Part 6 (1/2)

A WRONG RIGHTED.

It was the third day of the family's absence from the Bonaparte house.

Napoleon had been at his favorite resort,--the grotto that overlooked the sea. He had been brooding over his fancied wrongs, as well as his real ones; he had wished he could be a man to do as he pleased. He would free Corsica from French tyranny, make his father rich, and his mother free from worry, and, in fact, accomplish all those impossible things that every boy of spirit and ambition is certain he could do if he might but have the chance.

As he approached his home, he saw little Panoria swinging on the gate.

She was waiting for her friend Eliza; for she had learned from Pauline that the absent ones were to return that evening from their visit to Melilli.

Panoria, as you have learned, was a bright little girl, who spoke her mind, and had no great awe for the Bonapartes--not even for the mighty Canon Lucien, the all-powerful Nurse Saveria, nor the masterful little Napoleon.

In fact, Napoleon stood more in awe of Panoria than she did of him. For the boy was, as boys and girls say today, ”sweet on” the little Panoria, to whom he gave the pet name ”La Giacommetta.” Many a battle royal he had fought because of her with the fun-loving boys of Ajaccio, who found that it enraged Napoleon to tease him about the little girl, and therefore never let the opportunity slip to tease and torment him.

”Ah, Napoleon, it is you!” cried Panoria, as the boy approached her.

”And what great stories have you been telling yourself today in your grotto?”

”I tell no great stories to myself, little one,” Napoleon replied with rather a lordly air. ”I do but talk truth with myself.”

”Then should you talk truth with me, boy,” the little lady replied, a trifle haughty also. ”I am not to be called 'little one' by such a mite as you. See! I am taller than you!”

”Yes; when one stands on a gate, one is taller than he who stands on the ground,” Napoleon admitted. ”But when we stand back to back, who then is the taller? See! Call Pauline! She shall tell us!”

”That shall she not, then,” said the little girl, who loved to tease quite as well as most girls. ”It would be better to go and make yourself look fine, than to stand here saying how big you are. Go look in the gla.s.s. Your stockings are tumbling over your shoes, and your jacket is all awry. How will your Mamma Let.i.tia like that? Run, then! I hear the carriage wheels! In with you, little Down-at-the-heel!”

Smarting under the girl's teasing, and all the more because it came from her, Napoleon sulked into the house.

But Panoria still swung on the gate. When the carriage stopped before the house, she ran to welcome her friend Eliza, and, with the returned family, entered the house.

In the doorway the fat little canon, Uncle Lucien, received them.

”Back again, uncle!” cried Mamma Let.i.tia in welcome. ”And how do you all? Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?” The woman who spoke was Madame Let.i.tia Bonaparte, the mother of Napoleon. She was a remarkable woman--remarkable for beauty, for ability, and for position. Born a peasant, she became the mother of kings and queens; reared in poverty, she became the mistress of millions. In her Corsican home she was house-mother and care-taker; and when, made great by her great son, she had every comfort and every luxury, she still remained house-mother and care-taker, looking after her own household, and refusing to spend the money with which her son provided her, for fear that some day she or her family might need it. In all the troubles in Corsica she accompanied her husband to the mountain-retreat and the battle-field, encouraging him by her bravery, and urging him to patriotic purpose, until the end came, and Corsica was defeated and conquered. She carried all the worries and bore all the responsibilities of the Bonaparte household; and it was only by her management and carefulness that the family was kept from absolute poverty.

Her children loved her; but they feared her too, and never thought of going contrary to her desires or commands. Late in life Napoleon once told a boy of whom he was fond the consequences of the only time he ever dared make fun of ”Mamma Let.i.tia.”

”Pauline and I tried it,” he said; ”but it was a great mistake on our part. It was the only time in my life that my mother herself ever whipped me. I don't believe Pauline ever forgot it. I never did.”

So it was Mamma Let.i.tia who first spoke on the arrival at home; and her first question was as to the children who had remained behind.

”Where is Napoleon? Where is Pauline?” she asked.

Little Pauline sprang from behind her uncle the canon.

”I am here, mamma,” she said, and threw herself in her mother's arms.

”But where is Napoleon?”

”He has not been good, mamma,” Pauline replied. ”See! he is there, behind the door. He dare not come out. He pouts.”

”It is not so, mamma,” said Napoleon, coming forward; ”I do dare. I am sad; but I do not pout.”