Page 84 of The Velvet Hours
Monsieur Armel softened under the gentle haze of candlelight. The man who only hours before had sat forlornly in an empty storeroom now seemed rejuvenated in Marthe’s presence. He began to speak of his love of books, and illuminated manuscripts, passions that Marthe knew all too well could inspire the spirit and imagination.
And Marthe spoke of her own love of collecting. Her porcelains. Her foray into paintings and being an artist’s muse. Although she did not collect books and certainly nothing connected to Judaica, bothshe and Monsieur Armel soon bonded over their mutual appreciation of all that revealed the imprint of the artist’s hand.
Giselle served chocolate mousse for dessert, and I saw how slowly Alex ate each spoonful. I could sense how he savored the sweetness of the cream, as though each mouthful might be his last.
“You must be on good terms with your dairy,” Monsieur Armel said after he had made sure nothing remained of his chocolate mousse.
Marthe laughed. “We do our best.” I noticed, however, she had not lifted her own spoon.
As the hours ticked away and it seemed clear that midnight would soon be upon us, I heard Alex’s voice come softly into the chatter.
“I think we should be going, Papa. I must leave in the morning.” His voice, although quiet as a child’s, sliced through the air.
Marthe placed her hands on the edge of the dining room table.
“But I have not served the last course yet, Alex.”
His eyes widened and his mouth opened as though he was about to apologize for what appeared to be a misjudgment in manners.
Marthe rose and walked toward the console. Next to a bowl of fruit was an envelope.
“It’s a letter from an old friend of mine. General Antoine d’Angelis,” she said as she pressed it into Alex’s hands. I could see that the red seal on the back of the envelope had already been broken. “Open it, Alex. I think you will like very much what it says.”
***
We all fell silent. I looked over at my grandmother, who now stood next to Alex. The official white stationery from General d’Angelis fluttered slightly in his fingers.
Alex read the letter to himself before reading it aloud. And when he realized the words indicated he would be dismissed from serving in the French army, he stopped midsentence and put the letter down.
“Can this really be?”
“Sometimes a woman can manage to call in a favor,” Marthe said as she returned to her seat. She folded her hands in her lap and smiled. I hadn’t ever seen her look so pleased.
“Can what be?” Monsieur Armel’s voice was impatient.
Alex turned to Marthe. “How did you manage this? It cannot be true.”
“Oh, but I assure you, dear Alex, it is.”
“But what does it say, Alex?” I reached across and touched Alex’s wrist and squeezed it.
“It says I have been dismissed from duty.”
My eyes darted to Marthe, who was now beaming. Enthroned in the tall wooden dining room chair, she appeared triumphant.
Monsieur Armel, however, looked as though he was in a state of disbelief. Even I struggled to believe the contents of the letter were true.
“I have no words,” Monsieur Armel’s voice rattled. “I have never been one to believe in miracles.”
Marthe smiled. “No one is asking you to believe in miracles.” Marthe’s eyes looked over to me, then to Alex. “Instead, I ask you to believe in love.
“I am an old lady now. And Solange is really the only connection to family I have. It is a gift to see her and Alex together.”
“I don’t know how we will ever repay our gratitude.” Monsieur Armel still looked as if he was in shock.
“There is no need to thank me.” Marthe raised her glass. “It has been a gift for me in my old age to witness my granddaughter falling in love.”
My face warmed as she looked over to me. I had never believed my grandmother to be sentimental, but once again she had surprised me.
