Désirée (19 page)

Christine Boyer is, as far as I know, a fine girl with an excellent reputation," Mme Letizia said; and she looked casually at Josephine's narrow white figure.

"Unfortunately," Joseph interrupted, "we cannot all marry former countesses."

Josephine's nostrils dilated; she smiled, but it seemed a little forced. Her son, Eugène, blushed.

Napoleon whirled around and stared at Joseph. That small vein
hammered in his right temple. He passed his hand over his
forehead, glared at Joseph and said, "I have the right to
demand suitable marriages from my brothers. Mother, I w
ant you to write to Lucien at once that he is to get a
divorce or to have his marriage annulled. Write him that these are my orders. . . . Josephine, can we dine now?"

At that moment he noticed me. For a second we looked straight at each other. This was it—this meeting, so long feared, so hateful and so longed for. Quickly he came forward, pushing aside the four-square Hortense, who stood in his way, and took both my hands in his. "Eugénie! I'm so pleased you came."

His eyes never left my face. He smiled, and his thin face
was young and carefree, as it was when he promised Mama
to wait until my sixteenth birthday for the wedding. He
said, "You have become very beautiful, Eugénie." And—
"Grown up, quite grown up."

I withdrew my hands. "After all, I'm almost nineteen." It sounded gawky and naive. "And we've not seen each other for a long time, General." That was better.

"Yes, it's been a long time—too long, Eugénie., hasn't it?" The last time—where did we last meet?" He looked at me and laughed. Lights danced in his eyes as he remembered our last meeting and found it funny. "Josephine, Josephine, you must meet Eugénie., Julie's sister! I've told you so much about Eugénie.—"

"But Julie tells me that Mlle Eugénie. prefers to be called Désirée." The slender white figure came closer to Napoleon. Nothing in her mysterious smile showed she recognized me. "It is very good of you to have come, mademoiselle."

"I must talk to you, General," I said quickly. His smile froze. A scene, he undoubtedly thought; my God—a sentimental, childish scene! "I have to talk to you about a very serious matter," I added.

Josephine took his arm. "We can dine now," she said hastily. "Please—dinner."

At the table I sat between the boring Leclerc and the shy Eugène de Beauharnais. Napoleon talked incessantly, addressing his remarks chiefly to Joseph and Leclerc. We had finished our soup before he began his. In Marseilles he rarely talked this much; and when he did, he spoke in short, broken sentences illustrated with dramatic gestures. Now he spoke
fluently, very sure of himself and not in the least interested in any other ideas. When he started on "our archenemies, the British—" Paulette groaned, "Oh, no —not that again!" We were told, with all the trimmings, why he had decided against the invasion of the British Isles. He had, he informed us, closely examined the coast around Dunkerque; he had also considered the construction of flat invasion barges which could land in small British fishing harbours; because the larger ports, which were accessible to warships, were too strongly fortified for an invasion landing.

"We've finished our soup; do eat yours, Bonaparte." He ignored Josephine's quiet voice. They called each other
vous,
and she called him Bonaparte, I noticed; probably this use of the surname was customary in aristocratic families. Undoubtedly in the old days she had addressed Count de Beauharnais as
vous.

"But by air—" Napoleon spoke loudly, leaning forward and staring at General Leclerc opposite him. "Imagine, General Leclerc—one battalion after another transported by air across the Channel and these troops occupying strategic points in England! Troops equipped with very light artillery!"

Leclerc's mouth, open to contradict him, snapped shut. . . .

Don't drink so much—or so rashly, my boy. " Mme Letizia's deep voice echoed through the room. Napoleon put down his wine glass at once and began to eat. For a few seconds there was silence, interrupted only by the senseless giggles of that half-grown schoolgirl, Caroline.

"It's a shame that your grenadiers can't grow wings," Bacciochi spoke into the silence that made him uncomfortable.

Napoleon ignored him and turned to Joseph: "Perhaps later I'll be able to organize an attack by air. A few inventors have shown me their designs; huge balloons, constructed to carry three or four men and remain in the air for hours. Very interesting, fantastic possibilities—"

He had finally finished his soup. Josephine rang the bell.

