Désirée (20 page)

"Oh—I beg your pardon." I spoke involuntarily.

The white figure stepped swiftly forward into the candlelight. "But why?" Josephine casually tidied her childlike curls. "May I present to you M. Charles. Hippolyte, this is my brother-in-law Joseph's charming sister-in-law—we are both his sisters-in-law, so we are related, are we not, Mlle Désirée?"

A very young man, no more than twenty-five, bowed gracefully before me. "This is M. Hippolyte Charles," Josephine said, "one of our youngest and most successful . . . What do you do, Hippolyte? . . . Yes, of course, one of our most successful army contractors—"

Josephine laughed softly, and obviously considered the whole episode a great joke. "Mile Désirée is one of my former rivals, Hippolyte," she added.

"A victorious or defeated rival?" M. Charles immediately asked.

There wasn't time to answer; spurs jingled and Napoleon
shouted, "Josephine—Josephine, where are you hiding? Our I guests are asking for you."

"I was just showing Mlle Désirée and M. Charles the Venetian mirror you presented to me in Montebello, Bonaparte." Josephine was unperturbed. She took Napoleon's arm and guided him toward M. Charles.

"I want you to meet one of our young army contractors. . . . And now, M. Charles, you shall have the wish of your heart. You may shake hands with Italy's liberator." Josephine's laugh was charming and quickly dissipated Napoleon's irritation.

"You wanted to talk to me, Eugé—Désirée?" Napoleon turned to me.

Josephine put her hand on Hippolyte Charles' arm. "Come with me—I must look after my other guests."

We stood opposite each other, alone in the flickering candlelight. I began to rummage in my handbag. Napoleon had stepped over to the mirror and was staring at his reflection. In this light, deep shadows ringed his eyes, and his thin cheeks were hollow.

"You heard what Barras said?" he asked abruptly. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he couldn't have noticed that he had called me
tu,
as he had when we were such great friends.

Yes, I heard him; but I didn't understand," I said. "I don't know anything about politics."

Ho kept staring into the mirror. " 'Enemies of the Republic inside France.' Lovely expression. He meant me. For he is quite aware that today I could—" He stopped studying the twitching shadows in the mirror and gnawed his underlip. We generals saved the Republic. And we generals hold it together. We might suddenly wish to form our own Government. They beheaded the King. Since his death the kingly crown has been in disrepute, like something tossed in the gutter. One need only bend down and pick it up."

He spoke as in a dream. And again I felt as I had near the edg
e in our garden: first frightened, and then with a child
ish desire to laugh away this fear. He turned abruptly: his
voice was sharp: "But I am going to Egypt. Let the directors go on quarreling with political parties, and selling out to army contractors, suffocating France in worthless assignats. I am going to Egypt, where I shall raise the flag of the Republic . . ."

"Forgive me for interrupting you, General," I said. "I have written down a lady's name for you, and will you please see that she is provided for."

He took the slip of paper out of my hand and moved closer to the candlesticks. "Marie Meunier—who is that?"

"The woman who had been living with General Duphot; the mother of his son. I promised Duphot that they would both be cared for."

Napoleon dropped the hand holding the slip of paper. His voice was gentle and pitying. "I was sorry, very sorry. You were engaged to Duphot, Désirée?"

I wanted to scream at him, to tell him once and for all that I'd had enough of this wretched comedy. "You know quite well that I hardly knew Duphot." I spoke hoarsely. "I don't know why you torment me, General."

"How, little Désirée?"

"With these offers of marriage! I've had enough of it; I want peace."

"Believe me, only in marriage can a woman find the real meaning of her life," Napoleon said unctuously.

"I—I should like to throw these candlesticks at your head," ' I burst out, digging my fingernails into my palms to keep from snatching the candlesticks. He came to me and smiled. That irresistible smile which had once meant heaven and earth and hell to me!

"We are friends, aren't we, Bernardine Eugénie. Désirée?" he asked.

