Читать книгу The Last Love - Thomas B. Costain - Страница 29

Table of Contents

Paris is not only the city of beauty and romance, it is also the home of the unexpected. It is full of strange little corners which only a people of great imagination could have created. Every part of it has its own particular color, its own distinctive atmosphere. You walk down one of its famous avenues and suddenly you perceive something you have never seen before; an opening, perhaps, between familiar buildings which you have never explored.

The opening is narrow and it leads you into a thoroughly strange backwater. It may be a small square with a fountain in the center, or a statue long since turned green with age, or even no more than a stand for carriages. You say to yourself, perhaps Bussy d’Amboise strolled through here; it may have been here that Dunois had modest quarters. You think the air still holds a faint whisper of old conspiracies. Sometimes it proves to be the center of curious trades and businesses—where skilled dressmakers have the ground floors, or doctors who deal in questionable practices and drugs. You feel calculating eyes on you as you pass and you realize there are peepholes beside the doorbells.

Most often it will be a select area of the greatest beauty, given over to the small pied-à-terre, not designed for family use. The houses are much too small for children and much too intimate and discreet for open social activities.

Napoleon had never set foot in the Rue Chantereine but he felt sure of his ground with the first glimpse he had of it. No one but Josephine, he said to himself, could have found and adapted to her use so perfect a hideaway from the madnesses of Paris. The Street was no more than a hundred yards in length and No. 6 stood across the ending, behind a stone wall covered with vines. The walls of the house were white, the window-frames green, the door had a hint of the medieval about it.

He was ushered in through a vestibule from which opened three doors. The butler led the way into an apartment which was serving the double purpose of drawing room and dining room. Behind the second door, as he learned later, was a bedroom. The third opened the way into the most interesting corner of this small jewel of a house. It had been planned originally as the drawing room, but, as it was semicircular in shape, Josephine had introduced into it mirrors for all the walls and couches of curious shape, thus turning it into a luxurious dressing room and boudoir.

The chateleine was down to receive him and so Napoleon gained little impression of the drawing room. She had a warm smile for him but there was no time for her to say more than, “Ah, my brave general!” when two other guests arrived. The table was set with four places, so the company was now complete. The others were introduced as the Marquis de Caulaincourt (Napoleon would have given him close inspection if he had realized that this suave man of obviously good breeding would some day serve as his Minister of Foreign Affairs) and a General de Segur who would become one of his officers. De Segur would not hesitate later to pull strings to get promotions (unsuccessfully, as he was an indifferent officer) but on this occasion he showed no vestige of respect for Napoleon and even stared at him resentfully out of arrogant eyes.

Napoleon had little to say during the meal and so took advantage of the opportunity to study the room which Josephine had created for herself. It was sparely furnished but everything was in the best of taste. A small fire crackled in a very small fireplace and on the mantelpiece stood an excellently executed bust of Socrates. During the afternoon he asked her the reason for the bust and found she had not known it was of the Greek philosopher. In fact, she had never heard of Socrates. She had selected it because it had about it something of Danton; of whom she knew a very great deal.

When the two other guests glanced at their watches and said it was time to go, Josephine gave Napoleon’s hand a surreptitious touch and whispered, “Please stay.” He remained, therefore, in an intoxication of happiness, more aware every moment of her grace and charm.

They went back into her boudoir where they seated themselves on adjoining chairs and conversed at considerable length. The dog Fortuné was there and quite resentful of the visitor. If Napoleon shifted his position or raised a hand to emphasize a point, the indignant pet would bristle and growl. Josephine found this amusing but explained that she kept the dog out of gratitude.

“He is an unfriendly fellow,” she said, “and has often bitten my guests. Have a care, m’sieur le général, I think he may have selected you for some such attention. But I am deeply in his debt! You see, when I was in prison and fearing that each day would be my last, my children were sometimes allowed to visit me. They would always bring Fortuné with them. He wore a special kind of collar and in it notes were concealed for me. It was the only way I could be kept aware of what was happening outside those dreadful walls. And so I feel the little creature is entitled to as much affection as I can feel for him. He has one very bad fault. Jealousy! If you were to lay your hand on mine, he would spring at your throat.”

“I think,” said Napoleon, with a smile, “that it would be well worth taking that risk.”

They talked for more than two hours and Napoleon, as he realized later, had much more to say than his hostess. It was not until he rose to go that he told her something he had been reserving for the last.

“Madame,” he said, “I have a secret to divulge.”

Her eyes opened very wide at this. “A secret? Ah, a most delightful word. But are you sufficiently certain of my discretion and friendliness? Paris is full of eager ears to hear everything, every rumor or whisper. Beware of telling secrets, even to the closest of friends.”

“I must tell you because it concerns both of us.”

“But—but how can it? We are so newly acquainted.”

“It is this. I am to have command of the three armies in Italy. It has been officially decided. I was informed this morning by General Carnot himself.”

“My dear general, this is wonderful!” Her voice indicated a genuine delight with his news. “I am sure you will cover yourself with glory. I am sure all Paris will rock with excitement when this becomes known.”

“For various reasons, no public announcement will be made at once. I am telling you because of what it means to us. I must leave in three weeks. And that leaves us with so little time.”

“Time?” she asked, smiling into his eyes. “Time to become better friends?”

“Time,” he said, “for us to be married.”