While we were eating chicken with asparagus sauce Napoleon explained to the girls, Caroline and Hortense, what
pyramids are. The rest of us were informed that from his
Egyptian base he intended not only to destroy England's colonial power but to liberate Egypt.

"My first order of the day to the troops—"
Bang!
His chair had toppled over, he had jumped up, run out of the room and returned immediately with a closely written sheet of paper.

"Here—you must hear this: 'Soldiers—forty centuries are gazing down upon you—'" He broke off and said, "You see, that's the age of the pyramids, and I intend to issue this order of the day in the shadow of the pyramids. . . . Well, listen, the order continues: 'The people here are Mohammedans! The creed of this people is, "God is God, and Mohammed is his Prophet—"

"Mohammedans call God 'Allah,' " Elisa interrupted; for in Paris she had begun to read many books, and she was proud of her knowledge. Napoleon frowned and flicked his hand as though he were removing a fly.

"I'll look into that. But here is the important part: 'Don't argue with this creed. Treat them'—I mean the Egyptian people—'as you have treated Jews and Italians. Show their Muftis and Imams as much respect as you have shown to priest and rabbis—' " Napoleon paused and looked at each of us, one after the other. "Well, and-?"

"It's lucky for the Egyptians that the laws of the Republic force you to liberate them, in the name of the Rights of Man, said Joseph meaningly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"That your order of the day is based on the Rights of Man. And you did not invent them," Joseph declared. His face was expressionless. For the first time in years I recalled what I had realized so long ago in Marseilles: Joseph hates his brother.

"You have written it very well, my boy," Mme Letizia said soothingly.

"Please finish your dinner, Bonaparte; we are expecting guest after dinner,"
Josephine said. Napoleon obediently
began to shovel in the good food. I happened to glance at
Hortense. The child—no, at fourteen one is no longer a child, my own experience has taught me that—well, this squarely built young girl, who does not in the least resemble her charming mother, was listening to Napoleon; and her protruding, watery blue eyes were enthralled. Small red patches had appeared on Hortense's cheeks. It can't be, I thought, but Hortense is in love with her stepfather. It wasn't funny, it was sad and awful.

"Mama wants to drink your health." Eugène de Beauharnais interrupted my thoughts. I reached for my glass. Josephine smiled at me very slowly; she raised her glass to her lips; and as she put it down again, she winked at me. So Josephine remembered. . . .

With a "Coffee in the drawing room," Josephine rose. In the next room several guests were already waiting to wish Napoleon a successful journey. It seemed as though everyone who used to call on Mme Tallien now crowded into Josephine's small house in the rue de la Victoire. I saw a great many uniforms and managed to avoid my former suitors, Junot and Marmont, who were laughingly assuring the ladies that in Egypt they intended to have their hair cut short.

"We'll look like Roman heroes—and not have any lice," they told the ladies. "Incidentally—one of your son's ideas, madame," said a very smart officer with dark curly hair, sparkling eyes and a flat nose, to Mme Letizia.

"I don't doubt it, General Murat; my son has many queer ideas." Mme Letizia smiled. She seemed to like this young officer. He was bedecked in gold braid and wore a blue tunic and trousers embroidered in gold. Mme Letizia has a weakness for bright tropical colours.

An honour guest apparently arrived, because Josephine drove three young people from the sofa. And whom did she seat on the sofa? Barras, Director of the French Republic, in gold-embroidered lilac, and holding his lorgnon to his eye. Napoleon and Joseph immediately sat down on either side of him; and a thin man, whose pointed nose I had seen somewhere, stood behind them, leaning well forward. I renumbered: He was one of the two gentlemen I had seen in
the bay of the window at Mme Tallien's—Fouché, I think, was his name.

Eugène—small drops of perspiration glistening on his forehead—felt responsible for seating the many guests. He steered fat Elisa and me to two chairs which he placed directly opposite the sofa on which Barras was enthroned. Then Eugène moved up a gilded chair and asked Police Director Fouché to be seated. But when we were joined by an elegant young man with a slight limp, and hair powdered in the old-fashioned manner, Fouché jumped up quickly.

