Flowers, Swords and France

Early the next morning, Charles went to his grandfather to say hello.

The old Marquis leaned on the back of the bed and received his grandson half-lying.

Just like in the past, Charles reported on his recent actions and results in detail. Of course, he didn't tell his grandfather about his previous encounter with the spy, because he didn't want to worry the old man with something that had no shadow yet.

After listening to Charles' report, the Marquis gave his own guidance and suggestions based on his many years of experience, which has always benefited Charles a lot.

Just when Charles finished his report and was about to leave, the old man suddenly spoke softly.

"I met Count La Porta yesterday at a gathering of old officers."

Charles was stunned for a few seconds before he remembered who his grandfather was referring to.

"You mean Marshal Olas Sebastiani?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, that's him. We talked for a long time yesterday." The Marquis nodded lightly. "I have an old friendship with him. During the attack on Russia, I served as the division commander under the First Cavalry Corps commanded by General Nansoudy. He served as the division commander in the Second Cavalry Corps under General Montbrun. Later, General Montbrun He was killed in action, and he took over the command of the Second Cavalry Army, and we retreated to Europe together. Ah..." He suddenly sighed softly, "In fact, looking back now, I was really lucky to come back alive from that ice and snow... …”

The old Marquis has been out and about a lot recently, either to meet his old friends from the military, or to attend gatherings of old officers, reminiscing about old times while building relationships. The purpose is of course self-evident - to echo the policy of the previous meeting, to support the Bonaparte faction. Expand political influence within the military community and win over potential supporters.

The so-called Count La Porta is Marshal Olas Sebastiani. He is a Corsican like the emperor. He was deeply appreciated for his bravery in battle during the imperial era and later became a general of the empire. After the fall of Napoleon, he returned to his hometown as a member of Parliament, and later found a new backer. After the establishment of the July Monarchy, he strongly supported and gained the king's trust. He successively served as Minister of the Navy, Minister of Foreign Affairs and other positions. Finally, in 1840, King Louis-Philippe awarded him the title of Marshal of France. It was not until a few years ago that the marshal officially retired from politics.

"Then what did you talk to him about?" Charles asked softly. He did have some doubts in his heart.

It stands to reason that such a person who has won the trust of the current king would not have the intention to rebel, and he would not have time to deal with someone with evil intentions like himself... But if there are no topics of interest, the two of them will not be able to talk to each other. Why did the conversation last so long?

The old man could guess what his grandson was thinking. "Don't worry, if I don't have a certain degree of certainty, how can I talk nonsense to others?"

"Sorry, I'm just curious..." Ciel quickly explained.

"We talked about the past battles, the emperor, and life after the war. Elderly people in Xishan always have something to talk about." When the Marquis said this, he suddenly frowned slightly, "But...then he suddenly asked me."

"What's the question?"

The Marquis's expression became more and more solemn, and he slowly began to narrate.

………………

In the quiet courtyard of the organizer, a group of gray-haired old people gathered together in the early morning sunshine. They were wearing the uniforms of the past and talking in twos and threes. Sometimes he shouted excitedly, sometimes he cried like a child.

No matter how diligently you preserve the military uniforms from the Imperial Era, time can still make them fade. The uniforms worn by these old people have been damaged to varying degrees, but when worn by these old people, they actually have a subtle sense of harmony.

The Marquis Victor de Treville was talking excitedly to an old comrade about how he bravely charged with his cavalry in the Battle of Jena and how the Prussians panicked and collapsed, when he suddenly felt his sleeves being touched. The person pulled slightly.

He looked behind him subconsciously.

Then his eyes widened in surprise.

"Olas!"

Standing behind him was the white-haired old marshal, wearing a straight military uniform, with a Grand Cross of the French Legion of Honor pinned to the ribbon on his chest. He looked serious, but not nervous.

Seeing Victor's surprised look, he couldn't help but smile, and his serious face relaxed a little.

"Would you like to have a drink with me?"

The two old men slowly walked to a corner and sat down at a small table.

"Olas, why are you free to come to us today? I don't usually see you here." After sitting down, the Marquis was still a little confused.

"I am getting older. I have been retired for too long and have been too idle. I suddenly want to see my old friends." A trace of fatigue flashed across the old marshal's old and wrinkled face. "If you don't come out and take a look, I'm afraid I won't have a chance in the future..."

The Marquis did not say any false words to comfort the other party. He just slowly poured the white wine provided by the party.

"We are all old," he replied calmly.

"Yes, we are all old." The marshal sighed softly. "I can no longer do anything, even walking. Sometimes I really feel that I am a different species than when I was young."

"Sometimes I feel the same way." The Marquis nodded. "When those young people who have nothing to do now look at us, who would remember that it was us who formed the imperial army, followed the emperor and galloped across Europe, beating the kings all over the place? ?”

"Hey..." The marshal sighed again.

The sigh was full of the old soldier's twilight and helplessness.

"Let's have a drink first." The Marquis raised his glass. "Cheers to Jena!"

"Cheers to Jena!"

The marshal picked up the wine glass and took a sip. Then, he suddenly smiled rather strangely.

"My friend, speaking of which, although we are both old, you are much more energetic than me..."

