By the time Charles left his grandfather's room, it was nearly midnight. Deeply fatigued, he went down to the lavatory to wash up before returning to the second floor and walking down the corridor to his own bedroom, ready to end the long day.
Aside from some books, his room contained little more than the Marquis's. However, his bed, with its velvet mattress, was much more comfortable.
Feeling the weight of his exhaustion, he fell directly onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Though his mind was tired, it couldn't immediately sink into a deep slumber. Instead, it drifted into a drowsy, half-dreaming state. The day's events flashed through his mind like a revolving lantern, his thoughts scattering to the far corners of his imagination.
"France... the Bonapartists..." "The King... the government..." "Tomorrow's plan..." "And Forlan, she's getting more and more disobedient lately, she really needs to be properly disciplined..." Unrelated thoughts surfaced and subsided in his mind, until at last, he drifted into a state of emptiness.
Just then, a sharp poke of pain came from his forehead.
Charles didn't wake. His hand unconsciously swatted at the air above his forehead as if shooing a mosquito, seeming to brush something away. He paid it no further mind and continued to sleep.
Then, a moment later, the same sensation returned to his forehead.
He blearily opened his eyes.
By the dim candlelight, he saw a young girl staring at him calmly with her sapphire-blue eyes.
Startled, Charles's eyes shot wide open, and the image became clearer.
The girl's long, delicate eyebrows were slightly furrowed, her expression quite serious. Her loose golden hair, shimmering with a dark gold luster in the dim candlelight, seemed to drape her in a fringe of light, adding a surreal quality to the scene. She was wearing a thin, pale pink cashmere nightgown and was sitting on the edge of Charles's bed. In her right hand, she held a small candlestick, while her left hand was extended, pressing the tip of her index finger against Charles's forehead.
After a brief, half-second daze, Charles opened his mouth.
"For—mmph...mmphh!"
He only managed to get the first syllable out before the girl quickly clamped her hand over his mouth. She then shot him a threatening look.
Only after Charles understood the situation and calmed down did the girl gently remove her hand.
Forlan-Louise de Tréville, granddaughter of the Marquis de Tréville and Charles's younger sister, had just made her first appearance in this manner.
After taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, Charles glared at the girl before him.
"Are you mad!" he hissed, his voice low but his tone severe.
A fifteen-year-old girl, sneaking into her twenty-year-old brother's room late at night—never mind in 19th-century France, such an act would be scandalous even in the 21st century.
The girl continued to look at her brother, her face betraying neither pleasure nor anger.
"Do you have any idea what you are doing, Mademoiselle de Tréville?" Charles emphasized again, feeling genuinely angry.
Although his sister had recently been showing signs of a rebellious phase, this was going too far. Perhaps he, as her brother, had been too indulgent, fostering such a headstrong personality in her.
It was time to discipline her properly.
Just as Charles was internally reassessing his educational policy toward his sister, the girl's haughty expression finally softened. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, forming a slightly mocking smile.
"Of course I do, my dear brother. But right now, I need your help."
Her voice was crisp and melodious, but it held little respect.
Another wave of anger washed over Charles. "Then get back to your room and go to sleep!"
At her brother's rebuke, Forlan slightly lowered her eyes.
"Alright..." Charles felt a pang of regret and softened his tone. "You go back to sleep first. Whatever it is, you can tell me tomorrow."
"No," Forlan imperiously rejected his suggestion. "I want to talk now!"
After a brief standoff of glares, Charles surrendered.
"Fine, fine, fine! What is it?!"
As usual, having won the battle of wills with her brother, a triumphant smile appeared on Forlan's face. The sight of the young girl's smile, set against her fresh, red lips and fair skin, caused Charles's anger to vanish in an instant.
But the smile didn't last long. Her expression quickly returned to its former cold solemnity, revealing the heavy burden on her mind.
Before Charles could ask further, she pulled a sheet of paper from a pocket close to her body and handed it to her brother.
Charles had no choice but to prop himself up against the headboard, take the letter, and try to read it by the dim candlelight. His sister sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.
"Forlan, my dearest friend, thank you so much for your letter..."
After scanning the first line, Charles was stunned. He immediately looked up at his sister. "Who wrote this!" he demanded in a low voice.
"Marie de Léaurand, the daughter of the Marquis de Léaurand, my best friend," his sister replied, her head bowed, her tone subdued. "She was sent to Blois a little while ago. I sent her a letter, and I only received her reply today."
