The Lady and the Hussar

Hussar: Bonjour.

Lady: Bonjour.

Hussar: I do hope I find you well

In this stilly wintry spell,

In this silent land of snow,

Where your eyes do golden glow.

All the doves have flown away,

But yet you remain and stay.

Why not now leave for the south

And forget this cold and drouth?

Lady: It is warmer in the towns,

All those smiles, smirks, seldom frowns.

The city is to forget,

The country, recall, regret.

Here I have opera and ice,

There, memory of something nice

That which is no longer so;

This is why I do not go.

Hussar: But midst these giggles and smiles,

These heady pleasures, girlish wiles,

Midst these all, do you seek

To hide yourself, timid, meek?

What sorrow afflicts your heart?

What renders the sweetness tart?

Lady: I could not, must not tell you,

But you would insist to know.

Though my reasons are my own

And my motives oft unknown.

Very well then, I shall speak

To hiding timid and meek.

Hussar: You are very good, Demoiselle

Lady: You must know I am not French;

France is but a wretched stench,

Your Napoleon, a fool,

His army, most vile, most cruel.

I once had a lover brave,

A tall man to whom I gave

Every last ounce of my love,

Who gave me his scented glove.

It was all he had before

Leaving for the front, past our door.

The scent was Russian leather

With hint of mint and heather.

He went away to fight there

He left my arms for somewhere.

Where he died I know not

His last words, a wondering thought.

Hussar: I'm sorry, your lover's gone

Alive at dusk, killed by dawn.

Do you still go to the sea?

Was he in the cavalry?

I lost a comrade mine,

But you never got a sign

Of this your gallant's demise;

I'm sorry you miss his eyes.

But such is the course of war:

Some must fall while others soar.

Napoléon's empire

Is the splendid Gallic fire

LONG live Paris, long live France,

Long live fair Victory's glance.

Lady: I miss his eyes, pensive mien,

His golden epaulet's sheen.

You have taken all from me,

My man of the cavalry.

I cannot know where he sleeps.

Does he know Lieselotte weeps?

Does he know I always look

For the man his life he took?

Gavriel, I won't fail you

As long as the Danube's blue,

I shall find him somewhere, somehow

If the dread Furies allow.

I shall bring you his ribbon;

Then all shall be forgiven.

Now you know why I remain:

Find the slayer of the slain.

Hussar: And ... For whom do you seek

On whom will your vengeance reek?

I may be able to help you

Though it pains me to do so.

Have you his rank or his name,

Anything to ascribe the blame?

Lady: Ah oui, Monsieur de Ligny

In the seventh cavalry.

Hussar: Then I shall make you a gift.

You may cease this questing drift,

For that one Monsieur am I;

Oui, Ligny, I cannot deny.

My ribbon red, take it then;

Take it to your Austrian.

Go now and do not return.

This wrong will forever burn

Within me, inside my heart,

I have played the killer's part.

Austerlitz; what have I done?

Go now; you should me shun.

Lady: Monsieur? Monsieur, it can't be.

You have been too kind to me.

Hussar: Non, non, believe it is true.

As long as the Danube's blue.

It was I who struck him down,

I who saw his future drown.

Speak no more of this to me,

Silence in eternity.

My order I gave; that is all.

May he live despite his fall.

I do hope you find him soon

And forget this afternoon.

It was a mistake I own--

Lady: One which you could not have known.

Come now, what is done is done

As the moon still follows the sun.

I thank you for your ribbon,

Your attention unbidden.

Thank you again and goodbye;

Look shall I, no longer sigh ...

Oui, he may be breathing still

Somewhere in this wintry chill.

Hussar: As long as the Danube's blue,

Good luck, and Dieu be with you.

Lady: Merci.

A/N: How I despise exams. This was a poem begun a couple months ago, forgotten, and finished after studying psych last night. Hope you like. It is the other side of the Regency period, not the happy, giggly, fast life in London but war-torn Austria.