A subtle premonition flashed through the Marquis's heart, but his face remained calm.

"What's wrong? Olas?"

"My friend, tell me honestly, are you preparing for something big recently?"

"How can I do anything big at my age..." The Marquis suddenly laughed and then raised his cup, "Here, let's have a drink. Because you value me so much."

The marshal did not lift his cup, but still stared at the Marquis.

"Victor, don't beat around the bush with me. I'm not a fool. Although your recent actions are kept secret as much as possible, there are always some clues... For example, you, why did you come here recently? Just... Reminiscing about old times?”

"So what?" the Marquis replied.

"It's really not that good." The marshal nodded, "In life, you have to pursue something, right? You are loyal to the emperor and his descendants. There is nothing to say about this. Everyone knows it."

"We all have our own positions." The Marquis poured himself a glass of wine again. "You choose to assess the situation, and I can choose to stick to my loyalty."

"No, you misjudged me." The marshal suddenly laughed again. "I am still loyal to the emperor."

The old Marquis' eyes widened and he looked at the Marshal in disbelief.

Is this guy going to take sides again?

However, after thinking about it, he felt relieved - there is always a group of people in France who are always loyal to the winner. With the current situation being like this, the marshal's performance was not too out of the ordinary.

"The emperor has passed away." The Marquis tried quietly.

"But the Bonaparte family is still there." The old marshal responded to the Marquis' temptation. "And M. Louis Bonaparte is the legitimate heir to the Emperor and the Bonaparte family."

A burst of surprise came to the Marquis's heart, but the caution he had become accustomed to over the years still kept him from being moved at all.

Read the original text in Liu#9@书/吧!

"I'm glad that after so many years of service to M. d'Orléans, you still think so."

"Hahahaha..." The old marshal suddenly laughed. "It is better to serve him than serve Louis XVIII. At least that His Majesty will not just want to kill us."

"Perhaps." The Marquis responded calmly, "Then why do you want to recall the Emperor and M. Louis Bonaparte now?"

"Victor, I am a Corsican! Corsicans are all good men and they all remember kindness. What I always remember is that it was the emperor who turned me from a tailor's son into a general, and he also made me a count. ! When he ran back from Elba in 1815, I immediately followed him and stayed with him until his final defeat! It was fate that left him, not me! "

"It's good that you still remember." The Marquis sighed longly. "Let's drink to the Emperor."

The two drank another drink, and the atmosphere between them seemed to change, from being slightly solemn to relaxed.

"Victor, I know that if you suddenly say this, you can't just believe it." After drinking another glass of wine, the marshal spoke again, "But I have indeed made up my mind to continue to fight for the rest of my life. To serve the emperor’s descendants.”

"What do you want?" The Marquis became a little relaxed.

"What do you want?" The marshal laughed again, "What do I still lack? I already have fame, title, and military rank. What else do I need? Even if I still want something, what's the use of getting it at my age? ?”

"Then you..." The old Marquis hesitated.

"Victor, tell me honestly, at this age you are still so dedicated, is it because of loyalty, or because of something else..." The marshal looked at the Marquis, "For example... for the sake of future generations?"

"Both."

"Are your grandchildren and granddaughters satisfied with you?"

"They are treasures given to me by God, both of them." The Marquis replied simply.

"Yes...yes..." The marshal laughed again, and then there were tears in his eyes. "At our age, what else do we have to look forward to besides our children and grandchildren?"

Without waiting for the Marquis to answer, he continued.

"Victor, you know me, I have only one daughter, Fanny."

"Um."

"She's dead."

"Huh?!" The Marquis was a little shocked.

The old marshal's original calm expression was gradually eroded by sadness. "Just recently."

"How could this happen?!" the Marquis exclaimed, and then looked at the Marshal sympathetically. "sorry……"

Although the Marquis didn't know much about the marshal, he had also heard that his only daughter, Fanny, was previously married to the Duke of Choiseul-Praslan and had two children. Unexpectedly...

Only another old man can understand the mood of an old man in this situation best.

"She was murdered." Tears overflowed from the marshal's eyes.

"Oh God!" the old Marquis exclaimed.

The smiling mask was taken off, leaving only the deepest sadness in the Marshal's eyes.

"Has the murderer been caught? Who is it?"

"The police said it was suicide..." The old marshal raised his head and looked at the sky, "Victor, I know my daughter has not been happy these years, but I know my daughter too well. She is definitely not the kind of person who would give up her life... So..." Tears appeared in his eyes, "She must have been murdered."

"So, you mean, you want us to help find the murderer and avenge your daughter?" The marquis asked softly, "As a reward, you support all our actions?"

"No." The marshal denied it, "I support you because I still remember what the emperor gave me, and I still believe in that person..." He suddenly patted the marquis's shoulder hard, "This is a request as a comrade-in-arms, a request as a father... Victor, help me find and kill the murderer. This is not an order, nor a deal, this is a request, help me, Victor."

Victor felt the pressure on his shoulder and the other party's firm will.

"Okay, Orlas." He nodded gently.

………………

"Charles, find the murderer and kill him." The marquis pinched his grandson's hand, "For my comrade-in-arms."

;