Chapter 6: The Island Adventure
The next morning, they prepared to leave, and said their farewells to the family. Felix had come to see Elisa off, and they gave each other a long kiss before parting. Napoleon tried to convince them once again that a man should come along, but they dismissed his objections. Then they walked to the docks and found their boat. It was small and flimsy, and Mireille hoped it would hold up. "No, our boat is stronger than you think," said Elisa. They untied the boat, Elisa took the oars, and they set off.
Mireille pointed out the island of Ratonneau. They saw the fortress of the Château d'If looming ahead of them, looking more and more forbidding as they got closer. "Oh, I hope they didn't take Lucien there!" said Elisa.
"We have no reason to think they did. From what they said, Lucien is on Ratonneau with them."
"But if we don't keep our word to them, they could easily take him there. Or even kill him." Elisa shuddered.
"If things go according to plan, they'll be too stunned to do anything to him."
"I hope you're right."
It was a beautiful day, and the water was smooth, so the journey to Ratonneau was an easy one. The sun sparkled on the water as they arrived. But when they found the beach and pulled up the boat, Elisa's face fell in dismay. "There's no other boat here. So where are they? Oh, Mireille, what if they took him to the Château d'If?" Now that they were on the island, the nearby fortress looked gigantic.
"This isn't the only beach on the island, is it?"
"I don't know. I've never been here before."
"Well, there must be one on the other side. I don't see any sign of them at all. No footprints, or anything."
"But it rained yesterday. Any footprints would be washed away."
"That's true," said Mireille. "But look how open it is around here. There's no place to hide him. We have to get to the other side. Perhaps there's a cave there, where they're keeping him."
"Well, let's start out again."
Elisa started to walk back to their boat, but Mireille shook her head. "No, this island is small enough that we can walk to the other side. It's long, perhaps a mile or a little more, but it's narrow. I would guess only 500 yards or so. And if we walk, perhaps we'll see a cave."
"That's a great thought, Mireille." And so they walked across to the other side of the island, examining their surroundings. As they reached the other side, they realized the ground was much rougher there. Sure enough, they saw a cliff, with a small beach at the foot of it-with a boat, slightly larger than theirs, pulled up on it.
"Their boat!" exclaimed Mireille.
"Yes, I see it, too."
"Now, where could they be? They can't be too far from here." They walked around until they saw a cave hidden at the base of the cliff. "There! That's where they're keeping him."
"How should we approach?" asked Elisa.
"It's early afternoon. Perhaps they're sleepy after their midday meal, just like the bandits on Corsica. We should go in now. Quietly, of course. We want to take them by surprise."
The girls tiptoed into the cave. Slowly they let their eyes adjust to the dark. At first they couldn't see much, but then, in a corner, they saw Lucien with a rope around his waist, and the other end of the rope tied to a hook on the wall of the cave. As they got closer, they saw his ankles and wrists were tied as well. And beside him were three glittering, jeweled chess pieces: two pawns, one gold and one silver, and one larger piece, a golden camel with a tower on its back. It was a Black Rook of the Montglane Service. They didn't see anyone else besides Lucien, so they ran up to him. "Lucien! Oh, Lucien!" they exclaimed.
"Elisa? Mireille?" asked Lucien, his voice hoarse. "How did you get here?"
Elisa covered her brother's face with kisses, and Mireille bent down to kiss him on the cheek. Her heart ached to see his handsome face covered with bruises. "They sent us a ransom note that said where you were, and we took the boat out here. But what have they done to you?" She stroked his bruise-covered cheeks.
"They beat me up. But don't worry, I gave as good as I got. So you have the money to ransom me?"
"Not now, but Mireille can get it. Don't you know she's rich?"
Lucien shook his head. "No, no one ever told me."
"It's Valentine's money. It became mine after her death, " said Mireille, swallowing back her tears. "But the Abbess set it up in an account in London, so I can't get it until I go there. I hope I can persuade them to accept my promise, though. If not," she lifted her skirts to show him her knife, "we'll fight them."
