Part 54 (2/2)
”All I have to say is, Go put on your uniform. I can't wait any longer for you. Join me at the Tuileries among our comrades.”
Bernadotte shook his head.
”You think you can count on Moreau, Beurnonville, and Lefebvre,” resumed Bonaparte. ”Just look out of that window. Who do you see there, and there? Moreau and Beurnonville. As for Lefebvre, I do not see him, but I am certain I shall not go a hundred steps before meeting him. Now will you decide?”
”General,” replied Bernadotte, ”I am not a man to be swayed by example, least of all when that example is bad. Moreau, Beurnonville, and Lefebvre may do as they wish. I shall do as I ought!”
”So you definitively refuse to accompany me to the Tuileries?”
”I do not wish to take part in a rebellion.”
”A rebellion! A rebellion! Against whom? Against a parcel of imbeciles who are pettifogging from morning till night in their hovels.”
”These imbeciles, general, are for the moment the representatives of the law. The Const.i.tution protects them; they are sacred to me.”
”At least promise me one thing, iron rod that you are.”
”What is it?”
”To keep quiet.”
”I will keep quiet as a citizen, but--”
”But what? Come, I made a clean breast of it to you; do you do likewise.”
”But if the Directory orders me to act, I shall march against the agitators, whoever they may be.”
”Ah! So you think I am ambitious?” asked Bonaparte.
”I suspect as much,” retorted Bernadotte, smiling.
”Faith,” said Bonaparte, ”you don't know me. I have had enough of politics, and what I want is peace. Ah, my dear fellow! Malmaison and fifty thousand a year, and I'd willingly resign all the rest. You don't believe me. Well, I invite you to come and see me there, three months hence, and if you like pastorals, we'll do one together. Now, au revoir!
I leave you with Joseph, and, in spite of your refusal, I shall expect you at the Tuileries. Hark! Our friends are becoming impatient.”
They were shouting: ”Vive Bonaparte!”
Bernadotte paled slightly. Bonaparte noticed this pallor.
”Ah, ha,” he muttered. ”Jealous! I was mistaken; he is not a Spartan, he is an Athenian!”
As Bonaparte had said, his friends were growing impatient. During the hour that had elapsed since the decree had been posted, the salon, the anterooms, and the courtyard had been crowded. The first person Bonaparte met at the head of the staircase was his compatriot, Colonel Sebastiani, then commanding the 9th Dragoons.
”Ah! is that you, Sebastiani?” said Bonaparte. ”Where are your men?”
”In line along the Rue de la Victoire, general.”
”Well disposed?”
<script>