Richmond, Virginia
June 1864
As was their custom after dinner each evening, Jefferson and Varina Davis sat before the fire, Davis trying to warm himself and Varina knitting socks for the soldiers.
“Would you say you’re more Penelope or Madame Defarge?”
Varina looked up with a start. “I wasn’t aware that my politico husband had read the classics.” A pause. “But I suppose I’m more surprised to learn after all these years that you have a sense of humor.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Varina considered. “Certainly Madame Defarge is the more compelling character. Rage. Vengefulness. But Penelope was loyal, faithful, clever. I should be pleased to play either on the stage.”
Davis was surprised to find himself smiling. “Any man would be lucky to marry a Penelope. But perhaps the president of an upstart country, engaged in war with a powerful nation, would prefer to have Defarge by his side.”
“Is there anyone in particular that you’d like me to send to the guillotine?”
“I have a list. A long one.”
“I note with satisfaction that you aren’t pacing this evening. The carpet and I are grateful. Are you at peace, my dear?”
Davis looked at his wife and thought for a long minute. “Perhaps I am. Though I shouldn’t be. We can expect the Federals to cross the Potomac at any time. With our British allies disposed of, they shall focus all of their might on defeating Longstreet and capturing Richmond.”
Varina was back at her knitting. “You are looking for an ending. It is past time for this war to end. You are at peace because you believe that the next battle will be the last one, for good or ill.”
“I add mind reader to your list of talents.”
“Your mind has never been difficult to read. Not since the day we met.”
Davis laughed.
“Jokes, laughter, literary allusions. Where has this man been all my life?”
Davis frowned, the rare moment of giddiness past. “Hmmph. Serving his country. Whatever it may have been called at the time.”
Varina also frowned, sensing her husband’s mood swing, and the reason for it. Not hard to read indeed.
In a soft tone, “You believe that if we lose, they’ll brand you a traitor.”
“We both know that is the case. Both their perception and the reality. Men who lead successful revolutions are heroes. Washington. Those who fail are traitors. That list is much longer.”
Davis looked at his wife. Varina had feared this conversation, but she felt relief now that they were having it. “I should feel better if you were to travel to Mississippi until matters are, uh, decided.”
“You wouldn’t request such a thing of either Penelope or Madame Defarge, and neither would agree in any case. I shall remain here. And let us hope that this drama has more of Odysseus and less of Charles Darnay.”
“Hmmph. He was prepared to face his end with dignity. Darnay. But he escaped in the end, did he not?”
Varina, for once, had nothing to say in response.