Lucien gasped. "That can't be..."
"The knife that killed Marat. Yes. No time to explain, though. Elisa knows the whole story, and if we succeed, we'll tell you later. So where are they now?"
"Asleep after their midday meal, as you probably guessed. Over there." He nodded towards a spot deeper in the cave.
"Let's untie you now," said Elisa.
"Not so fast, Citoyenne Bonaparte," came a deep voice from the back of the cave. "We were awake to hear your little conversation." A shaggy-haired, thick-bearded man emerged, and the girls were astonished to see a familiar face: Caragone, the bandit chief from Corsica. Two rough-looking men, one dark-haired and one blond, with unfamiliar faces, followed him.
"Well, well, Citoyenne de Remy," Caragone said to Mireille, "I'm sure you never expected to see me here. You were expecting Paris Jacobins, I imagine. Well, you have two of them here-my companions, Roger and Pierre-and myself."
"But... but how did you get here? I thought you were still on Corsica. And how did you know..."
"That you murdered Marat? Oh, I was there when it happened. I was one of the crowd outside the house."
"How could that be? When, and why, did you leave Corsica? And how did you get those pieces?" Mireille nodded towards the glittering pieces next to Lucien.
"It's a long story, but you're not going anywhere anytime soon, so I'll tell you. As I'm sure you've guessed, I am a player on the White team. That's how I knew all about you. I came to Paris to meet with Marat, to discuss the next move the White team should make. I expected to find him at the Jacobin Club, but I learned he was so ill, he never left his home and spent most of his time in his bathtub. Instead, I met these two men at the Jacobin Club," Caragone nodded to Roger and Pierre. "They're not players, but they know of the Game and are sympathetic to the White team, and willing to do what it takes to help us. They arranged for me to make an appointment to see Marat. How was I to know you'd get in there with your knife before I could see him? I was in a carriage waiting to go in, and I believe your friend Charlotte Corday was in the carriage just ahead of mine. And then you stabbed him, and everything was in chaos. I took advantage of the chaos to go into the house to look for the pieces Marat had. I found three of them. Later on I learned he had eight in all, so I have no idea what happened to the other five. Your friend Corday didn't happen to give them to you, did she?"
Mireille shook her head.
"No, that would be too good to be true, wouldn't it? But she did give you something else of value, something which you carry on your person at this moment? Oh, I heard you talking to Citoyen Bonaparte just now. Don't deny it."
"Yes, I have the knife, and I'll fight you with it if I have to."
"We will see about that. Anyway, I retrieved the pieces and showed them to my friends. The next day, we attended your trial."
"And how did you know I wasn't Charlotte Corday?"
"I saw the figure 8 on your hand, just like Robespierre did. Oh, I know Robespierre quite well, and your uncle Jacques-Louis David, too. Don't you know your dear uncle has turned against you?"
"Yes, and I feel terrible about that. I feel terrible about a lot of things."
"You feel remorse, do you? Little coward! Don't you know this is a deadly Game we're playing? There's no room for remorse. You've got to harden your heart, or you'll be dead! And one more thing: I heard you speak at your trial. I still remember what you said: 'I have killed one man to save a hundred thousand.' Why aren't you so bold now?"
"I wasn't thinking straight, and I needed to say something in my defense. I also tried to think of what Charlotte would have said in my place. But what of it?"
"Don't you remember, on Corsica, I recognized you because you have the accent of the Pyrenees? I heard it at your trial as well. Charlotte Corday was from Normandy. She would not have had that accent."
Mireille's face fell. It was that simple! "How many others know I killed Marat?" she asked.
Caragone said, "As yet, no one else besides those of us in this cave, whoever else you might have told-I imagine the whole Bonaparte family-and Robespierre and David. But that could change depending on how you behave yourself here. Let me tell the rest of my story first, though. I guessed everything that happened, that Charlotte Corday had taken your place at the guillotine, and you had gotten away. So I met with my friends to figure out where you might have gone. We talked to your uncle, and we found out you had been in the desert and had a child there. We figured you'd go back for him. And any ship going to Tripoli makes a stop in Marseille. We also knew your friends the Bonapartes were in Marseille, and you would most likely visit them. What better opportunity, than to kidnap Lucien, who we knew was fond of you, in order to get you in our power? And here you are. Everything has gone the way I expected. Now, shall we talk? What would you be willing to do to get Lucien back?"
