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By Vera d'Auriac
“Sir, it is such an honor to have you here,” smiled Saverio Breda, the young man Germont had agreed to let marry his daughter. “Bianca is the most remarkable girl in all of France, so any member of her family is as welcome to me as sunshine.”
Germont smiled in return, although he felt that the young man was laying it on a bit thick. Still, his darling Bianca was happy, and that was all that mattered to him. It might be all he had left to hope for. “And I am honored to be in the home of your family. You have made Bianca so happy, and that is all that matters to me.” He squeezed an arm around his daughter's shoulders, pulling her in to kiss the top of her head.
“Oh, Papa,” she said with a giggle. “You'll muss my hair.”
After this greeting from his son-in-law to be, Germont wandered freely through the select company in the Breda family home. The gathering consisted of only a few families, but he knew showing his daughter with her future family would have larger implications in society. She could not have been more darling and generally beloved, but now that she looked to marry into a wealthy and rising family, the stakes were different. Before, she had been a nice girl from a good, established family. Now she would be the wife of the scion of a transportation fortune. Standards had changed in France, and Germont had every intention of putting his best foot forward for his daughter's sake. She deserved the best that the world had to offer, and he would see that she got it.
“Monsieur Germont,” said Madame Breda, suddenly at his elbow. “It is so good that you could come today. I had been hoping to have a word with you.”
Throughout this little speech, Madame Breda had been looking at Saverio and Bianca, never at Germont himself. She had a weak smile on her lips that he didn't take for truth. His eyes scanned her busy parlor, studying the other society ladies and gentlemen gathered around spindly legged tables with oversized flower vases, scuffing across the thick, patterned rug, and sipping tea from delicately designed Limoges cups. He saw nothing to account for her less than enthusiastic smile.
“I am at your disposal,” he answered.
“Let us walk in the garden. I believe my husband may have crept out there to smoke one of his ghastly cigars.”
Germont suspected that the man actually smoked excellent cigars, and he found himself hoping that Monsieur Breda would have a spare to offer. Naturally, he kept this to himself and followed Madame Breda through the doors out into the garden. He might not know what was coming next, but it was, at least, a beautifully sunny day.
Madame Breda remained silent, but Germont declined to follow her lead on this. They would be family soon. The families ought to feel comfortable around one another. “We are lucky with the weather today,” he opened. “Do you ever entertain out here in your lovely garden?”
It truly was an impeccably maintained space. If anything, too well maintained, which did not normally seem possible in a French garden. And yet, it appeared as though some gardener must have removed every flower that dared to grow without a perfectly straight stem. Still, he would much rather find himself in an overly fussy garden than some wild English monstrosity.
“We prefer the comfort of the parlors,” Madame Breda replied without further explanation or comment.
He was about to try another bit of small talk when they rounded a shrubbery to find Monsieur Breda pacing the gravel walk, hands clasped tightly behind his back. Germont could spot no cigar. This meeting felt increasingly like an ambush. But for what cause?
“Monsieur Breda,” Germont nodded. “A lovely party. I congratulate you.”
“Yes,” he waved in return. “But what are you going to do about the problem?”
So, it was an ambush, but Germont still did not know for what reason. His stomach sank as he guessed.
“Dear,” Madame Breda hissed, “I have not broached the problem yet. I had been waiting until we joined you.”
Monsieur Breda grunted. “You may not have brought it up, but surely he knows.” Monsieur Breda stopped his pacing. “I'm certain that you understand we cannot be delicate about this subject when it's just the three of us.”
“Four of us,” said Saverio, slipping up beside his mother. Germont had not seen him approaching. Bianca was not with him. Germont did not know where she had been left, but with whatever was about to occur he thanked God she found herself elsewhere.
Germont gently cleared his throat. “I fear that if the situation is as important as you imply, I would appreciate unequivocal clarity, if you do not mind.”
“Your son,” cut in Madame Breda. “And that...fallen woman.”
It was as Germont had feared. He knew the reports of Alfredo and the courtesan he had brought into his life. Germont had no intention of speaking with the boy until he hopefully found his way back to Godly ways. But boys and courtesans had been having affairs for centuries. The issue did not require a serious talk with future in-laws.
“Ah, yes,” Germont said. “I have heard about my son's current amour. I wrote to encourage him to return here for the summer. Provance is in his veins. I have no doubt he will return to his senses once he breathes his native air once again.”
Madame raised an eyebrow. “He has agreed to come?”
“Well, no. Not as of yet, but I do hope.”
“So, in the meantime, he is living openly with that harlot in Paris,” snapped Monsieur Breda.
“Mademoiselle Valery has, perhaps, strayed from the path, shall we say, but I do not know that we need to use that term.” He nodded to Madame Breda. “Particularly in front of ladies.”
