LESENFANTSDELAPATRIE

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LES ENFANTS DE LA PATRIEA STORY FROM THE 1790SIt was quite dark and lonely in there, but Etienne had got finally used to it. Though he wasntcertain of when, he was sure he should be executed.Suddenly, he caught sight of the candle-light. It was a little flickering flame that gave away some

of its precious glow and warmth to all of his self.Through the faint light of the candle, Etienne could discern some glittering bayonets and the

lace of the officers uniform, and the keyring on the officers waist.Then he felt once more the temptation of snatching the keychain, but this time the officer lookedat his blemished face with uncanny sympathy.This evening, as he was offered supper, the officer was there, staring at Etienne through thebars and introducing himself:-Me, Lieutenant Gilles Leroux. Been here for three weeks.-Me, Viscount Etienne DArcy. Been here for...

The most surprising thing was their resemblance to each other. Stripped of his wig and facepaint, the aristocrat was the spitting image of the second lieutenant. Both were in their earlytwenties, well-shaped, and handsome, with nut-brown hair, hazel eyes and fine features. Theycould as well have been twin brothers.-Whats going on, Lieutenant? -both could hear. Looking over his shoulder slightly, Gillesreplied:-Nothing at all...

Then the candle-light was out of sight and one of them returned upstairs, to the officersquarters, while the other lay down on the cold, hard floor that bruised his fair skin.Evenings came and went as they learned to know each other, wishing for the grate to vanishand staring at each other by the mild candle-light.

Etienne, in those tattered and old-fashioned garments, and Gilles, in that handsome blueuniform with epaulettes and shortsword by his side, burst one of those evenings into laughterat unison... perchance because, through elusive appearances, the past self of each one wasbetrayed through the eyes and clothes of the other. And one turned out to be more refined, theother more modest.Their complementary stories resounded through the conscience of both when the time to saygoodbye came every night.The young viscount, Etienne, was known throughout the Chateau Versailles for his extravagantform of acting. He was seen in the ballrooms, in the woods during the deer hunt, by foreign

statesmens side, with the royal children when the queen had too much to do...He was fianc to a colonels daughter, a fine damsel, and never in his life forced to struggle

for life. He was also an only child. In the wake of revolution, he had lost the only lifestyle (anextravagant and decadent one) he had ever known.

And now he had got used to struggle by instinct within the confined space of three walls and agrate, where traitors to the Republic were locked in. The slatestone floor and the soup he dranktwice a day had changed his state of health, and made his skin look like a brittle silk cloth.However, what Etienne dArcy missed the most wasnt macarons or downy beds, but contact


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with others. And now this problem belonged to the past as well......with that commoner, lovechild of an actress, turned lieutenant a few weeks ago. Gilles didntrecall how hard he had tried to succeed as a boy-player and live without worries or sorrows.That strife was part of the past and forgotten amidst glasses of liquor drunk at officers suppersand jokes, having his boots blacked by a servant of his own.

They had, like Pyramus and Thisbe, to see each other in secret, both certain that one of themshould die. And it seemed that Etienne should be that one.The revolution had uplifted the humble and struck down the haughty, like the wrath of the now-fabled Lord would do on Judgment Day.The young viscount and that officer looked like each others reflection. Many a time, afterpassing his empty bowl of soup through the grate, Etienne responded to Gilles by passing hissmooth and pale hands through it by faint candle-light.That night the lieutenant lay in his downy feather-bed, and the convict lay on the floor. And

both thought of the ironic fact that a republic of freedom, equality and brotherhood could take

innocent prisoners and execute them.

Weeks passed on and the execution of Marie Antoinette led Austria, allied with Prussia, to

declare war on France.

And thus, Gilles was transferred to another regiment and sent to the frontline, to fulfil once more

his patriotic ambitions and rise to a higher level of the officer class.

And so, both took farewell of each other.

It was a fresh and cloudy spring day. Gilles and his detachment hadnt done anything more than

run forward, amidst cornflower stalks, in their blue uniforms. Shouting, leaping, singing Allonsenfants de la patrie, they followed their officer across the plains, looking forward, with glittering

fixed bayonets and the wish to rise through the ranks.

Then... Bang!

His cheeks pale as white rose petals and a bright red stain on his blue coat, he collapsed and

stood still. His men and his sergeant turned towards him, seized his wrists, but he couldnt be

healed: a Prussian bullet had pierced the lieutenants heart.

It all lasted one second. The last he ever saw, and he ever heard, was the fatal gunshot. And

he passed away instantly, without a fever, without feeling anything. He had given his life for the

sake of the regime he had contributed to create.

Meanwhile, Etienne was trying hard to take a stone from the wall. He had been doing that

for a few weeks. Every day, he took out a different stone and set it back in its place. Those

stones were easy to recognize, since they were bloodstained. Due to the effort he had to make,

Etiennes hands bled when he took out those stones.


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Some light from the sun was filtered through the cracks the convict had made. He had obviously

lost weight and strength the last days, and rested for a long time between stone removals. And

he had completely forgotten Gilles.

Now unrecognizable (his ribs were seen through the thin skin and he had turned pale as if he

were wearing face paint again), he looked just like a commoner. And he expected the day whenhe had taken out enough stones to escape through the hole.

Then, Etienne would take a stagecoach to Calais, and after that a ship bound for more northern

climates.

But he was discovered by the garrison in the act of removing one of those stones.

Then they unexpectedly opened the grate. They flanked him with their bayonets when he made

his first steps to the freedom he had been denied.

The light of the sun dazzled his eyes.

Soon he wasnt aware that he was on a scaffold, above a crowd, before a guillotine.

He didnt listen to the charges against him, nor to the crowds demanding his execution.

He laid his head down and, without resisting, let the hastily descending steel blade enter the

back of his neck... because he was already dying of exhaustion, after many a day of struggle,

the floreal afternoon when he was put to death.

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LESENFANTSDELAPATRIE