"If you heard our conversation, you'll know I have money. A lot of money, in fact. But it's all in London, so you'll have to wait for me to get it for you. I could give you something as a pledge, if you'd like."
"I don't want your money. That ransom note was only to get you here."
"What do you want, then?"
"I want you to tell me where you hid the White King."
"Never!"
Caragone drew a knife from his belt and held it to Lucien's throat. Elisa let out a scream. Caragone's friend Roger held her mouth shut.
"I will be very generous with you," said Caragone. "I will even let you have those three pieces. I must let you know, though, that I've written down the symbols on them, so I know that part of the formula. Now they're really of no more use to me. Again, I just mentioned them in my note as a temptation to get you here. No, it's the White King I really want."
"And you'll never get it!"
Caragone drew his knife closer to Lucien's throat, and Roger tightened his grip on Elisa.
"You really don't have a choice, Citoyenne de Remy. Murderer of Marat. If you don't tell me, I'll slit your friend's throat. And as for this one," he pointed to Elisa. "We shall see."
Mireille was filled with remorse, that she had brought Elisa into this situation. "Why did you insist I bring her with me? All that business about the eighth child?"
Caragone laughed. "Oh, I knew your little friend would never let you go alone. And if I'm forced to cut Lucien's throat, I still have her to threaten, to get you to do what I say."
"How did you even know she was the eighth child?"
"My friends and I joined the Marseille Jacobin club as soon as we got there. We pretended we hated Marat and wanted to celebrate his death. Lucien was eager to make friends with us when he heard that, and soon we were sitting in his friend Laplace's inn, drinking, and he told us his whole life story. I also found a sample of Laplace's handwriting when I got the bill. It was very easy to imitate it, to lure Lucien to the Jacobin Club that day."
"You think of everything, don't you?"
"More or less. Now, what do you say, little murderer? Your friends, or the White King?"
"Neither!" shouted Mireille, drawing her knife.
"Ah, the knife that killed Marat. I should be honored to be killed with it, but I want to live, you see. And, unlike Marat, I'm armed. So if you're going to kill me, we'll have to fight first. At least it will be fair." He took his knife from Lucien's throat and went at her.
"How dare you!" screamed Mireille. She lunged at him with her knife, but he parried the blow.
"You'd rather kill a sick old man in his bathtub than a real fighter! Coward!"
"I don't want to kill anyone! I didn't want to kill Marat, either. He forced me to." She lunged at him again, and landed a glancing blow on his arm. Drops of blood came out of the wound. Then Mireille turned away, sick to her stomach, and vomited. "No! Not the blood again!" she cried. "So much blood, it's everywhere!" Her mind went back to the night she killed Marat, and she saw all the blood, everywhere, on his chest, in the bathtub, on her dress... Before her eyes, she saw nothing but blood. She fell over, and when she tried to get up, she felt as if a huge weight were on top of her: the weight of her guilt.
Caragone taunted her, "Oh, yes, your fear of the sight of blood. It's just a few drops this time, not like the torrent of blood you shed when you killed Marat! But still you're scared, aren't you? Little coward, little coward!"
"My friend is not a coward!" shouted Elisa. She freed herself from Roger's grip, drew her knife, and plunged it deep into his shoulder. He doubled over in pain. Then the other man, Pierre, joined the fight. He and Elisa exchanged blows until Elisa slammed his head against the wall of the cave and he fell over, unconscious. Now, of their adversaries, only Caragone was left standing. Elisa faced him, and lunged at him with her knife.
They exchanged blows for what seemed an eternity, neither gaining an advantage over the other, until Mireille stood up again. Dark spots danced before her eyes, but she was ready to join the fight. She landed a deep blow in Caragone's thigh, and he limped away, bleeding. Mireille felt another wave of nausea coming on, but fought it back. Then Elisa landed a blow on his shoulder blade, and he went down.
