The Academie (29 page)

He touched my cheek. I felt the touch tingle through me, and once again recalled the soft feeling of his lips. “Do not distress yourself,” he said. “You have a good heart. Madeleine is extraordinary, and deserves better than she has had so far in life. But I received a disturbing message some hours after you and I parted, from the servant Marianne at the theater.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. In very shaky writing, it said:

Forgive me, Vicomte, but I fear my mistress, Madeleine de Pourtant, is not safe or sane. When you didn’t come, I thought she would take her own life. Now she has gone away with a strange girl dressed as a soldier, and she has taken a weapon with her. Please find her before something bad happens
.

A weapon
. “We had a dagger when we left. The servant gave it to us. She seemed to think Madeleine would need protection if her mother sent someone after her.” I couldn’t understand why she would now be concerned about what Madeleine might do with it.

Before he could speak further, the opening strains of the song stopped him with their exquisite beauty. “What does my sister think of her?” he whispered, his eyes misted over with emotion.

I didn’t want to tell him what I believed was true, that Hortense had decided that his love for Madeleine must be thwarted. Why else would she not have sent word to him right away, to tell him that Madeleine was at the school? Since I could say nothing, I put my finger to my lips, and we moved toward the ballroom door in order to hear Madeleine better.

Eugène was enthralled from the first note. I couldn’t help sighing.

“He is too old for you.”

I jumped. I had been concentrating so hard on Eugène, and on Madeleine’s song, that I did not notice Armand. He had left his post at the door to the ballroom and come up
behind me. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, although I knew perfectly well.

“Would you prefer it if I wore a uniform? You seemed not to dislike me so much yesterday, in Saint-Cloud.”

“Shh!” I said. But I had to admit, he was right. I think I hadn’t really looked at him properly until I saw him in his blue coat and white breeches.

I was about to make a conciliatory remark when, on the last line of the song, just when I expected that everyone would begin to applaud wildly for Madeleine’s beautiful performance, I heard instead a gasp and the rattle of swords.

In an instant, Eugène sprang forward and, noiseless as a cat, opened the door. I took a step toward him, but Armand held me back. “Don’t!” he said, then nodded toward the young ones. The two of us shepherded them back and silenced them with a fierce look.

One of the youngest, a member of the Pink class, broke free of the group and stood where she could see through the door. Her mouth opened wide. She turned and said aloud to everyone, “She has a dagger! She is threatening Joséphine!”

My God
, I thought. My first instinct was to run to Eugène, but again Armand held me back. I felt cold, as if someone had put ice on the back of my neck.

I watched as Eugène crept forward and drew his pistol from his belt, holding it out in front of him as he moved farther into the ballroom.

It all happened so fast, and yet when I think about it
now I see everything slowly, in every detail. Madeleine whirling around with the dagger, her eyes shining, hopeful. The sharp retort and flash from Eugène’s pistol. Her body crumpling to the floor and blood flowering around it. All the young ones screamed, and I felt an ache in my heart so intense that I couldn’t even cry.

Horrified, I turned and buried my face in Armand’s shoulder. He wrapped his arms around me and stroked my hair.

I didn’t want him to let go, but the sound of the door slamming made me push myself away. Madame Campan had rushed through and locked the ballroom door. Her face was as white as the lace on her sleeves, her lips drained of blood.

“You must all go to your rooms. At once!”

I had never heard her speak harshly before then. Everyone was so frightened they obeyed immediately.

All except for me—and Armand.

I looked up at him. “It’s all my fault,” I said. I knew it was. Would any of this have happened without me? If I hadn’t brought Madeleine back to the school?

49
Hortense

I run to my mother’s side. She leans forward, a handkerchief pressed to her closed eyes. Napoléon, Lucien, and Louis form a tight group, standing away from the stage. Madame Bonaparte sits erect. I catch sight of her expression, which is a curious mixture of horror and triumph. I wonder, briefly, how much blood she has seen shed during the course of her life.

