Paris: The Novel

eroded by your bureaucrats in Paris. As one who loves France, this also saddens me. But all these changes are not enough for you?”
    “They are a beginning. That is all.”
    “Then perhaps you are part of the Workers’ International.” It was two years now since the left wing of France’s conventional radicals had formallysplit away to form the French Section of the Workers’ International. “You will only be content with a socialist revolution, whatever that may mean.”
    “You are correct.”
    Roland looked at him thoughtfully. Le Sourd was dedicated to everything he despised. He would oppose him and his kind in every way he could. Yet to his surprise he did not hate him. Perhaps the very fact that the fellow wished to avenge his father’s death made him seem human.
    “If you believe that your presence is essential to world revolution, monsieur,” Roland said, “then I advise you not to try to kill me again. For your desire to murder me is now well recorded, and if something happens to me, you will be immediately arrested.”
    Le Sourd gazed at him. His eyes, set so wide apart, were certainly intelligent. They conveyed no emotion.
    “I am glad that we have had this meeting,” Le Sourd said calmly. “For centuries your class and all you represent have been an evil force. But I see that we are making progress. For you are almost an irrelevance, and soon I think you will be an absurdity.”
    “You are too kind.”
    “When the opportunity comes to kill you, I shall take it.” He stood up. “Until then, Monsieur de Cygne.” He bowed and left.

    Before returning home, however, Roland had another idea. There was one other person he needed to see.
    “Take me across the river,” he ordered the taxi driver. “You can put me down at the church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés.”
    The church wasn’t far from the family mansion in that aristocratic quarter, but his object, first, was an old presbytery near the church that housed half a dozen elderly priests. In particular, it was now the home of Father Xavier Parle-Doux.
    Father Xavier was there, and delighted to see him.
    “Your last letter said that you would be back in Paris. But with all the things you must have to do, I did not expect to see you so soon.”
    They had always written to each other every month or two, and so it did not take them long to exchange their recent news. Roland told Father Xavier how delighted he was with Paris, which he found more elegantthan when he had left it. “But I thought you would be interested to hear that I have just met a man who is trying to kill me,” he announced.
    “Evidently he has not succeeded yet. Tell me all,” said the priest.
    When he had finished the story, Roland had one question.
    “Did my father ever express to you any regret about this business? I am wondering if it had any connection with his decision to resign his commission.”
    Father Xavier paused.
    “Had your father ever said anything about this in the secrecy of the confessional, I should not tell you. But it is not a secret that he considered the war of Napoléon III against the Germans to have been a foolish adventure, and that the necessity of Frenchmen killing each other at the time of the Commune was distressing to him.” He looked at Roland curiously. “Do you wish to inform the police about this Jacques Le Sourd?”
    “No. His attempt upon me ten years ago would be hard to prove. And …”—he shrugged—“it’s not my style.”
    “Personally, I do not think you are in immediate danger from this Jacques Le Sourd,” said the priest. “Though morally I consider him a madman, I do not think he is a fool. If his socialist revolution comes about, however …”
    “They will probably kill me anyway.”
    “I have always felt,” confessed Father Xavier, “from your infancy, that God was reserving you for some special purpose. One should not seek to guess the mind of God, but I felt it nonetheless. It has seemed to me that the wonderful birth of your ancestor Dieudonné, at the time of the Revolution, was a sign that God had a special love for the family de Cygne. Perhaps we should just await His plan and not concern ourselves too much about the ravings of this atheist.”
    “I am glad you say that,
mon Père
. It was my feeling too.”
    “Speaking of your family,” said Father Xavier pleasantly, “isn’t it time that you got married? We need another generation, you know.”
    Roland smiled.
    “Perhaps you are right.