“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. I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t wait too long. I should like to see your children.”

Roland gave him a quick look. The priest was thinner than when he last saw him. Was he unwell? Seeing his look, Father Xavier smiled. “I am not sick, Roland, but none of us is getting any younger. Besides, I have already decided how to die.”

“Really?”

“I think that I shall know when it is approaching. And at that time, I intend to go to Rome.”

“Why?”

“Where else to die,” said the priest with a wry smile, “if not in the Eternal City?”

Chapter Sixteen

•  1911  •

It was a quiet Sunday morning in September, and Édith and the girls were at Mass when Luc came to his brother’s lodgings.

“Can you give me some help this evening?” he asked. “We’ll need that handcart of yours. I have some furniture to shift.”

“All right. Shall I bring Robert?” His eldest son was a strong young fellow.

“No. I want to talk with you in private.”

“What about?”

“I’ll tell you later,” said Luc. “I must go now. Meet me with the handcart at the restaurant this evening. Six o’clock.”

Thomas Gascon shrugged.

“As you like.”

He’d owned the handcart for half a dozen years now, and it had been a good investment.

The loss of their lodgings at Monsieur Ney’s establishment had been a great blow to the Gascon family. There was rent to pay, and with her six young children, Édith hadn’t been able to earn much. Thomas had been ready to move up onto Montmartre, on the edge of the Maquis, but Aunt Adeline and Édith wouldn’t hear of it. When Aunt Adeline had found work as a housekeeper near the Pigalle district, however, they had moved to lodgings close by.

This brought them into the vicinity of the Moulin Rouge and the foot of Montmartre—hardly a respectable area, and frequented in the evenings by ladies of the night. But Édith wanted to be near her aunt, and Thomas, at least, was not unhappy to find himself near his brother.

As a foreman, Thomas earned good wages. But there had been two more girls born since then, and so money was often tight. Sometimes Aunt Adeline had to help them with the rent.