Page 17 of The Darkest Oath

Élise peered over her shoulder at Rollant. “Could you please stoke the fire and heat the water pan for her bed? Its grown cold.”

He nodded and did what was asked of him without a word. His presence frightened the woman, and he didn’t want to scare her further.

After spending some time there cleaning, washing, and cooking porridge, they left. Marie called out after Élise as they headed to the door, “Bring him back. He was good.”

Élise smiled at Rollant before answering Marie. “I think today was just a one-time visit. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Élise. I wish a good life for you.” Marie snuggled in her warm bed to wait for her children to return.

The door closed, and they walked back to the street.

Rollant noticed out of the three baguettes she had started the day with, she only had a third of one left. “Are you hungry, Rollant?” she asked, offering him the last of her bread.

Her hand grazed his, and he wanted to grasp it and kiss her fingers. His admiration of Élise’s kindness mirrored that of Amée. He would not fall in love again, though. He couldn’t, for Élise’s sake, but Élise was making it hard not to be mesmerized by her.

“You earn three baguettes from the night prior and share almost of all of it with others? Including me, a man you’ve only known for a few hours?” He gave in to his desire and grasped her hand, holding the bread out to him, and pressed it back into her arm. “I cannot.”

“I was hungry as a child when my aunt forced me to sleep outside with no food if I didn’t bring in enough stolen coins.” Her gaze turned inward. “A stranger gave me a piece of bread to eat. I never saw him again, nor would I remember his face if I did meet him, but it made me realize I might have died that night with nothing to eat. And that generous slice of bread saved my life. I vowed if I had ever had bread, I would share it.”

Rollant asked, “Even if it is a risk that you may not get to eat?”

“In the end, it’s all risk—surviving or not.” She pressed the bread toward him.

He smiled in awe of her as he folded the bread cloth around it and put it back in her arms. “Do you need to be anywhere? I found a cafe in Bastille that would be out of Gabin’s communal reach. I would assume you haven’t eaten yet today. I, of course, would have you back to Gabin’s bakery before sundown.” He told himself to stop, and yet her act of genuine selflessness had stirred the selfishness within him. He did not intend to stay long enough to build a memorable friendship, and yet he was asking to take her to a cafe for the day.

“Oh, I cannot afford a cafe,” she said, shrank back from him, and glanced around.

“It will be my way of saying thank you for your friendly company today,” he said. “Come with me, or if not, I do not want to take your bread. I don’t have a need for it. The navy paid well enough, and I’ve saved a little,” he said with a chuckle.

“Well, you should save it more. Don’t spend it on me.”

“I insist. And we can get away from prying eyes and ears,” he said, glancing at a few women whispering to each other but alternating glances at Rollant and Élise.

Élise sighed. “I am only afraid they will tell Gabin I was with you.”

“Well, I will tell him that I took you to Bastille to help me, and if he wants to hit me, he can fight me like a man.” He smirked and lied. “I was the best sprawler on theVille de Paris.”

Élise shook her head. “You?” She bit her smiling lip and tilted her head. “Well, just this once. I can plead with Gabin if he hears about it.” She gave the rest of her bread to some children on their way to Bastille.

* * *

The Bastille prison fortress,a symbol of royal power, imposed upon the skyline. Wealthier homes intermingled with the working class, however, where weathered artisans and craftsmen shops lined the grimy streets of Faubourg Saint-Antoine, cafes and taverns lined the cleaner streets of Bastille. He led her to Le Lys Blanc, a small cafe near the northern border of the Bastille district, where the faint aroma of roasted coffee lured in patrons before they could see the sign above its worn wooden doors and stone façade.

He could afford the rare restaurant the nobility frequented and give Élise the meal she dreamed of. Still, he needed to blend in, so he brought her to the subtle sanctuary of Le Lys Blanc, with intimate two-person seating catered to the working class and hushed conversations about the future of France. He guided her to an open table by the fire and let her sit next to the warmth while his back faced the brisk spring air in the middle of the room.

She fidgeted with her apron and glanced around at the well-polished wooden panels and the few pastoral paintings decorating the minimalist walls. The room’s warm, low light cast Élise in such a beautiful glow, especially with the hearth light shining behind her as if God was presenting her to him, a gift in his immortal plight. Thus, it would be a short-lived gift, for it wasn’t the place or the time to grow attached.

“I’ve never set foot in a cafe before,” she whispered just as a boy approached the table.

“Drinks, food?” the boy asked with a break in his voice. He slapped his dingy towel over his arm.

“A coffee, black, bread, cheese, and perhaps a stew and a pastry.” He gestured to Élise. “For you?”

“The same,” she said quickly, with a blush covering her cheeks.

“I’ll be back,” the boy said, running off to the wooden counter where the shop’s owner fulfilled orders.

Rollant turned his attention back to Élise.

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