That night at supper, Clarice was very silent, but it was hardly noticed with all the talk the boys – men, really – had to offer. All she could think about was what she had seen earlier that day from the upstairs drawing room window. She was sure her eyes had not deceived her. Her Julien – her only child, and the delight of her eye – was not only grown up enough to be kissing, but had decided to kiss other boys. Yes, she had seen him kiss his friend, and it could not have been mistaken for a bissous. No, Julien had kissed Henri as if he loved him.

Love. This was a new thought. Does he really love him? She studied the interactions between the two of them, calculating. They were both so tender towards one another. Any tease was quickly amended. When they touched, they always lingered. And when they looked at each other… something passed between them. Something meant only for the two of them to witness. Yes, she was sure. They truly loved one another.

Upon coming to this realization, Clarice was surprised to find that she was not in the least dismayed. In fact, she felt a sort of motherly pride that she presumed she would have felt if Julien had found himself a wonderful wife. Henri is a very nice boy. I like him very much, and I think he will make my Julien happy. And why should there be anything wrong with it as long as Julien loves him? It doesn't matter what sex your love is. I am convinced that one cannot help whom he loves. I want for Julien the happiness and love that I never had, and if this boy can give that to him, I will fight with all my power to make sure he can have him. This sort of thing was perfectly legal under Napoleon. I remember, as a child, there was gossip that a couple of young men in town had been that way, and had had to hide it once the regime changed. In any case, I am his mother, and I will love him regardless of whom he chooses to love. And, with that, Clarice reconciled herself to doing what every mother knows she will someday have to do – give her child away to another. Until then, however, there were things to be discussed.

"Julien, darling," she said when there was a lull in the conversation. "Your birthday is fast approaching. I have been thinking that we might hold a ball."

"Oh, Mére, there is no need to make a fuss over me," Julien said modestly.

"Nonsense, cheri, I should like to get one good party out of you before you leave me forever. Soon you'll be at university and your poor mother will be all alone, with no one to talk to."

Julien's father laughed. "Why, what about me, my darling?"

Clarice raised her brow and said in a mock whisper, so that anyone at the table could clearly hear, "Yes, just think of it. The only one I will have to talk to is him!"

Everyone laughed good spiritedly at the joke. Henri thought this was the first time he'd actually seen Julien's father laugh. Clarice's spirit was simply infectious. No one went unaffected by her good humor.

"Alright, Mére, as you wish. You know I would do anything to please you."

Her face lit up with glee, and she turned to her husband, "Well, Armand, are we to hold a ball for Julien's birthday?"

"Yes, yes, I think it a splendid idea. One last grand party before Julien's final year at boarding school."

Clarice could practically burst with joy. She was a very social creature, who greatly enjoyed being around people, and she absolutely loved giving parties. "It is settled then! I shall make all of the arrangements."

They talked and laughed over party plans for the remainder of supper, withdrew to play a few rounds of vingt-un, and everyone went to bed quite happy.

When Henri and Julien reached to doors of their respective rooms, Julien gave his freckled friend a brief kiss goodnight. They smiled at one another lovingly, and then turned and entered their own rooms.

Henri did not blow out the light immediately, for things were on his mind. As he undressed, he thought about the party – what was essentially a going away party before Julien went to university a year later. Henri needed to write to his father.

In his dressing gown, he sat down at the writing desk, and composed the following letter.

Dearest Father,

My fondest greetings to you, Mother, and my sisters.

I hope that you are all well, and I look forward to

seeing you in a month's time. Truth be told, I have

had it in my mind to ask you about attending

university in the autumn of next year. I feel that my

secondary education is drawing to a close, and that

a year more will be more than sufficient to prepare

me for what is to come. You know that I have always

dreamed of becoming a physician, like you, and I

hope to take the entrance exam to Decartes, so that I

may have the opportunity to work at the Necker, as it is one

of the only teaching hospitals in France. I look

forward to your response, so that I may know whether

or not I have your permission and support in pursuing

this next autumn. Give all of my love to Mother,

Jeanine, and Annette.

Affectionately,

Henri

Henri had included nothing about his wish to follow Julien to Paris. He wanted his father to see him as independent. He hoped with all his heart that his father would be able to send him to university. Henri was almost positive he would have his father's consent, but he wasn't sure about the money. He would simply have to see.