"I can't get up again without help," he said. "Are you going to kill me when I'm down? Just like you killed Marat?" Caragone asked Mireille.
"No, I will never kill anyone, ever again."
"You said you'd never kill Marat, and look what happened."
"I didn't know then, what it was, to kill a man. Now I know, and I never want to go through it again."
"And you, Citoyenne Bonaparte? Are you going to kill me? Unlike your friend, you don't know what it's like to kill a man, and how it makes you feel afterwards."
Elisa glowered at him. "You're right. So what's to keep me from killing you?"
"Elisa, no!" said Mireille. "Don't do it! You'll hate yourself for the rest of your life! Do you really want that?"
"But he's evil! He was going to kill Lucien."
"And I still could. When my two friends are awake again. But I will bargain with you once more. You can take Lucien and the pieces with you, if you tell me where the White King is."
"Absolutely not," said Mireille.
"Little fool! I may be down, but I'm still dangerous. I could kill you right here." He held his knife to Mireille's throat.
"Tell him, Mireille!" Lucien's voice came from his corner of the cave.
"But the White King is one of the most powerful pieces. I can't let him have it."
"He will kill me otherwise. Or they will."
Mireille looked in Lucien's direction and saw that Roger and Pierre had already recovered and were standing over him with their knives. The wounds Elisa had given them had not been as serious as she had thought. Mireille took a deep breath. "Very well, I'll tell you. I see I don't have a choice." Briefly she thought of lying, but it was as if Caragone had read her mind.
"And don't lie to me. Do you know what I'll do if I've found you lied? I will talk to Robespierre and I will make sure that every newspaper in France prints the name of Marat's true murderer. If you ever set foot in France again, you will immediately be sent to the guillotine."
"I'm not planning on going to France anytime soon. I'm going to the desert, and then to England, where I plan to settle down with Talleyrand."
"Oh, yes, your lover. But he never settles down, does he? It wouldn't surprise me if you find he's left England already. No, one of these days you'll want to go back to France. But you won't be able to, with the threat of the guillotine hanging over your head. You'll have to spend your whole life in exile. And once the news gets out, everyone will know you're a murderer. Who will welcome you then?"
"They hate Marat in England. The people there are probably glad I killed him."
"Ah, but England isn't called 'The White Land' for nothing. There are many White players there, who will wish to avenge his death."
"Well, if I'm not welcome there, I'd even go to America."
"And spend your whole life across the ocean? Far away from those pieces of yours?"
"I'd take them with me. The ones I have, that is."
"But there are many others in Europe. You'll never be able to get to them. You'll have lost the Game and we, the White Team, will have won!"
"Mireille, tell him the truth," came Lucien's voice once again.
She took a deep breath. "We buried it in the garden of the Bonapartes' house on Corsica."
Caragone let out a triumphant laugh. "Of course! How simple! Why didn't I think of that myself! Well, believe it or not, I'll keep my word. Your friend can go." He nodded to his friends, who cut Lucien's ropes. Lucien ran to his sister and Mireille, who embraced him. The two henchmen brought Caragone to his feet and helped him out of the cave. As they left, Caragone turned back to them and said. "I hope you're telling the truth, Citoyenne de Remy. Remember what will happen if you aren't."
As soon as their three adversaries were gone, Lucien gave Elisa a huge kiss on the cheek. Then he turned to Mireille. The two of them gave each other a long kiss on the lips, and Mireille felt something stir within her, something she hadn't felt since her night with Talleyrand. Elisa began to giggle. "You two!" she exclaimed. "We have to get going." Lucien smiled, and he and Mireille walked out of the cave, arm in arm.
Elisa picked up the pieces of the Montglane Service, and they walked back to the other side of the island, where they'd left their boat. They noticed their adversaries had already taken the larger boat and were probably headed towards Corsica.
"He's going to get the White King!" cried Mireille in distress.