Madame snorted in the most unladylike fashion Germont had ever seen her do anything. “Do not trouble yourself with my sensibilities. Rather, trouble yourself with your daughter's reputation.”
“Bianca’s reputation? What in the name of God are you talking about? She is the most pure angel God has ever blessed a father with.”
Saverio scowled. “But will people still call her pure when they think about the whore her beloved brother has taken up with?”
Germont couldn't imagine anyone questioning the goodness and chastity of his darling girl. She had never done anything wrong in her life. She could not be more proper had she grown up in a convent.
“This Valery woman will taint Bianca’s reputation,” Madame Breda said. “People will question her piety and propriety. We, of course, do not. She is a good and sweet girl. But the rest of the world doesn't know that.”
“My business partners don't know that,” snapped Monsieur Breda. “I had some fisherman loading his catch on the Paris express asking if I knew anything about that Valery woman. A fisherman. One of my business partners was standing beside me and asked why the fisherman would pose such a question to me. The fisherman said we just looked like fine men who have been to Paris, but my partner knew. He knew my son was about to connect our family to that infamous woman.”
“Yes, I see,” Germont replied softly. “I can, of course, write to Alfredo again. I agree that it would be best for him if this liaison ended sooner rather than later.”
“I do not believe you fully understand,” said Madame Breda.
“We cannot allow our son, my heir, to marry your daughter, no matter how sweet she is, as long as your son is cavorting with that woman!”
“Your son will never be welcome here,” Saverio said with a sneer.
Germont thought to himself, “But you said to me not ten minutes ago that any member of Bianca’s family would always be welcome in your home.” Germont said nothing, though. The fact was that he found the entire situation embarrassing. That his son should be taken in by a courtesan. That the family his darling girl would marry into would be so fastidious about Alfredo's indiscretion. He felt like the only adult in this situation. One did not fall under the thrall of a courtesan, but no one reasonable held it against a young man if he did for a time. God grant Germont strength.
He looked across the garden, over the azaleas and tulips. He spotted Bianca coming out of the house, looking a bit lost. She must be on the hunt for her beloved. It would crush her if Saverio tossed her aside. She had never done anything in her life to deserve such abominable treatment. He must protect her from pain. At all costs.
He turned his attention back to the Breda family—first Bianca’s betrothed and then mother and father. He could see in their newly enriched scowls that they were in earnest about Alfredo and this Violetta Valery. He missed the old days and the old families. But times changed, and young men simply did not throw away their futures on courtesans.
“I will go myself to Paris,” Germont said at last. He looked up again and saw his daughter smiling up at the sun. “I promise this will be resolved promptly.”
***
My son,
I have arrived in Paris in hopes of accomplishing in person what I failed at in my last letter. You must come home with me. Circumstances have changed, and it is no longer possible for you to remain in Paris living your current life. I know this will strike you as unfair, just the same as I know you will wish to defy me for the simple pleasure of being defiant. But childish behavior such as this must be put behind you. It is time for you to act as a man ought and think of your family before your own enjoyment.
I am anxiously awaiting the opportunity to discuss this in person.
Regards,
Your father
***
Germont's initial plan of action had been to speak with his son and force him to see sense. If necessary, Germont was prepared to invoke the love he knew his son held for his sister. Surely this would see the situation sorted.
But he could not find Alfredo at the rooms he still rented or anywhere else in the city. Careful listening around the fashionable cafes and restaurants allowed him to discover his son could most likely be found at a house just outside of Paris. Alfredo, of course, lived there with this Valery woman. He preferred to deal directly with Alfredo without bringing Mademoiselle Valery into a family issue directly. But when Germont received no response to the letter he'd left at Alfredo's rooms, he saw no choice but to head to this country house.
What he had not expected was to find Violetta alone. Even less had he anticipated the nobility of her spirit and heart. How had such a remarkable woman fallen into such an infamous state? Yet if a woman like Violetta could fall, what woman could not under the wrong situation? Her goodness only caused Germont to fear more for Bianca. In another better, more just world, Violetta might be his daughter. It both broke his heart and steeled his will.
She promised to end her liaison with Alfredo, even though Germont could see that it caused her pain. If he could leave them happily in their country love nest, wishing they might keep the opulent furnishings Violetta had said she intended to sell, he would. A man and woman might find love in such a place, with their little garden and fresh air. But this world would not allow it. He understood how his son had been drawn into this life, but it could not continue.
After leaving Violetta, he tried to return to Paris, but instead he found himself tarrying in the countryside, lost in these thoughts. How could God allow a woman so willing to sacrifice herself for others to suffer such an ignominious life? Yes, the more Germont thought of Violetta, he could understand how Alfredo had fallen so hopelessly in love that he would abandon both reason and proper society. The boy's heart would break when Violetta set her scheme into motion to push him away. He would need his father.
