The Darkest Night Will End

General Lamarque's Home, Paris, 11:30 am, May 31st, 1832

General Lamarque's Home, Paris 11:30 am, May 31st, 1832

"Monsieur? The General sent for me?" Jacquelyn asked hesitantly.

The man who had opened the door at their knock nodded, "Mademoiselle Coste, come in, He's been asking to see you."

"What's going on?" They asked, following him into the hall, "The message seemed quite urgent, but the doctor was headed away when I approached. Is the General getting better?"

"You better see for yourself," He said, hurrying them down the hall, "He's in there."

The door was opened, and Jacquelyn practically pushed inside, looked around the grand bedroom, "Monsieur Lamarque? You asked to see me?"

The man, propped up on a pile of pillows, was very much showing his age, coughing, "I know you're busy."

"All you alright Monsieur?"

"I'd like to give you a word of warning."

A maid hustled into the room, moving around Jacquelyn, to the windows, pulling the shutters closer to closed, and Jacquelyn frowned, "Leave those open. I'm no doctor, but fresh air should do him good."

"The doctors all left this morning." He responded weakly.

Jacquelyn grinned, moving closer to his bedside, where the maid had pulled up a stool, "Your kidding."

"I need a favor."

"Whatever you say sir, its good to hear your getting well again."

Lamarque raised his eyebrows, "Talk less. I need you to write an address."

Jacquelyn took the pen and paper offered to them, "Yes! You've regained your health you can finally speak to the people again-"

"No, I won't be reading this to the people." He cut them off.

Their face twisted in confusion, "I thought the doctors had left- you were doing better."

"I sent the doctors away this morning," He shuddered with another cough, "My staff is preparing for mourning."

"I'm sorry- what?" The pen nearly fell from their hand.

"One last time, the doctors could only see me one last time. Then I lost my patience, you're gonna help the people how to say goodbye, say goodbye."

Suddenly the weight of his sickness seemed to his Jacquelyn like a brick, and a strange air seemed to hang about the room, "Surely- you won't die- you- why?"

He raised a bony hand to point to the paper, "It should say something about the dangers of monarchy."

"Monsieur- with the people on edge- the verge of rebellion, are you sure this is a good idea. You could still get better!"

"And when they succeed, I want to warn against partisan fighting," He pointed to the paper again, "Pick up that pen start writing! Talk about what they need to learn, the hard won wisdom I had earned."

"As far as the people are concerned- As far as I'm concerned, You have to serve, you could push through and continue to serve." They said desperately.

"No! It's my time! Jacquelyn you must understand, it's my time! And if you get this we'll teach them to say goodbye, say goodbye- you and I!"

Jacquelyn swallowed tears, "Lamarque, you- you can't just give up! You'll get better! You have too! What will the people do without you? What will I do? You're the last person I have from then!"

He smiled, weakly, "My dear, you have to understand. I'm an old man, there's nothing I can do but take it, die like this, and keep my honor. You'll manage without a tie to the past, you have all the ties you need in your memory. It's okay to say goodbye."

"But why do we have to say goodbye?" They cried.

"If I say goodbye, the nation will surely move on, the revolution could outlive me when I'm gone," He coughed again, and the maid rushed to his side, tipping up his head to pour water in, "Like the scripture says, everyone shall live under their own vine, and fig tree, and no one shall make them afraid."

"If my death is the cause of them getting that fig tree then so be it." He added, "They'll be safe in the nation you'll make."

"But you should get to sit under your own vine and fig tree, a moment alone in the shade. At home in the nation we'll make." Jacquelyn insisted.

Lamarque smiled, "It's simply my time."

A silence settled over the room, as Jacquelyn slowly began to write, small sobs shaking their shoulders.

The only sounds in the room were Jacquelyn's pen scratching pavement, the rattle of a tea set being brought in.

By the time they had finished, the butler had returned, "Sir, your son, and his wife are here."

Lamarque nodded, "Take the paper from Jacquelyn and show her out and send them in."

"I don't want to lose you. I- I don't want to go, not if I don't have too yet." They said quickly.

The butler took their arm, "Come along. The General needs to see his family."

When they turned back to him he smiled, "Chin up my dear, this isn't really goodbye. Maybe I'll hang on long enough to see you again."