But aristocrats were more imbued with the idea than other classes, all the same. She remembered a conversation at the dinner table with a visiting aristocrat who was descended from La Fayette, and whose family still had the sword that George Washington had given him. “La Fayette certainly found a way to make a name for himself,” the aristocrat said proudly.

“But he was driven by a passion for freedom and democracy, wasn’t he?” Marie asked.

Her guest looked doubtful.

“It’s true that he came to believe that a constitutional monarchy, like the English one, would be best for France,” he answered. “But he wasn’t searching for freedom in America. He was searching for glory.”

Of course, she thought. Nothing had changed since the Middle Ages. Heroes went in search of honor and renown. War, crusade, America: it made no difference.

So what could a young French aristocrat do in the decade after the horrors of the Great War? Become an explorer? Perhaps. Charlie could do that. In the meantime, however, even the fastest motor car did not look daring enough. No wonder Charlie wanted an airplane.

The first time Louise set eyes on Charlie was in 1937. Some friends had brought him to L’Invitation au Voyage. He was standing in the hall. He was a little taller than his companions, both of whom had been there before. He was very handsome, she thought.

The three men were ushered into the salon. They sat down. Champagne appeared, and she sent three girls in to chat with them. From the doorway, she noticed that although he observed the girls and quickly noted their good points, there was an air of detachment about him.

Curious, she stepped into the salon herself and went over.

“You have never been here before, monsieur.”

“Non, madame.” The faint surprise in his voice told her that he had noticed her elegant manner and accent. “But I had heard of it by reputation, and my friends here were kind enough to bring me here to see for myself.”

“Louise,” one of his companions now cried out, “I haven’t introduced my friend to you. This is Charlie de Cygne.”

She bowed her head politely. If this was the case, she thought, then he must be the stepson of Marie. But her face betrayed nothing.

“Allow me to welcome you then, monsieur. I am Madame Louise, the owner. Most of the girls are quite amusing to talk to. You are free to enjoy their company in the salon.”

Then she left him.