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Authors: Philippa Carr
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Claudine, I am no longer a child to be told do this… do that.” He was looking at me with a teasing indulgence. “I am a man… and I will do what I will.”
“That’s true,” agreed Charlot. “We are men… and we are going to do what we think fit, no matter who tries to stop us.”
“Our father will soon put a stop to those plans,” said David. “You know very well he would never give his consent to your going, Jonathan.”
“I don’t need his consent.”
Charlot smiled complacently at Louis Charles. “He has no jurisdiction over us.”
“He will prevent it, you’ll see,” said David.
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
“Well,” I said practically, “how are you to set about this great adventure?”
“Never trouble your head,” replied Charlot. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh no,” I cried, “ I am quite stupid… but not so stupid as some who indulge in wild fantasies. Remember the stories of Uncle Armand? How he made some plan to descend on the agitators? What happened to him? He was sent to the Bastille… and there a strong and healthy man was turned into a pitiable invalid. And… according to the Lebruns he is dead now. He never recovered from his incarceration in the Bastille.”
“He must have been careless. He made mistakes. We should not do that. This is a noble thing to do. I refuse to stand aside any longer while these things are happening to my people… my country.”
David said: “It is indeed a noble idea, but a great deal of careful planning is needed.”
“Of course it needs planning,” retorted Charlot. “But how can we plan until we get there… until we know what we shall find?”
I said: “I believe you are serious.”
“Never more so,” answered Charlot.
I looked at Louis Charles. He nodded. Of course he would go where Charlot went.
I forced myself to look at Jonathan, and I saw the blazing blue of his eyes, and I felt hurt and angry because that flame was there for a project which did not concern me… and he could so impulsively risk not only his own life but those of Charlot and Louis Charles.
“You would surely never go with them,” I said.
He smiled and nodded.
“But you are not French. It is not your problem.”
“It is the problem of all right-thinking people,” said Charlot a little sententiously.
He was motivated by love of his country; but it was different with Jonathan, and he had wounded me deeply. He had shown me clearly that I was only of secondary importance to him.
He wanted this adventure more than he wanted me.
All the next day Jonathan was absent and Charlot and Louis Charles with him. They returned in the evening and did not say where they had been; but there was a certain smug satisfaction about them. The next day they went out riding again and did not return until late.
I talked to David about them and he expressed some anxiety as to what they were planning.
“It must be all talk,” I said. “They could not possibly go to France.”
“Why couldn’t they? Charlot is a zealot and Louis Charles would always go along with him. Jonathan…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Jonathan has often made wild plans and I can assure you that many of them never materialized. He likes to imagine himself on a magnificent charger riding into danger and riding out again victorious. He has always been like that.”
“He is very like his father.”
“My father would never have quixotic ideas about rescuing strangers. He always said the French brought the revolution on themselves by their own folly—and now must pay the price for it.”
“But he went over there magnificently and came out victorious.”
“He would always have a purpose. He went solely to bring out your mother. He would plan coolly and efficiently. These three appear to be allowing their emotions to get the better of their common sense.”
“That is something you never do, David.”
“Not willingly,” he agreed.
“What are we going to do about them?
“That’s true,” agreed Charlot. “We are men… and we are going to do what we think fit, no matter who tries to stop us.”
“Our father will soon put a stop to those plans,” said David. “You know very well he would never give his consent to your going, Jonathan.”
“I don’t need his consent.”
Charlot smiled complacently at Louis Charles. “He has no jurisdiction over us.”
“He will prevent it, you’ll see,” said David.
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
“Well,” I said practically, “how are you to set about this great adventure?”
“Never trouble your head,” replied Charlot. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh no,” I cried, “ I am quite stupid… but not so stupid as some who indulge in wild fantasies. Remember the stories of Uncle Armand? How he made some plan to descend on the agitators? What happened to him? He was sent to the Bastille… and there a strong and healthy man was turned into a pitiable invalid. And… according to the Lebruns he is dead now. He never recovered from his incarceration in the Bastille.”
“He must have been careless. He made mistakes. We should not do that. This is a noble thing to do. I refuse to stand aside any longer while these things are happening to my people… my country.”
David said: “It is indeed a noble idea, but a great deal of careful planning is needed.”
“Of course it needs planning,” retorted Charlot. “But how can we plan until we get there… until we know what we shall find?”
I said: “I believe you are serious.”
“Never more so,” answered Charlot.
I looked at Louis Charles. He nodded. Of course he would go where Charlot went.
I forced myself to look at Jonathan, and I saw the blazing blue of his eyes, and I felt hurt and angry because that flame was there for a project which did not concern me… and he could so impulsively risk not only his own life but those of Charlot and Louis Charles.
“You would surely never go with them,” I said.
He smiled and nodded.
“But you are not French. It is not your problem.”
“It is the problem of all right-thinking people,” said Charlot a little sententiously.
He was motivated by love of his country; but it was different with Jonathan, and he had wounded me deeply. He had shown me clearly that I was only of secondary importance to him.
He wanted this adventure more than he wanted me.
All the next day Jonathan was absent and Charlot and Louis Charles with him. They returned in the evening and did not say where they had been; but there was a certain smug satisfaction about them. The next day they went out riding again and did not return until late.
I talked to David about them and he expressed some anxiety as to what they were planning.
“It must be all talk,” I said. “They could not possibly go to France.”
“Why couldn’t they? Charlot is a zealot and Louis Charles would always go along with him. Jonathan…” He shrugged his shoulders. “Jonathan has often made wild plans and I can assure you that many of them never materialized. He likes to imagine himself on a magnificent charger riding into danger and riding out again victorious. He has always been like that.”
“He is very like his father.”
“My father would never have quixotic ideas about rescuing strangers. He always said the French brought the revolution on themselves by their own folly—and now must pay the price for it.”
“But he went over there magnificently and came out victorious.”
“He would always have a purpose. He went solely to bring out your mother. He would plan coolly and efficiently. These three appear to be allowing their emotions to get the better of their common sense.”
“That is something you never do, David.”
“Not willingly,” he agreed.
“What are we going to do about them?
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