"Yes, he is. But you had no choice but to tell him," said Lucien. "He would have killed me otherwise. And I think I can prevent him from doing too much damage with it."
"What do you mean?"
"I can go back to Corsica and get it from him."
"But your life is in danger if you ever go back to Corsica!"
"I can go in disguise. Thanks to Elisa's theatricals, we have plenty of costumes in the house."
"You still have to go home, get a disguise, and then see about taking a boat to Corsica. You'll never get there before him."
"I don't want to get there before him. If I do, he'll think you lied to him, and carry out his threat. No, I mean for him to see you told him the truth. But I will be there, right behind him, and as soon as I have an opportune moment, I will take the White King from him, and put it in a safe place."
"But, Lucien, you're not even in the Game. I'd hate to see you go to such risk."
"I'd risk anything for you. Mireille, don't you know? I love you!"
Elisa smiled, and squeezed her brother's hand.
"Don't you love me, Mireille? After that kiss you gave me, I think you do."
Mireille shook her head. "I don't know, Lucien."
He looked crestfallen. "What do you mean, you don't know? Didn't you feel what passed between us? It was like a bolt of lightning to me."
"I felt that, too, Lucien. Believe me, I did. But I felt the same for Talleyrand. Oh, Lucien, I'm so confused." She hung her head, and tears came to her eyes. "I don't know my own feelings. I don't know whether I love you, or Talleyrand, or both, or neither. I need some time. I have to sort out all my feelings."
"After all that, are you rejecting me?"
"No, not at all. But I have to go back to the desert for my son. You know that."
"Mireille, I would love to meet your son. And I don't mind at all, bringing him up as my own, even though he's Talleyrand's."
"I know. But I need to see Talleyrand again, too. His life is in danger from the White Queen. I won't know for certain how I feel about either of you, until I see him again."
"So you want to choose between us? Well, I'm your age! And I've never loved anyone but you. He's an old man, and he's had many women. He's probably having other women right now, in London. He doesn't care if he's betraying you! I would never betray you, Mireille. I'd always be faithful to you."
"I know that, Lucien. It's not you, it's me. Whenever I'm with Talleyrand, I feel powerfully drawn to him."
"And you don't, with me?"
"I do, but I feel like I shouldn't. I can't explain it. As I said, I'm so confused. I don't know how I feel now. I just need some time, and I think I'll know more, when I see Talleyrand again."
"You'll know enough to reject me," said Lucien, crestfallen.
"Perhaps not. Perhaps I'll decide I love you, not him. I just don't know yet."
Lucien sighed. "Meanwhile, I will get the White King back from Caragone. I promise. Even if you don't love me, I'll do that for you."
By this time, they had reached their boat. It was nearly evening. As Lucien rowed them back to the city, the sun was setting. Elisa put a hand on his shoulder. "Give her time, Lucien," she said. "Poor Mireille, she's been through so much. It's not just you that her feelings are confused about."
"I know," said Lucien. "Mireille, I'm sorry. I'm not going to force you to love me if you don't."
"Yes, I know that. You're a good man, Lucien. You deserve a better woman than me. Perhaps that's one reason for my confusion."
"It shouldn't be. You're a very good person, Mireille. I know you don't realize it now, but you are."
"How can I be, after what I've done?"
"You wouldn't feel the way you do, if you weren't. You'd feel no remorse at all."
"He's absolutely right, you know," said Elisa. Then she yawned. For the first time, the girls realized how tired they were.
"Why don't you sleep for a while? I will be fine, rowing the boat. I'll wake you up when we reach the city," said Lucien.
And so the girls fell asleep. Mireille was holding a pawn from the Montglane Service in each hand, and Elisa was holding the Black Rook. As she fell asleep, the pawns spoke to Mireille.
"You're a murderer, and you always will be," said the White Pawn. "You deserve to go to the guillotine!"
