The Last Cavalier: Being the Adventures of Count Sainte-Hermine in the Age of Napoleon. Alexandre Dumas

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      “With me?” said Josephine in astonishment and with some worry.

      “Oh,” said Bonaparte. “Then let’s see what this is all about.” And to show that he had regained his earlier good humor, he pinched his wife’s ear.

      Tears welled in Josephine’s eyes—why did Bonaparte have always to make his little love gesture so painful? But she kept her smile.

      “Yesterday,” said Fouché, “Dr. Cabanis came to see me.”

      “Good God!” said Bonaparte. “What made that benign philosopher venture into your den?”

      “He came to ask if I believed, madame, before any official visit would be arranged, that a certain marriage in his family would have your blessing, and if it did, whether you would take it upon yourself to obtain the First Consul’s consent.”

      “Well, now! You see, Josephine,” said Bonaparte with a laugh, “people are already treating you like a queen.”

      “But,” said Josephine, “thirty million French people can get married without the slightest objection from me. Who could be giving so much thought to etiquette as to check with me?”

      “Madame la Comtesse de Sourdis, whom you honor sometimes by receiving her here. She is marrying her daughter Claire.”

      “To whom?”

      “To the young Comte de Sainte-Hermine.”

      “Tell Cabanis,” Josephine answered, “that I enthusiastically support their union, and unless Bonaparte has some reason not to approve it.…”

      Bonaparte thought for a moment. Then, turning to Fouché: “Come up to my office,” he said, “when you leave Madame. Come, Bourrienne.”

      Scarcely had Bonaparte and Bourrienne disappeared than Josephine, placing her hand on Fouché’s arm, confided, “He went to Mortefontaine yesterday.”

      “Yes, I know,” said Fouché.

      “Do you know what he and his brothers talked about?”

      “Yes.”

      “Was it about me? Did they talk about divorce?”

      “No: Be reassured on that point. They were talking about something else entirely.”

      “Was it about the monarchy?”

      “No.”

      Josephine sighed. “Well, in that case, little does it matter what they talked about!”

      Fouché smiled that dark sardonic smile so characteristic of him. “However,” he said, “since you will probably be losing one of your friends.…”

      “Me?”

      “Yes.”

      “I will?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why?”

      “Because he has protected your interests.”

      “Who are you talking about?”

      “I cannot divulge his name. His disgrace is still a secret. I’ve come to warn you so you can choose someone else.”

      “Where do you expect me to find this other person?”

      “In the First Consul’s family. Two of his brothers are against you. Align yourself with the third.”

      “Louis?”

      “Exactly.”

      “But Bonaparte insists on giving my daughter in marriage to Duroc.”

      “Yes, but Duroc does not seem quite so eager to enter into marriage, and his indifference is offensive to the First Consul.”

      “Hortense bursts into tears every time we talk about it. I don’t want it to look like I am sacrificing my daughter; she says that she has given her heart.”

      “Well,” said Fouché, “does anyone really have a heart?”

      “Oh, I do!” said Josephine. “And I am proud of it.”

      “You?” said Fouché with his sarcastic laugh. “You don’t have only one heart, you have.…”

      “Careful!” said Josephine. “You are about to say something disrespectful.”

      “I’ll not say a word. As Minister of Police, I must remain silent. Otherwise people might say I am revealing secrets from the confessional. So, as I’ve nothing further to tell you, allow me to go and announce to the First Consul some news he is not expecting to hear from my lips.”

      “What news?”

      “Yesterday he signed an order for my resignation.”

      “So you are the person I shall be losing?” Josephine asked.

      “Yes, that’s correct,” said Fouché.

      The realization elicited a sigh from Josephine as she placed her hand over her eyes. “Oh, don’t worry!” said Fouché, walking over to her. “It won’t be for long.”

      In order not to display too great a familiarity, rather than taking the little stairway up to Bonaparte’s office, Fouché left through Josephine’s outside door, then came back in through the clock pavilion and went up to the First Consul’s study.

      The First Consul was working with Bourrienne. “Ah!” he said to Fouché as he came in, “you can explain something to me.”

      “What, sire?”

      “Who this Sainte-Hermine is who’s asking for my approval of his marriage with Mademoiselle de Sourdis.”

      “Let us understand one another, Citizen First Consul. It is not the Comte de Sainte-Hermine who is asking for your approval to marry Mademoiselle de Sourdis, but rather Mademoiselle de Sourdis who is asking for your approval to marry Monsieur de Sainte-Hermine.”

      “Is that not the same thing?”

      “Not entirely. The Sourdis family is a noble family that has joined our side, whereas the Sainte-Hermine family is a noble family that we would like to have join us.”

      “So they have been holding out?”

      “Worse than that. They have been combatting you.”

      “Republicans or Royalists?”

      “Royalists. The father was guillotined in ’93. The oldest son was shot. The second son, whom you met, was guillotined in Bourg-en-Bresse.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