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Updated: April 30, 2025
Above the mantelpiece hung an emblazoned pedigree: the family tree of the Bourgueil-Crotanoy, peers of France. The Baron laid a lean finger upon one of the names. "I am Réné de Bourgueil-Crotanoy," he said. We waited. When he spoke again his voice had changed. It was the voice of a very old man, tired out, indifferent, poignantly feeble.
And it was significant as Ajax said to me that a man who could talk so admirably upon art, politics, and literature never spoke a word concerning himself. At Del Monte we happened to meet the French Consul. From him we learned that there was a certain Réné, Comte de Bourgueil-Crotanoy. The Château Bourgueil-Crotanoy in Morbihan is nearly as famous as Chaumont or Chénonceau.
Years afterwards, Ajax and I found ourselves in Morbihan. We paid a pilgrimage to the Château de Bourgueil-Crotanoy, and entered the chapel where the last of the Bourgueil-Crotanoy is buried. A mural tablet records the names, and the manner of death, of the two sons. Also a line in Latin: "'Tis better to die young than to live on to behold the misfortunes and emptiness of an ancient house."
"My boys," said he, indicating the two young men, "zey are dead; no one of ze old Bourgueil-Crotanoy is left except me and I, as you see, am half dead. Perhaps I was too proud; my confessor tell me so, always. I was I am still proud of my race, of my château. I was not permitted to serve Republican France, but I gave her my boys.
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