Mireille was about to agree, when the Black Pawn said, "Don't listen to him. You're a hero! Marat was a monster. You saved thousands of innocent lives. The nuns of Montglane, except for Valentine and those poor women who went to Caen and got killed, are alive today because of you. He was going to send them all to the guillotine just for being nuns, and for what they knew about the Montglane Service. You kept that from happening. They all owe their lives to you."
"But you're still a murderer, nonetheless," said the White Pawn, relentlessly.
"You had to kill him. You had no choice, and you know it," said the Black Pawn.
"I did have a choice. I made the wrong one," said Mireille.
"It will haunt you for the rest of your life, as it should," said the White Pawn.
"Listen to me, not him. I'm on your side!" said the Black Pawn. "Murder is rarely justified, but in your case it was. He deserved what he got. You made the right choice. Now learn to accept it. You have so much potential in you, and so much courage. Put this behind you, and use it to your advantage. You will be a great hero. You already are."
Mireille felt Lucien shaking her awake. "Mireille!" he shouted. "Wake up! What's the matter? You were more than just asleep. You were in a trance or something. Elisa was, too. And you both talked in your sleep. I just woke her up, before I woke you."
Mireille looked over at Elisa, who was yawning and shuddering. "Elisa? What's wrong?"
"The Black Rook spoke to me. It said my destiny lies in Tuscany. But it also said there will be great danger for me there."
Mireille smiled. "Tuscany is a beautful place, or so I've heard. I would love to go there myself."
"I certainly wouldn't mind living there. But the danger..."
"We're all in danger, Elisa. All of us in the Game. Even Lucien, who's not in the Game, if he goes after the White King."
"And I will, I promise," said Lucien.
"The pawns spoke to me, too," said Mireille. And she told them what they'd said.
"Well, your Black Pawn was right," said Lucien.
"So you believe us, that the pieces spoke to us?" asked Elisa.
"Of course I do. I remember what happened with the White King. These pieces have a tremendous power behind them. I don't think we know even the smallest part of what they can do."
"But why do they speak only to Elisa and me?" asked Mireille.
"Are you sure they don't speak to anyone else?"
"No, I'm not sure. But when Valentine and I had those pieces in their hands, they never spoke to her."
"Poor Valentine! Perhaps they knew she was doomed," said Lucien. "But they know the two of you have a great future ahead."
"I hope you're right," said Elisa. And then they reached the city, and Lucien tied up the boat. They walked the short distance to the Bonapartes' house, where they were met with embraces from everyone.
In the short time Lucien had at home, before he went back to Corsica to get the White King from Caragone, Elisa decided to put on one of her theatricals, to lift Mireille's spirits. She chose a comedy, Corneille's L'Illusion comique. even though Mireille knew Elisa preferred tragedy to comedy. All the Bonapartes acted in it, and Mireille, Felix, Désirée, and Julie were the audience. They passed around a copy of the book among them, and at times Elisa, who played the leading female role, would step off the stage, tap someone in the audience, and ask them to read a line. All except Mireille, who, Elisa knew, felt uncomfortable. But as Mireille watched, she got into the spirit of the play and asked Elisa to let her read a line. Her voice was hesitant at first, but she did well in the end.
The two girls embraced at the end of the play. "I'm so proud of you, Mireille!" said Elisa. "I always have been, you know." Then she whispered, "I know you feel terrible about what happened, but you have got to put it behind you, and go on with your life. Like our Black Pawn said, I believe you're destined for great things."
"I don't know about that," said Mireille. "And I will never be able to forget what I did. I don't even know if I can forgive myself. But I know I have to go on."
"And you have many people who love you."
"I know that. But what if I can't love Lucien the way he wants me to? I know that's what you want, too."
"Yes, I would love for you to be Lucien's wife, I admit it. I always have. But if it's not meant to be, it isn't."
"Would you still be my friend?"
"Of course. That goes without saying!" And they embraced once more.
That night, in their bedroom, Mireille stayed up late reading. Too many thoughts were running through her head for her to sleep. "What book is that?" asked Elisa.
"A Russian dictionary."
"You're learning Russian?"
"Yes, the Abbess is in Russia now, and she may be in danger. After I go to the desert for my son and Shahin, and to London to reunite with Talleyrand, I intend to go to Russia to find her."
