. We all know it, yet we are complacent. We are lulled into security while in Germany, in Austria, in the Palace itself, evil never sleeps. There, less than a mile away, plans are being drawn at this very minute to slaughter the Patriots. Let me ask you: how many more of us will have to die before we wake up? It is time, friends and brothers, time at last to overthrow the hated remains of the Old Regime. Let us begin with that most gothic of institutions, the monarchy itself.”
Some men rose from their seats and cheered, while others cried in horror. Pierre-André’s voice was echoing throughout the hall and drowning the shouts, friendly and unfriendly, the clapping of hands, the stamping of feet and the president’s bell. He went on unfazed and in a thunder of applause demanded that a motion be put to the votes to exclude from the Club the prior orator, in whose direction he pointed an accusatory finger, and “all like-minded scoundrels.” I was stunned by the violence of his tone.
“I have had enough,” I told Emilie. “I want to go.” I had to shout to make myself heard.
“Already? But we just arrived, Belle. I want to listen to this man. Are you not curious to find out who he is?”
She turned to the man seated to her other side. I rose without waiting for the end of their conversation. She caught me by the arm to stop me, but I shook her off. Our movements attracted Pierre-André’s attention and for a moment my eyes met his. I looked away before I was able to determi
ne whether his features reflected astonishment, anger or any other feeling. I was overcome by embarrassment. There was a short pause in his voice before he resumed his speech with undiminished energy. I ran away.
Back in the carriage, Emilie chatted on. “You are no fun, Belle. I take you to the Jacobins, and you spoil my pleasure! Why did we have to run like thieves when things were becoming amusing?”
“You found that speech amusing? Did you happen to notice that the orator was speaking of us when he was berating the nobility and the Court?”
“But have you ever seen anyone so ugly? His name is Corigal, or something like that. According to the man seated next to me, he was just elected Commissioner in the Second District. I would have learned more if you had not bolted. I have not heard anything so vicious; I am still tingling with excitement.” She put her hand on my arm. “I have an idea, Belle. We will go watch one of his trials. I would love to see how he behaves on the bench. What do you say?”
“I say that we leave him alone.”
“What is the matter with you? You are all pale.”
“I am fine. I guess it was too noisy in there. That man frightened me, but, unlike you, I do not intend to follow him all over Paris.”
That was the first I had heard of Pierre-André’s election as Commissioner. He would, in addition to managing the police officers in his district, sit as a judge in Municipal Court. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, this could hardly be considered a function of the first magnitude. Yet Pierre-André was not yet thirty, and his career was taking a promising turn for someone so young. I had already read in the papers about his brothers. The eldest, Jean-Baptiste, my family’s former attorney, had become the first Procureur-Syndic of the Départment of Cantal, which made him one of the highest officials in Auvergne. Another brother, Joseph, who had been a barrister in Paris before the Revolution, had become a justice of the new Supreme Court. Altogether, the Coffinhal brothers seemed to be doing very well under the constitutional regime.
Mistress of the Revolution: A Novel Page 35