“Fetch me my salts,” Maman says to me, but I cannot obey her. Instead, I am drawn to the stage, where now Eugène kneels by Madeleine, who lies in a crimson pool, her life draining away. I join him, not paying attention to the scarlet stain that seeps into my white gown. I pick up her hand. Her eyes are staring and her mouth opens and closes. She lives!

“Madeleine! Madeleine! We have sent for the doctor.”
She does not appear to hear me. And her hand is so cold it chills me through.

“It’s no use,” Eugène whispers.

I cannot believe she will die. I lift her arm and put her hand to my cheek, rubbing her wrist, trying to keep her from fading away. I feel as if she is attempting to say something, but cannot speak. I lean forward.

More people throng the stage. I am aware of Caroline, with Murat at her side. I look up and see pity in her eyes. She must realize all too clearly that my brother, my dear Eugène, has accidentally killed the woman he loves.

“Come, Eugène, you can do nothing here.” It is Murat. He is a good man, I realize. I raise my eyes and see that his and Caroline’s fingers are intertwined. Now everyone will know that they are in love. A pain stabs my heart, as though the dagger Madeleine brandished has found its home.

Madeleine stirs a little. She tries to lift her head. Eugène leans closer, mingling his tears with hers. No one breathes.

“It ... wasn’t ...,” she starts to say, but the effort costs her too much, and she falls back again before summoning the will to speak once more. “I would never ... I only did it...” Then louder, her eyes fixed upon Eugène’s, she says, “I love you.”

Her body relaxes completely, her head tipping to the side. The hand I hold slips out of my grasp.

Eugène’s tears flow freely as he shakes his head slowly from side to side.

I sit up and cast my eyes around the room, a familiar place grown strange. Michel and his sister are nowhere to be seen. They must have run out in the confusion.

Beyond the pianoforte, I see Madeleine’s dagger. It’s near the wall beneath the long windows, where it must have flown when Eugène’s bullet hit her tiny frame. Without thinking what I am doing, I stand and walk over to retrieve it. No one pays attention to me, because the doctor has arrived. I watch from a distance as he kneels by Madeleine, feeling her pulse, confirming she has indeed passed beyond the reach of his arts.

“Her mother must be informed.” It is my mother, the beguiling Joséphine. She stands, dry eyed. I see she is relieved to have such a troublesome situation resolved so absolutely. Yet I also see that her heart aches for Eugène, to have his dreams dashed so violently, and at his own hands.

As everyone backs away, clearly wondering what to do next, I weigh the dagger in my hand and notice something odd about it. The blade feels much heavier than the handle, as if the handle is hollow. I turn it this way and that, and notice a tiny button at the point where one’s thumb would rest. I press the button down. Nothing happens. I test the sharpness of the blade. It is quite dull. So dull that I can push on the tip of it without pricking my finger at all.

Something makes me decide to touch the blade’s tip at the same time as I press the button with my thumb.

I move the blade into the handle until it disappears completely.

“Look!” I say to everyone. All eyes are upon me as I repeat the action.

Maman approaches. “It’s a trick dagger,” she says. “I have seen them used upon the stage. To make it appear that an actor has plunged it into his adversary, the blade retracts smoothly into the handle.”

“That’s what she was trying to say,” I murmur. I cannot help meeting Eugène’s eyes. “She meant no one any harm.”

One by one, everyone leaves. Eugène lifts Madeleine’s body and carries it out to a waiting wagon. The doctor must have sent it.

At last only Caroline and I remain in the ballroom. I am too weary and sad to say anything to her. When she breaks the silence between us, it startles me.

“I shall leave school tomorrow. My education is finished. My life as a married woman will soon begin.”

She is triumphant but subdued.

“So tonight will be the last you ever spend at the Académie,” I say.

Caroline nods and leaves. I am alone in the room where so much has happened today.