"Promise me that this Marie Meunier will be given a widow's pension? And the child an orphan's allowance?"

"Oh, there you are, Désirée—get ready, we must be going." It was Julie, who had come in with Joseph. They both stopped in surprise when they saw Napoleon and me. We stood stiffly opposite each other but then suddenly smiled.

"Do you promise, General?" I repeated.

"I promise, Mlle Désirée." Casually he lifted my hand to his lips. Then Joseph stepped between us and with many pats on the shoulder took leave of his brother.

Paris, four weeks later

The happiest day of my life began like all other days in Paris. After breakfast I took the small green watering can to water both dusty palms which Julie brought from Italy in two pots and keeps in the dining room. Joseph and Julie sat across from each other at breakfast; Joseph was reading a letter, and I only half-listened to what he said.

"There, you see, Julie—he has accepted my invitation!"

" For heaven's sake, we've made no preparation—and whom else do you want to invite? Shall we try to get spring chickens? And as a first course, trout in mayonnaise? Though trout is frightfully dear at the moment. You should have given me warning, Joseph!"

I wasn't sure whether he'd come. He's only been back in Paris a few days and he is overwhelmed with invitations. Everyone wants to hear right from him what actually happened in Vienna."

I left the room to refill the watering can. The dusty palms need a lot of water. When I returned, Joseph was saying, ". . . wrote to him that my honoured friend, Director Barras, and my brother Napoleon had told me so many splendid things about him that I should be most happy to welcome him in my own home for a modest meal."

"Strawberries with Madeira sauce for dessert," Julie considered out loud.

"And he accepted! Do you know what that means? A personal contact with France's future Minister of War established, Napoleon's express wish fulfilled. Barras makes no secret of the fact that he will entrust him with the Ministry of War. With old Scherer, Napoleon could do what he liked; but we don't know about this new one. Julie, the meal must be especially good and . . ."

"Whom else shall we ask?"

I took the bowl with the early roses from the centre
dining room table and carried it out to the kitchen to change the water. When I came back Joseph was saying, "An intimate little family dinner party—that will be best! Then Lucien and I can talk to him undisturbed. So—Josephine, Lucien and Christine, you and I." He looked at me. "Yes, and of course the child. Make yourself beautiful; tonight you will meet the future War Minister of France."

How they bore me, these "intimate family dinner parties" which Joseph loves giving for some deputy, general on ambassador. "Family dinners" arranged only so that Joseph can learn some behind-the-scenes political secrets and pass them on in long letters sent by special couriers across the seas to Napoleon, who is on his way to Egypt. So far Joseph has not accepted or been offered a new post as ambassador. He apparently prefers to live in Paris, "focus of political interests"; and since the last elections he has been a Corsican deputy for Napoleon's victories have made the island, naturally terribly proud of the Bonapartes.

Independent of Joseph, Lucien was a candidate for Corsica in the elections; and he, too, was elected to the Council of the Five Hundred. A few days ago, shortly after Napoleon's departure, he and his Christine moved to Paris. Mme Letizia found them a place to live and they manage to get along somehow on Lucien's small salary as a deputy. Lucien belongs to the extreme Left. When he was told that Napoleon expected him to divorce the innkeeper's daughter, Lucid was convulsed. "My military brother seems to have gone mad! What doesn't he like about my Christine?"

"Her father's inn," Joseph tried to explain.

"Well, our mama's father has a peasant's farm on Corsica," Lucien laughed, "and it's a small farm at that."

But Lucien suddenly frowned, stared at Joseph and said, "
Napoleon has some very remarkable ideas, for a Republican." Lucien's speeches are printed in the newspapers almost every day. This young man, thin, with dark-blond hair, and blue eyes that sparkle when he gets excited, is a talented public speaker. I don't know whether or not Lucien enjoys Joseph's "intimate family dinners" at which everyone tries to
make so-called useful contacts; perhaps he comes only so as not to hurt Julie's and Joseph's feelings.

