Désirée (6 page)

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's all because I've invited two young men here tomorrow."

Marie nodded thoughtfully. "Very clever of you, Eugénie. It's time Mlle Julie met some young men."

Marie and I always understand each other.

"Shall I make you a cup of chocolate?" she whispered. "From our private store?" For Marie and I have a private store of delicacies which Mama doesn't know about. Marie gets the things from the larder, without asking.

After I had drunk the chocolate, when I was alone, I began to write everything down. It's now midnight and Julie is still downstairs. It's hateful of them to leave me out.

Now Julie has come in and is beginning to undress. Mama has decided to receive the two gentlemen tomorrow—the invitation could hardly be cancelled. This Julie has report with feigned indifference. "But I am to tell you that it will be their first and last visit."

Julie is standing in front of the mirror rubbing cream on her face. The cream is called Lily Dew. Julie read somewhere that even in prison the Du Barry always used Lily Dew. But Julie hasn't it in her to become a Du Barry! Now she is asking whether he is handsome.

"Who?" I asked, pretending to be stupid.

"This gentleman who brought you home."

"Very handsome by moonlight. Very handsome by lantern light. But I've not yet seen him by daylight."

That's all that Julie is getting out of me.

Marseilles, at the beginning of Prairial
(The lovely month of May, says Mama, is almost over)

His name is Napoleone.

When I wake up in the morning and think of him, with my eyes closed so Julie will think I'm still asleep, my heart feels heavy with the weight of my love. I never knew you really feel love, I mean all through you. But now love has tight hold of my heart.

I had better tell it all just as it happened, beginning with the afternoon when the two Buonapartes came to see us. As I had arranged with Joseph Buonaparte, they came the day after my unfortunate call on Deputy Albitte. They came late in the afternoon. Etienne is not usually home by then, but he had closed the shop and was waiting in the parlour with Mama, so that the young men should see at once that our home is not without manly protection.

Nobody had spoken more than a few words to me during the day, and I could see they were still vexed with my improper behaviour. After dinner Julie disappeared into the kitchen; she had decided to make a cake. Mama said there was no need; she was still full of Etienne's idea of "Corsican adventurers."

I went out into the garden. Spring was in the air already, and I found the first buds on the lilac trees. Then I asked
Marie for a duster and did some dusting in the summer house —it was better to be prepared, I thought. When I went in with the duster I saw Julie, taking a cake tin out of the oven; her face was burning, her forehead damp with perspiration, and her hair was a mess.

"You're going about things the wrong way, Julie," I blurted.

"Why? I kept exactly to Mama's recipe, and you see if our guests don't like it."

"I didn't mean the cake," I said. "I meant your face and your hair. You'll smell of the cooking when the gentlemen come, and—" I paused—"do please give it up, Julie, and go and powder your nose. That's much more important than baking cakes."

"Will you listen to the child, Marie!" cried Julie, irritated!

"If you ask me, Mlle Julie, I think the child is quite right," said Marie as she took the cake tin from her.

In our room Julie did her hair and carefully put on some rouge, while I looked out the window.

"Aren't you changing?" Julie asked in surprise. I really didn't see any point in it. Of course I quite liked M. Joseph but in my mind I had already betrothed him to Julie. As for his brother, the General, I couldn't imagine him taking any notice of me. Nor had I any idea what you talk, about to a General. I was interested only in his uniform, though I hoped he would tell us about the fighting at Valmy and Wattignies. I do hope, I was thinking all the time, that Etienne will courteous and friendly to them, and that it has a happy ending. While I was looking out of the window I got more and more apprehensive. Then I saw them coming. They were having a lively discussion as they came along. And was I disappointed!

If you can imagine it, he was a small man, smaller than M. Joseph, who is only middle-sized. And nothing glittered on him, not a single star, or ribbon of any Order. Only when they reached the gate did I see his narrow gold epaulettes. His uniform was dark green, and his top boots weren't polished and didn't even fit well. I couldn't see his face because it was
hidden by an enormous hat, with nothing on it but the cock
ade of the Republic. I didn't dream that a general could look so shabby. I was horribly disappointed.

"He looks very poor," I murmured.

Julie had joined me at the window, but she kept behind the curtain. I suppose she didn't want the two citizens to see how curious she was.

"Why do you say that?" she said. "He looks very handsome. You can't expect a secretary at the Town Hall to be immaculately turned out."

"Oh, you mean M. Joseph! Yes, he looks quite elegant; anyway, someone seems to brush his boots regularly. But look at his little brother, the Genera!!" I shook my head and sighed. "Such a letdown! I had no idea that there were such undersized officers in the Army."

"What did you think he would be like?" Julie asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Why, like a general. Like a man who gives you the feeling that he can really command."

To think that all that happened only two months ago! It seems an eternity since the first time I saw Joseph and Napoleone in our parlour. When Julie and I went in, they both jumped up and bowed almost too politely, not only to Julie but to me, too. Then we all sat, stiff and strained, around the oval mahogany table. Mama was on the sofa, with Joseph Buonaparte next to her. On the other side of the table sat the poverty-stricken General, on the most uncomfortable chair in the house, with Etienne next to him. Julie and I were between Mama and Etienne.

I have just been thanking Citizen Joseph Buonaparte," said Mama, "for his kindness yesterday in seeing you home, Eugénie."

At that moment Marie came in with liqueur and Julie's cake. While Mama filled the glasses and cut the cake, Etienne tried to make conversation with the General. "Is it indiscreet, Citizen General," he asked, "if I inquire whether you are in our city on official business?"

Joseph answered at once for the General. "Not at all. The Army of the French Republic is a people's army, and is main
tained by the citizens' taxes. Every citizen, therefore, has the right to know what is being done by our army. Am I not right Napoleone?"

