Chapter 952: Schérer's Travelogue V
Chapter 952: Schérer's Travelogue V
Elijah's face instantly turned ashen as he glared at his daughter. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?"
"Yes, Father," Corinna replied, nodding firmly. "I love Twaite, and I am going to marry him."
"Have you lost your mind?!" Elijah hissed, struggling to suppress his mounting fury. "He is nothing more than a tailor's son. More than that, he's a cripple now. He has no right to even dream of marrying you..."
Corinna abandoned her usual timid demeanor and loudly cut him off.
"No, Father! He is a respected warrior and a hero of France! He was awarded the Silver Iris Medal for his bravery. He has the right to be loved by anyone!"
Startled by his daughter's sudden outburst of spirit, Elijah raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down, dear. You must understand—he's missing a hand. He's useless now. Do you honestly intend to follow him into a life of starvation?"
Corinna took a deep, steadying breath. "Do you even know how he was injured?
"While charging the Cologne fortress, he used all his strength to shove an enemy cannon aside. At that moment, the cannon was aimed directly at hundreds of French soldiers. He saved them!
"To me, he is the greatest hero in the world. I won't let him go, even if it means we have to starve."
"You... you've completely lost your wits!"
Corinna continued, undeterred, "Actually, you don't need to worry about us. Twaite receives a pension, and I can earn money myself."
"What good is that pittance?" Elijah roared. "It wouldn't even cover Old John's wages!
"And that tailor's son has no noble title. He'll never be promoted to an officer. What can a lowly, crippled common soldier possibly achieve?"
Corinna emphasized every word. "Father, I will say it one more time: he is a respected hero. Please do not refer to him as 'the tailor's son.'
"As for me, I am going to marry him."
"No! I will never allow it!"
Corinna said nothing more. She simply turned and retreated to her room.
Elijah followed her and caught a glimpse of her through the door; she was already packing her bags.
"You... you're going to be the death of me!" he bellowed up the stairs. "Gina! Take your mistress down to the basement immediately!"
A state of chaos and panic erupted within Elijah Richter's household, persisting until he finally slammed the basement door and turned the lock with a vengeful click.
Elijah noticed his cousin and her husband standing nearby, awkward and silent. Suddenly remembering his promise to lend them money, he grabbed Baron Schérer and led him toward the door.
"Forgive me for that display. Let's go to the bank now. Lukas's matter is more urgent."
In truth, he simply wanted to escape the sound of his daughter's screams.
In the square before the Reims Cathedral, hundreds of people were still gathered. They were setting off fireworks in celebration, their voices rising in a constant chorus: "Long live General Masséna!"
"Long live His Royal Highness the Crown Prince!"
"The warriors of France are invincible!"
Elijah maintained a dark expression the entire way. At the bank, he used a bill of exchange to withdraw 4,600 Francs in paper notes. He and Schérer then immediately boarded a carriage and headed for the Reims branch of the Bank of France.
They needed to exchange the paper for gold coins, as the bureaucrats in Vienna would likely refuse to accept Francs.
Schérer stared nervously at the leather bag in his brother-in-law's hands. It contained a fortune of over 4,000 Francs. If they encountered any bandits on the road, the consequences would be unthinkable.
"Elijah," he suggested in a low voice, "should we hire a few guards? I mean, there might be gang members about."
Elijah waved him off, pointing out the window at the patrolling gendarmerie. "Don't worry. The police in Reims get more excited seeing a gang member than a wolf does seeing meat. The gangs were wiped out here years ago.
"We only need to watch out for pickpockets. That's why I brought my pistol."
As expected, the journey was uneventful. Elijah handed the banknotes to the Bank of France and received an exchange application. Because of the large sum, they would have to wait three days to receive the actual gold coins.
With the business concluded, Elijah sank back into his gloomy mood, muttering things like "that damned tailor's son" and "Corinna has definitely gone mad."
Having just suffered the loss of one son while his younger son's life hung in the balance, Schérer couldn't help but sigh. "Elijah, truly, as long as the children are happy, that is more important than anything else.
"With your wealth, you don't need to worry about their future livelihood.
"Perhaps you could give the boy some consideration..."
"No! Absolutely not!" Elijah shook his head stubbornly. "Corinna must marry a noble of standing. I don't lack money, but I want her to have status. My grandchildren cannot be looked down upon by others!"
His eldest son had died of illness in Syria four years ago, leaving Corinna as his sole heir.
He suddenly remembered something and barked at the driver, "Rodolphe! You must know where that tailor lives. Take me there, quickly!"
His daughter had often taken the family carriage to visit Twaite, so the driver was already quite familiar with the route.
Rodolphe did not dare to disobey his master in such a towering rage and turned the carriage toward the northern part of the city.
The carriage rolled into the artisans' district of Reims, finally coming to a halt on a narrow street.
The driver gestured toward an old two-story building across the road. "Master, he lives on the second floor, facing the street."
Elijah frowned at the sight of ribbons and flowers decorating the building's main entrance, but he stepped down and walked toward it with quick strides anyway.
Schérer hesitated, then followed closely behind, worried that his brother-in-law might start a fight.
A moment later, the two men reached the second floor and knocked on the door facing the street.
The door opened almost immediately. Seeing seven or eight people inside, Schérer whispered urgently to his brother-in-law, "Please, do not do anything impulsive."
Elijah ignored him and stepped into the room. Seeing no sign of his daughter's boyfriend, he demanded loudly, "Which one of you is Mr. Twaite?"
A kind-faced, balding man in his late thirties, of modest stature, stepped forward. He bowed politely to Elijah. "Gentlemen, I am Twaite. How can I help you?"
Elijah's voice was cold. "My name is Richter. You may have heard of it. My daughter is Corinna Richter."
Old Twaite's face instantly lit up with joy. He nudged the people around him aside and gestured warmly for them to enter. "So it's you! This is wonderful! Please, come in. Maryann, go brew the best coffee we have. It is Mr. Richter!"
Elijah intended to say "that won't be necessary," but he found himself being ushered to a wooden table in the center of the room. He sat down, cleared his throat, and began, "Mr. Twaite, I've come here to discuss the matter of your son and Corinna."
The tailor nodded repeatedly. "Of course, Mr. Richter. Please, go ahead."
The door to the inner room was suddenly pushed open. A young man wearing a white military uniform emerged. His left arm was significantly shorter than his right, the end wrapped in thick bandages. He bowed respectfully to Elijah before asking anxiously:
"Mr. Richter, Corinna, she..."
Elijah was about to say "Corinna has decided to stop seeing you," when he suddenly heard the rhythmic sound of marching feet from the street below. Judging by the sound, there were at least a hundred men.
Then came the music of an organ and military drums.
There was another knock on the door, followed by a man's powerful, resonant voice:
"Is this the Twaite residence? General Masséna has come to visit Sergeant Twaite."
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