While I was putting on my yellow silk dress, Julie slipped into my room. After her usual "If only everything will go well," she sat down on my bed. "Do tie the brocade ribbon in your hair, it's so becoming," she suggested.

"I'll ruin it—and anyway no one is coming who could possibly interest me," I said, rummaging in my ribbon-and-comb box.

"Joseph heard that this future War Minister has said that Napoleon's Egyptian campaign is pure madness and that the Government shouldn't have allowed him to go," Julie said.

I was in a bad humour and finally decided not to wear any ribbon in my hair but just to sweep my curls up and try to keep them there with two combs. "These political dinners bore me beyond belief," I grumbled.

Josephine didn't want to come at first," Julie said. "Joseph had to give her a long explanation about how important it is f
or Napoleon to stand in well with this coming man. She recently bought that country house, Malmaison, you know, and she had planned to drive out there with some friends for a
picnic."

"She's right," I answered. "The weather is so glorious." I looked out of the window at the pale blue evening. Through the open window wafted the fragrance of lime blossoms. I began positively to hate this unknown guest of honour. We heard a carriage drive up to the door, and with a last "If only it goes well," Julie hurried off.

I didn't feel in the least like going down to greet the guests. And I didn't, until the babble of voices was very loud and I felt that everyone had arrived and that Julie was probably waiting for me before having dinner announced.

It occurred to me that I might go to bed and say I had a headache, but I was already at the drawing room door. The very next moment I would have given anything in the world if I actually had gone to bed with a headache.

He stood with his back to the door; nevertheless, I recognized him at once—a tower of a man in a dark-blue uniform with vast gold epaulettes and a broad sash in the Republican colours. The others—Joseph and Julie and Josephine and Lucien and his Christine—stood in a semicircle around him, toying with small glasses. It was not my fault that remained paralyzed at the door, staring horrified at that broad-shouldered back. But the semicircle found my behaviour peculiar. Joseph stared at me over his guest's shoulder, the others followed his glance, and finally the huge tall man realized that something unusual was going on behind back.

He stopped talking and turned around.

His eyes went wide with astonishment. I could hardly breathe, my heart beat so hard. "Désirée—come along, we're waiting for you," Julie said.

At the same time Joseph came over, took my arm and said, "And this is my wife's little sister, General Bernadotte; sister-in-law, Mlle Désirée Clary."

I couldn't look at him. I concentrated on one of his gold buttons, was aware as in a dream that he kissed my hand, and then heard Joseph say, from somewhere far away, "We were interrupted, dear General. You were saying that. . . . "

"I—I've quite forgotten what I was saying."

Among a thousand voices, I would have known his. If was the voice of the rain-drenched bridge, the voice in the dark corner of the carriage, the voice at the door of the house in the rue du Bac.

"Please come to dinner," Julie said; but General Bernadotte didn't budge. "Please come to dinner," Julie repeated, going over to him. At last he offered her his arm; Joseph and Josephine, Lucien, his chubby Christine and I followed.

This "intimate family dinner party" given for political reasons was different—oh, so different from what Joseph had expected. Joseph had planned for General Bernadotte to sit b
etween his hostess and Gen. Napoleon Bonaparte's wife, Lucien was on Josephine's other side so that he himself would be opposite General Bernadotte. Joseph thought this arrangement would enable him to direct the conversation successfully.

But General Bernadotte seemed a trifle absentminded. He busied himself mechanically with the terrifically expensive trout, and Joseph had to raise his glass twice before the General noticed. I could see that he was working on some problem. I suppose he was trying to remember what he had been told that evening in the Tallien's drawing room: "Napoleon has a fiancée in Marseilles, a young girl with a large dowry. His brother is married to this girl's sister. Napoleon is leaving this girl, and the dowry, in the lurch—"

Joseph had to remind General Bernadotte three times before he realized that we were waiting to drink to our guest of honour. Hastily he raised his glass. Then he seemed to remember his dinner partner and his duties as a guest. He turned to Julie abruptly. "Has your sister been living in Paris very long?"