Love is a strange and dangerous thing. Eugène came so close to finding happiness, and an accident destroyed his fate. Caroline has triumphed, discovering a mutual love that
will make all her family rejoice in the end. And I? How foolish I was to think that Michel and I could ever marry! I let my passion for music confuse me, seeing something that wasn’t really there because I wanted to free myself of my girlish infatuation with my stepfather.

I suppose I have succeeded. What next? My education, too, has been completed.

50
Eliza

Chère Maman
,

This letter will be the final one I write to you from Paris, for tomorrow I sail for home
.

I know you expected me to stay through spring, but circumstances make that impossible and—I believe you would agree—no longer desirable. Besides, I am eager to be there when you bear my sister or brother, which Papa says will be soon
.

Caroline left with all her trunks and her maids Hélène and Ernestine yesterday. (I sent Ernestine off with my blessing. She would hate Virginia!) Caroline is to marry General Murat early in the new year, to everyone’s satisfaction but especially hers
.

Hortense has also been called to Malmaison. Her situation is not so happy, but I have become very close to her in these past few days especially, and she is resigned to it. It is very likely she will marry Caroline’s brother Louis, who is not handsome and does not make up for that fact with charm and wit
.

Eugène de Beauharnais has gone off to Italy to be some sort of official there. Although the incidents at our school were hushed up, I’m certain none of us—and especially Eugène—will ever forget them. After everything that happened he couldn’t bear to remain in Paris
.

I regret, a little, making such a fool of myself with Eugène. I realize now, of course, that it was a silly fantasy. We are so different, worlds apart.

And besides... I open the box of mementos I have collected in my time here and take a note from the top of the pile of theater tickets, advertisements, and little trinkets. I received it the day after the performance, from Armand. The creases in the paper are starting to become tears, so often have I opened and reread his words.

Chère Eliza
,

I hope you will eventually forgive me for everything. As to what “everything” is, that is what I wish to tell you in this letter
.

At first, I meant to remain your enemy. I meant to play you for a fool, with the help of circumstance and my own selfish need to find a way to leave the life my family—such as they are—has laid out for me
.

But I could not remain insensible to your sweetness and beauty. Yes, although you are still very young, I can see that you will become a beauty to rival Hortense herself
.

I read those lines over and over again. Me? A beauty? Had he written nothing more, I would have been happy. But his letter continues to explain that Hortense persuaded him to write to Madame Campan, informing her about Madeleine. As to why he agreed? He admits that he thought by ingratiating himself to Hortense, he might put himself in a position to be given lucrative commissions for portraits once he left school. And now that his family has declined to support him any longer, that day is imminent.

He also assures me that, contrary to what I believed, nothing was my fault. None of what happened can be laid at my feet. Madeleine’s tragic end could never have been prevented by me, once it all had been set in motion by her and Eugène.

You were the perfect innocent
, his letter says.

I shall, I know, be much less trusting in the future.

A gentle knock interrupts my writing.
“Venez!”
I call. To think that soon I shall leave my French behind and become once more a girl from Virginia. Then everyone here—including Armand—will be nothing but a dream.

I turn as my door opens. “I wanted to come and see you, to give you a gift before you leave.”

“Hortense!” I run to her. We embrace with genuine affection. “And I wanted a chance to tell you again that I wish I had not tormented you the way I did with Caroline. I didn’t know she intended to tease you so. It was wicked of her, and I’m sure she’s sorry, too.”

She smiles. Now there is always sadness in her smile. I know what she’s thinking.

“Michel was not worthy of you,” I say, taking her hand and making her sit with me in front of the fire.

She looks surprised. “You knew?”

I nod. “I overheard you in the ballroom. I stopped Madame Campan from entering.”

She smiles, but it is not a happy smile.

“You will find someone else soon,” I say, feeling more like an older sister than a younger school friend.

“I fear that it is not for me to choose. Now that Bonaparte is first consul, my mother’s expectations are even more pressing.”