What precisely was her plan? She had claimed that Germont would attempt to stop her if he knew. Would he? Almost certainly he would wish to. The only question was if thoughts of Bianca would allow him to stand by while Violetta went through with causing herself and Alfredo pain.
Yes, he surely would. Bianca needed his protection. He loved his son. And even after only a single, brief meeting, he loved Violetta, as well. But Violetta and Alfredo were both adults, and more worldly than most. They had to know their love would not last forever.
When he was young, Germont had known.
No. He would not think on the ancient history of his own past now. As he had told Violetta, love faded and never lasted, as he knew. The best one could hope for was to settle in with someone tolerable with whom you could raise children. Well, that was the best Alfredo could hope for. Violetta.... Well, perhaps she could go abroad and find someone who did not know of her past and only cared for her noble heart. She was young. She could find someone. But it could not be Alfredo. Bianca's happiness lay in the balance, and she had never done anything to deserve sadness. She was an innocent. Violetta seemed to understand, and Alfredo could be made to.
Still, it would be hard for Alfredo. Germont rushed back to the house. Perhaps Alfredo had returned. If so, he would need his father.
***
The meeting with Alfredo proved even more painful than Germont could possibly have anticipated. The boy was mad with pain and more stubborn than ever. He cared nothing for his father's pleas or reason. All Alfredo could feel was a need for Violetta.
When Germont had entered, Alfredo held a letter, presumably from Violetta, who was no longer in the house. What did the letter say? She had promised to drive Alfredo away, but God! Alfredo looked lost, with so much despair in his eyes, Germont almost questioned his resolve. But he would not ruin Violetta's sacrifice. He would honor it, and her wish to make certain Alfredo understood her goodness one day. One day when Alfredo had put her well behind him and had found love with another. Germont could not risk telling him sooner.
Alfredo, though, rash and devastated, would not listen to reason. He refused all attempts at comfort, instead cursing his father. Cursing him! Who was this boy? Did Alfredo really not understand how much this was costing him? Germont had traveled under the threat of ruining his daughter's happiness if he failed to talk his son into behaving properly. Germont had felt humiliated that the Breda family forced him into this position. He had even felt embarrassed when he found himself forced to speak to the woman causing his grief. But that humiliation had quickly faded when he understood Violetta's soul. And yet, he had sacrificed his pride to come here and deal with his errant son, only to have the boy equate his fatherly embrace to being devoured by serpents.
Yet, how much more would he sacrifice for Bianca’s happiness? Well, at the least, he would be sacrificing a night's sleep. Alfredo had run off in search of Violetta. In his distraught state, God only could say what Alfredo might do. Germont had to go after him. Stop his son from doing anything he might regret or that might further harm his sister.
***
Germont's humiliation was complete when he found his son. Before a crowd, Alfredo threw money at the trembling Violetta, shouting the worst accusations, making the foulest implications.
“A man who offends a woman, even in anger, merits nothing but scorn. Where is my son?”
Those were the words Germont spoke, but in his heart, Germont said something else.
“If this is the man my son has become, who else can be blamed but myself?”
The only recompense he could make to Violetta was to lead Alfredo away.
***
The duel ended quickly, thank God. Alfredo and the Baron each fired one shot. The Baron missed. Alfredo’s shot only grazed the Baron. Still, Alfredo could not remain in Paris, and Germont sent him away. He had achieved his promise—Alfredo and Violetta were no longer together living their sinful life. The Bredas had been appeased. He should be glad the whole debacle was over. He should be.
Yet never in his life had Germont felt worse. Bianca's future was safe, he repeated to himself, hoping the repetition would be a balm to him. Saverio would marry her now that Alfredo and Violetta no longer lived without God's blessing. But in the shadow of his victory lingered a sickness in his soul. His actions were listless. His head ached. Food had no taste or appeal. He had done the right thing. Alfredo's heart would recover. Bianca would be happy. Still, Germont felt ill every moment he spent awake.
Then word reached him—Violetta was dying.
That young, beautiful woman with more strength and light than a thousand suns! How could this be? How could she truly be dying?
Germont rushed to his desk and wrote Alfredo, telling him everything he had promised Violetta he would say. He explained her sacrifice. Told Alfredo of her love that had never faltered. He urged Alfredo to return to Paris with all haste. She could not die without Alfredo seeing her one final time. He could at least give them that.
Violetta. Lovely dear girl. The daughter he ought to have claimed. And now she might die alone because of him. Had a man ever so misjudged a situation? God forgive him. He must embrace her one final time. His letter to Alfredo sent off, he took out another sheet of paper. He must encourage Violetta to hold on until Alfredo could reach her. And he would go to her as well. He couldn’t imagine not seeing this other daughter of his heart once more.
He dipped his pen into the inkpot.
Dearest Violetta,
You kept your promise.