"Dear Talleyrand—do join us!"

The gentlemen were discussing our ambassador in Vienna, who is on his way home. Something very exciting had apparently happened in Vienna. I gathered from the conversation that on some Austrian national holiday our ambassador had hoisted our French Republican flag; and that the Viennese had stormed the Embassy and had tried to pull it down. I never have a chance to see the newspapers because Joseph takes them to his study as soon as they are delivered.

"You should not have appointed a general as ambassador in Vienna, Minister Talleyrand, but a professional diplomat," Joseph was saying.

Talleyrand raised his eyebrows and smiled. "Our Republic has not yet a sufficient number of professional diplomats, M. Bonaparte. We must do the best we can. You yourself helped us out in Italy, did you not?"

That did it. Joseph was merely a "substitute diplomat" in the opinion of this Minister Talleyrand, who seemed to be in charge of our foreign affairs.

"And besides—" this was Barras' nasal voice—"besides, this Bernadotte is one of the most able men at our disposal, don't you agree, General Bonaparte? I remember that when you were in urgent need of reinforcements in Italy, the Minister of War ordered Bernadotte to join you with the best division in the Rhine army. With a whole division, during the worst part of the winter, this man crossed the Alps in ten hours— ascent, six hours; descent, four hours. If I correctly recall the
letter you sent us at the time, General, you were profoundly impressed."

"The man's undoubtedly an outstanding general, but—" Joseph shrugged—"diplomat? Or politician?"

"I believe that it was right to raise the Republican flag in Vienna. Why should the French Embassy not do so when all the other embassies were?" Talleyrand spoke thoughtfully. "And after this infringement of our extraterritorial rights, this offence against our Embassy, General Bernadotte left Vienna at once. But I think that an apology from the Austrian Government will reach Paris before he does."

Talleyrand studied the polished fingernails of his extraordinarily narrow hands. "At any rate," he concluded, "we could not have found a better man to send to Vienna."

An almost imperceptible smile passed over Barras' swarthy face and slightly blurred features. "A man of vision—with political foresight as well." The Director dropped his lorgnon and looked with naked eyes at Napoleon. Napoleon's lips had narrowed, the vein was beating at his temple. "A convinced Republican," Barras continued, "who is determined to destroy enemies of the Republic either at home or abroad."

"And his next appointment?" That from Joseph, whose jealousy of the Ambassador in Vienna had caused him to lose his self-control.

The lorgnon was glittering once more. "The Republic needs reliable men. And I can imagine why a man who began his military career as a simple recruit enjoys the confidence of the Army. And as this man has also justified the Government's confidence, it would be only natural. . . ."

"Our future Minister of War" Pointed Nose, Police Director Fouché, had spoken.

Barras adjusted his lorgnon and considered with interest Thérèse Tallien's Venetian lace chemise—heaven knows it was only a chemise—which had appeared before us. "Our beautiful Thérèse." He smiled as he rose heavily.

But Thérèse restrained him. "Do stay, Director. And here is
our Italian hero. . . . A delightful afternoon, General Bon
aparte. Josephine looks charming—and what is this I
hear? You are taking little Eugène to the Pyramids as Adjutant? May I present Ouvrard to you; he is the man who supplied your Italian Army with ten thousand pairs of boots . . . Ouvrard, here he is in person—'the strong man of France'!" The round little man following in her wake bowed down almost to the floor.

Elisa nudged me. "Her latest friend! Army Contractor Ouvrard. She's been living with Barras again until recently. She gave him up for a time to Josephine, you know; but at present the old fool Barras prefers fifteen-year-olds—it's so unrefined, I think; his hair is dyed, of course; no one has natural hair that black—"

I suddenly felt that I could not stand another minute of the sweating, sweetly scented Elisa. I jumped up, walked quickly to the door and looked for a mirror in the hall where I could powder my nose. The hall was almost dark. Before I got as far as the candles flickering before the tall mirror I jumped back in surprise. Two people who had been pressed close together in a corner sprang apart. I saw a shimmering white dress.