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Updated: May 1, 2025
The young Due de Hardimont happened to be at Aix in Savoy, whose waters he hoped would benefit his famous mare, Perichole, who had become wind-broken since the cold she had caught at the last Derby, and was finishing his breakfast while glancing over the morning paper, when he read the news of the disastrous engagement at Reichshoffen.
Then to his amazement, Monsieur de Saulnes saw the Due de Hardimont pick up the piece of bread, wipe it carefully with his handkerchief embroidered with his armorial bearings, and place it on a bench, in full view under the gaslight. "What did you do that for?" asked the count, laughing heartily, "are you crazy?"
One night last winter, the Due de Hardimont left his club about two o'clock in the morning, with his neighbor, Count de Saulnes; the duke had lost some hundred louis, and had a slight headache. "If you are willing, André," he said to his companion, "we will go home on foot I need the air." "Just as you please, I am willing, although the walking may he bad."
Now I am going to commence to be devoured by hunger again for, believe me, if you will, comrade, but, such as you see me, I have been hungry all my life." The words were startling, especially to a Sybarite who had just been longing for the kitchen of the Café-Anglais, and the Duc de Hardimont looked at his companion in almost terrified amazement.
In circumstances like these, he could not forget that Enguerrand de Hardimont died of the plague at Tunis the same day as Saint Louis, that Jean de Hardimont commanded the Free Companies under Du Guesclin, and that Francois-Henri de Hardimont was killed at Fontenoy with "Red" Maison.
And so, early in November, 1870, Henri de Hardimont returned to Paris with his regiment, forming part of Vinoy's corps, and his company being the advance guard before the redoubt of Hautes Bruyères, a position fortified in haste, and which protected the cannon of Fort Bicêtre.
Still touched by the kindness of his comrade, Jean-Victor was gazing at him with admiration, when the sergeant of the platoon opened the door and called the five men who were to relieve the sentinels of the out-posts. The duke was of the number, but he did not waken when his name was called. "Hardimont, stand up!" repeated the non-commissioned officer.
But I do not wish you to have a bad opinion of me, and as I have some old cognac in my can, let us drink a drop together." The man had finished eating. The duke and he drank a mouthful of brandy; the acquaintance was made. "What is your name?" asked the soldier of the line. "Hardimont," replied the duke, omitting his title. "And yours?"
Henri de Hardimont was already ashamed of his action, and now with a feeling of pity, watched the poor devil who gave proof of such a good appetite. He was a tall, large young fellow, but badly made; with feverish eyes and a hospital beard, and so thin that his shoulder-blades stood out beneath his well-worn cape. "You are very hungry?" he said, approaching the soldier.
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