"But they all speak French in Russia. Why do you need to learn Russian?"
"The nobility speaks French. The common people speak nothing but Russian."
"But surely you'll be among the nobility?"
"Not necessarily. What if the carriage breaks down and I need to ask for directions?"
"Yes, I see where it might be useful. When did you start learning Russian?"
"A few days ago, before we went to the island."
"And how much can you speak now?"
Mireille recited some complete sentences in Russian, even though Elisa, of course, had no idea what she was saying. When Mireille was finished, Elisa said, "Mireille de Remy, you will never cease to amaze me!"
Mireille shook her head. "I only wish there were some great novels in Russian, or poetry, or plays. Something more interesting than this dictionary. But it will have to do."
"Perhaps someday there will be."
"Yes, perhaps. I wonder if we will live to see it, though."
"Well, I won't be learning Russian. I will never have your ability to learn languages."
"You know two already."
"Two are plenty for me right now. But I will always admire your ability."
"Thank you. For everything. Your friendship means so much to me, Elisa. There were times I would rather have been dead, but you taught me I must go on with my life."
The two girls embraced once again, and Elisa went to sleep. Mireille continued studying the Russian dictionary, well into the night, until she finally slept as well. And this time no nightmares troubled her sleep.
On the next morning, Mireille took her leave of the Bonapartes, except for Lucien, who had already left for Corsica, in disguise, very early in the morning before anyone else was awake. He left a note for her, which said, "It's better that I leave without a long farewell. I understand you have many feelings to sort out. But whatever you decide, remember I love you." Tears came to Mireille's eyes when she read his note, and she wished she could love him as much as he loved her.
Elisa came with her to the dock, where Mireille was about to board the ship going to Tripoli. She embraced her and asked, "Must you leave so soon?"
"I'm afraid so. I have to find Talleyrand and then the Abbess. I'm afraid they're both in danger."
"I wonder when we will see each other again."
"It may be a long time. Who knows when I'll be back in France. Perhaps never, if Caragone carries out his threat."
Elisa smiled. "He won't, I'm sure. But perhaps next time we see each other, it will be in Tuscany."
"I've always wanted to go to Tuscany. I've heard it's very beautiful."
"Who knows whether what those pieces say to us is true or not. Or even whether it's real or all a dream. But I know you think it's real."
"More or less. But I don't understand how it happens, and why they only talk to us."
"Meanwhile, we will correspond, won't we?"
"Of course. But, Elisa, if there's anything I need to say in my letters that should be kept secret, I will put it in code. A more complicated code than the one Caragone used, replacing A with I, and so on."
"But I could never figure out a more complicated code. I don't even know how you figured that one out so quickly, except that you're a genius and I'm not." Elisa shook her head.
"You are extremely intelligent, Elisa. And I will explain how the code works, so you'll know how to decipher it. I will replace the first letter with the one eight places down the alphabet. A with I, and so on, as you said. Then, for the second letter, I'll replace it with the one eight places up the alphabet, so I would be A. For the third letter, I'll go back to the system I used for the first letter. And so I'll alternate between the letters. Odd-numbered letters, eight places down the alphabet. Even-numbered letters, eight places up the alphabet."
Elisa shook her head. "I don't know how I'm going to figure that out. It's too complex for me."
"Write down the alphabets on a separate piece of paper to figure it out. Once you learn it, it will become easy. And then you could use the same code in your letters."
"Well, now that you've explained it, I think I could figure it out. It will take a while, though. Don't worry if it takes a long time before you get a letter from me."
"And it might take a while for me to write. I don't know how long I'll be in the desert, and then I'll go to England. I might not be able to write until I'm in London. Who knows how long I'll stay there. It depends on how things go with Talleyrand. Then, of course, I hope to go to Russia, and you know how unreliable the mail service is there. But I hope we see each other sooner than we think."
"So do I," said Elisa. They embraced one more time, and they waved good-bye to each other as Mireille boarded the ship.
