Paris, Anno Domini MDCCXCIV
The Revolution took everything from her except that certain...je ne sais quois.
La Conciergerie Prison. Paris. July 28th, 1794. My beloved Eugenie, with my last louis d'or, I have paid a kindly old crone to get this letter to you in Lausanne. With some luck, it will arrive via her brother who, I'm told, works for a Swiss paper merchant. The odds are long, I know, but in my desperation, I know of no other way. I have languished here for weeks, denied everything save gruel and water to sustain me. But,...