Blois was a small city about 130 kilometers southwest of Paris. It housed a Carmelite convent where, from the 17th to the 19th centuries, many French nobles sent their daughters to become nuns to avoid the expense of a dowry. The famous mistress of Louis XIV, the Duchess de La Vallière, had also retired there and lived out her days in seclusion starting in 1674.
Hearing this answer, Charles finally felt a sense of relief and continued reading.
"...How your letter moved me! I beg you, do not forget me in the future. Write to me often, tell me about the world outside. That will be my greatest pleasure!
My friend, you see now what kind of life I lead! I sleep less than six hours a day. I wake for morning prayers, and some of the others doze off as they kneel, swaying back and forth. After breakfast—you Parisians could never imagine what we eat!—we continue our ascetic practices.
For the entire day, we have nothing but boredom, but do not misunderstand, this does not mean we have no work to do. In fact, to make us feel that we are still alive, we have plenty of work: our personal clothes are all taken away, and we must mend our own garments. We read over and over again, all theological books of course, all outdated nonsense that not even the readers themselves believe. We also make communion wafers, reliquaries, and paint icons...
My seniors here have all had their beauty ravaged by time, their faces now faded. They have lost all hope for the human world and live out their days in a monotonous routine. Yes, they are alive, and that is all. The thought that I will soon become just like them makes me shudder...
My friend, you see it now. This is the entirety of my life. Everyone says this is the place closest to God and Heaven, but I say, if that is the case, I would rather live in Hell! May God forgive my arrogance!
I blame no one for my predicament. This is the calamity fate has bestowed upon me, and I can only endure it in silence. In today's world, there is only one punishment heavier than being a nobleman without money, and that is being the daughter of a nobleman without money! With such a great sin upon me, what can I do but endure?
But, my friend, as I write this reply to you, a venomous snake of jealousy is gnawing at our friendship in my heart. Please, forgive me! I know how precious our friendship is, but when I think of the bright world you will live in, and the seclusion in which I will end my life in obscurity, I cannot help but feel a pang in my heart, and I cannot help but be jealous of you. May God forgive my sin!
My friend, forgive me, and please, do not forget my request. Write to me on time!
Your most faithful friend,
Marie de Léaurand"
Charles finished reading, and he understood the situation.
French nobles had a long-standing tradition of sending their daughters to convents to become nuns to avoid paying the large dowries required for marriage. This old custom had become even more prevalent after Napoleon enacted the Civil Code, which granted other children the same inheritance rights as the eldest son. To keep their estates as intact as possible, nobles had even more incentive to send their daughters to serve God—at least God wouldn't come asking for an equal share of the family property.
And Forlan's poor friend had likely been sent to the convent by her parents for this very reason.
Forlan bit her lip, appearing deeply unsettled.
"If this goes on, she will die soon. To make a young lady from Paris live such a life, what kind of punishment is this!"
"Perhaps," Charles answered flatly.
Forlan's fist quickly struck his arm. The fierce movement tugged at her thin nightgown, revealing a large patch of creamy white skin on her chest.
"How can you be so lacking in compassion!"
"Alright, what do you want to do?" Charles had no desire to argue with her about morality.
"Isn't it obvious?" his sister looked up at him, her sapphire-blue eyes blazing with a fire that seemed almost to burn. "We are going to go and rescue her!"
"And how do you plan to do that?"
"I haven't thought of it yet," Forlan answered with righteous indignation. "That's why I came to you, isn't it?"
"But I don't have a solution either!" Charles frowned. "Perhaps I could lead men to storm the convent and take her away, but what would be the point of that? She would lose her identity and her family, moving from one misfortune to another... If this was her parents' choice, there's nothing I can do."
"You will definitely find a way," Forlan stared intently at her brother, her eyes filled with an unspoken trust. "No matter what it is, you always find a way."
Charles didn't answer.
Tears slowly gathered in the girl's eyes and then rolled down her cheeks.
Charles sighed.
"Alright, I'll think of something. Don't cry, Forlan."
"You promise?" His sister was still suspicious.
"Yes," Charles put on a serious face, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I promise. Just wait. In a few days, your Marie will be back. No one can stop me from bringing her back to your side."
"I knew you'd find a way!" The girl's tears turned to a smile. She threw her arms around her brother in excitement, pressing her chest tightly against him.
This silly girl, acting as if the matter is already resolved! Charles thought with a wry smile, gently patting his sister's back. "Alright, now you should go get some sleep..."
After the girl obediently left the room, Charles collected his thoughts and then decided to do what he most needed to do at that moment.
Sleep.