The name Napoleone sounded very foreign. We couldn't help all staring at the General.

"You may ask anything you like, Citizen Clary," the General replied. "I, at all events, make no secret of my plans, my opinion the Republic is only wasting its resources in this endless defensive warfare on our frontiers. Wars of defense merely cost money and bring in neither glory nor the means of replenishing our exchequer. . . . Thank you, Mme Clary, thank you very much." Mama had handed him cake on a plate. He turned again at once to Etienne. "We must pass on of course, to offensive warfare. It will help our finances, and will show Europe that the people's army has not been defeated."

I had paid attention—but not to the words. His face was no longer concealed by his hat, and though it's not a handsome face, it seems to me more wonderful than any face I have ever seen or dreamt of. And suddenly I understood why on the day before I had been attracted to Joseph Buoanaparte. The brothers are like each other, but Joseph's features are not so strong and not so compelling as Napoleone's. They had only suggested the existence of a stronger face for which I had seemed to be longing. Napoleone's face fulfilled my expectations.

"Offensive warfare?" I heard Etienne ask in dismay. We all sat in dead silence, and I realized that the young General must have said something startling. Etienne was looking at him open-mouthed. "Yes, but, Citizen General, has our army, with very limited equipment, as we are given to understand . . ."

The General waved his hand and laughed. "Limited?
That's
not the word! Our army is a beggars' army. Our soldiers at the frontiers are in rags; they march into battle in wooden shoes. And our artillery is so wretchedly equipped that you might think Carnot, our Minister of War, planned to defend France with bows and arrows."

I leaned forward and looked hard at him. Afterward Julie told me my behaviour had been
dreadful.
But I couldn't help it. I particularly wanted to see him laugh again. He has a thin face with tightly drawn skin, very sunburned, and surrounded by reddish-brown hair. His hair comes down to his shoulders; it is not dressed or even powdered. When he laughs his drawn face suddenly becomes very boyish, and he looks much younger than he really is.

I pulled myself together because someone was saying to me, "Your health, Mlle Clary." They all had their glasses and were sipping the liqueur. Joseph had put his glass close to mine; his eyes were sparkling, and I remembered what we had arranged the day before. "Oh," I told him, "call me Eugénie as the others do." Mama raised her eyebrows, but Etienne was too engrossed in his conversation with the General to hear.

"And on what front could an offensive operation be successfully carried out?" he wanted to know.

"On the Italian front, naturally. We will drive the Austrians put of Italy. A very cheap campaign. Our troops can easily take care of themselves in Italy. So rich and fertile a country!"

"And the Italian people? They are still loyal to the Austrians."

"We will liberate the Italian people. In all the provinces we conquer we shall proclaim the Rights of Man." Though the subject seemed to interest the General very much, I could see that Etienne's objections bored him.

"Your garden is wonderful," Joseph Buonaparte said to Mama, looking through the glass door.

"It's too early yet," Julie ventured, "but when the lilac is out, and the climbing roses around the summer house—"

She stopped in confusion. I could see she was disconcerted; lilac and rambler roses do not bloom at the same time.

"Have the plans for an offensive operation on the Italian font taken definite shape?" Etienne gave him no peace. The thought of offensive action seemed to fascinate him.

"Yes. I've practically completed the plans. At present I am inspecting our fortifications here in the south."

"But Government circles are still determined on an Italian campaign?"

"Citizen Robespierre personally entrusted me with this tour of inspection. It seems to me imperative before our Italian offensive begins."

Etienne clicked his tongue, a sign that he was impressed. "A great plan," and he nodded, "a bold plan." The General smiled at Etienne, and that smile seemed to captivate my brother, that hard-headed businessman. Etienne said eagerly, stammering like a schoolchild, "If only that great plan succeeds, if only it succeeds!"

"Have no fear, Citizen Clary, it will succeed," the General replied, getting up. "And which of the two young ladies will be so kind as to show me the garden?"

Julie and I both jumped to our feet. And Julie smiled at Joseph. I don't know just how it happened, but two minutes later we four found ourselves—without Mama and without Etienne—in the garden.

Because the gravel path to the summer house is very narrow we had to go two by two. Julie and Joseph went ahead and I walked with Napoleone, racking my brains for something to say to him. I wanted terribly to make a good impression on him. He seemed not to notice our silence and to be buried in his thoughts. He walked so slowly that Julie and his brother got farther and farther away from us. Finally, I began to think he was deliberately dawdling.

"When do you think my brother and your sister will be married?" he said, all of a sudden.

I thought at first that I couldn't have heard him properly. I looked at him astounded, and I could feel that I was blushing.

"Well," he repeated, "when will they be married? Soon hope."

"Yes, but," I stammered, "they have only just met. And after all, we don't know—"

"They are made for each other," he declared. "You know that, too."

"I?" I looked at him with round astonished eyes, the way
I look at Etienne when I have a guilty conscience and don't want him to find me out. Etienne usually mutters something about "Eyes of a child" and isn't mad at me any more.

"Please don't look at me like that!" He was not impressed.

I thought I'd surely sink through the earth. But I was angry, too.

"You yourself were thinking yesterday evening that it would be a good thing for your sister to marry my brother," he declared. "After all, at her age young ladies usually are betrothed."

"I thought nothing of the sort, Citizen General!" I felt that in some way I had compromised Julie. I was no longer angry with Napoleone, only with myself.

He stopped, and looked me in the face. He was only half a
head taller than I, and he seemed pleased to have found
somebody he could tower over. It was getting dark, and the
light-blue spring twilight lowered like a screen between us a
nd Julie and Joseph. The General's face was so close to m
ine that I could still see his eyes; they were sparkling, and I
was also surprised to find that men can have long eyelashes.