Where the Light Falls(24)
“What are you up for this evening—watered-down potato soup or watered-down carrot soup?” Gavreau smiled as they strolled away from their administrative building near the Palais de Justice. “What I wouldn’t give for a bit of meat.”
Jean-Luc threw his jacket over his shoulders. “Someplace close.”
“Fine, we’ll go to La Colombe. The new serving woman there might just have the largest tits I’ve ever seen.” The boss lifted his hands to reinforce his meaning.
Jean-Luc ignored the lewd gesture. “So then, what’s this news you wanted to share?”
“News? Oh yes, that’s right. I’ve got someone you will want to meet.”
Jean-Luc tossed his head back, exasperated. “Gavreau, how many times have I tried to tell you? I am a happily married man. I don’t wish to meet any of your lady friends.”
“No, not that.” The old bachelor chuckled. “I mean it this time. He arrives in Paris this weekend. Even Robespierre himself is trying to arrange a meeting with him.”
Jean-Luc could tell from his manager’s shift in tone that this was no jest. “What’s his name?”
“His name is Maurice Merignac. He happens to be the personal secretary to Guillaume Lazare.”
Jean-Luc halted his step, looking at his boss in stunned silence. After a moment, he repeated the name, unsure he had heard correctly: “Guillaume Lazare?”
Gavreau nodded, a proud smile blooming across his face.
“How do you know the personal secretary to Guillaume Lazare?” Jean-Luc could not conceal the skepticism in his voice, and he instantly regretted it, fearing that he might have offended his friend.
“Ah, so you know who he is, my virtuous young colleague?”
“Of course I know who Guillaume Lazare is. He’s tried more cases for the new Republic than—”
“He’s won more cases for the Republic than any other lawyer,” Gavreau corrected him. “I tell you, the corrupt clergymen and nobility of this country fear Guillaume Lazare more than they fear the devil himself.”
Jean-Luc thought about this, remembering that Guillaume Lazare had previously worked for the king. Since the sacking of the Bastille, however, the legendary attorney had been hard at work sending his old friends from the royal court to the prisons.
“St. Clair, I’m telling you, you must meet Maurice. You want to be a big lawyer someday—well, it just so happens that Maurice Merignac might be able to introduce you to Guillaume Lazare. The brightest legal mind in all of France.”
“And you can arrange an introduction?” Jean-Luc did not attempt to mask his disbelief now as they walked on.
“It just so happens, ye of little faith, that I can.” Gavreau rested his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest, defensive. “It helps to be a gregarious man-about-town. Believe it or not, I happen to know a few people.”
Jean-Luc was about to inquire further when he noticed the crowd swelling in front of them. Voices were raised in competing hollers, and the windows overlooking the street sprouted clusters of eavesdroppers who leaned out over the crowd.
“What’s all this?” Jean-Luc paused, Gavreau halting beside him.
“Paper! Get your paper! News from the front!”
“Hey, you!” Gavreau grabbed the shoulder of the little paperboy, probably eight years old, who was just then weaving his way through the crowd. Gavreau put a sou in the urchin’s grime-caked hand and took one of his papers.
“What news?” Jean-Luc asked, leaning over Gavreau’s shoulder. “Has the battle begun?”
“Looks like our boys have found the enemy in the woods at Valmy,” Gavreau said, scanning the page. “The Habsburgs have joined their armies with the Prussians. Seems they still fancy a trip to Paris.”
Jean-Luc felt his pulse begin to race. If the Prussians were in fact marching on Paris, he had to get home to Marie. But would it be more dangerous in the city or on the roads leading out of it? “Have we been defeated?”
“Not sure,” Gavreau said. “But Kellermann is there to stop the bastards. I fancy he’s got as good a chance as anyone to send those German-speaking barbarians back across the Rhine.”
Jean-Luc paused. “Say, I had better get home to Marie. To warn her of…all this.”
Gavreau frowned. “No dinner?”
Jean-Luc shrugged, apologetic. “She’s alone at home with Mathieu.”
“Fine, fine. Run to your woman. I imagine she’s all afright.” Gavreau waved him away. “But if they ring the bells, you’re coming back here to fight alongside me. I’ll need someone to keep me from soiling myself up on the walls when I see those Prussians approach.”