meant.
At first I think only about Joséphine. How gracious, how graceful she is! Last night at supper she had a way of making everyone at her table feel as if the entire meal, the entire evening revolved around them. Except for me, of course. Although she did make an effort to draw me intothe conversation, asking questions about Virginia as though she was really interested.
But much more fascinating conversations claimed her attention, and I do not hold it against her that she paid me so little attention. No wonder Captain Charles is in love with her.
I could not help noticing the way Bonaparte, if the conversation drifted at all from matters that concerned him, gazed at Captain Charles, and then at Joséphine. He did not look happy. In those moments I also saw Caroline glance over, her attention for just a moment drawn away from Murat. Could it be that there is some strife between Napoléon and Joséphine?
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts about last evening that I almost forget to notice the garden, beautiful even at this barren time of year. And I almost fail to notice altogether that I am not alone. Ahead of me on the path is Caroline. I am about to call out to her when I see her back away as if she is trying to remain hidden. What has she seen?
I stay where I am for a moment, then see another path that leads away from the main avenue but closer to where Caroline stands. I follow it. Before long, I am aware of what has stopped her. Hortense and Eugène are also in the garden, and she is listening to their conversation.
“Oh, Eugène! You know Maman will be heartbroken.”
“We’re speaking of my heart here, not hers. And I shall no doubt rise far in our stepfather’s retinue nonetheless. She need not use me as a pawn, to dispose of in marriageas she pleases. I can thrive without that. Perhaps Bonaparte will give me charge of a battalion soon. Surely she can have no greater hopes than that!”
Eugène! He is in love with someone, someone he thinks his mother will not approve of. My heart beats a little faster. Surely not ... But what if it is I? What if—like me—he was instantly smitten upon seeing me? I have heard that it can happen this way, love. Yet we have hardly exchanged glances, let alone any words of consequence.
And Caroline is smiling. Why would Eugène’s romances please her?
“Will you help me tell her?” Eugène pleads with Hortense. Her eyes are cast down. She doesn’t look pleased. Perhaps I am mistaken....
“I will try. But you know I cannot guarantee that Maman will accept a common actress for a daughter-in-law!”
A common actress? Of course he does not speak of me. How could he? But there is some comfort for me in the fact that Joséphine cannot be happy about his choice, if he has indeed truly chosen. And perhaps he will need comforting, a shoulder to weep upon, when his hopes for romance are dashed.
I am so absorbed in my own thoughts that I don’t notice that Caroline is now striding toward me. I have to decide quickly what to do. I choose to act naive, pretend I am just returning from a stroll and wish to walk with her back to the house.
“Caroline!” I call out.
She rushes forward, her finger at her lips. “Hush!” she says, grasping my arm and hurrying both of us back to the house.
“What is it?” I ask, knowing full well that she does not want to reveal her presence to Hortense and Eugène.
“Oh! Only that everyone is still sleeping, and we must not disturb their rest at this time.” She is whispering. “Joséphine does not stir until the afternoon on most days, and becomes very cross if anyone wakes her before then.”
I doubt that Caroline actually knows this to be the case, but decide to let it drop.
By now we have entered the vestibule, and a maid appears from nowhere to take our wraps. We wander into a salon, a small one, very elegantly furnished and welcoming. The pianoforte and music stand suggest this is the music room. “It’s so beautiful here
At first I think only about Joséphine. How gracious, how graceful she is! Last night at supper she had a way of making everyone at her table feel as if the entire meal, the entire evening revolved around them. Except for me, of course. Although she did make an effort to draw me intothe conversation, asking questions about Virginia as though she was really interested.
But much more fascinating conversations claimed her attention, and I do not hold it against her that she paid me so little attention. No wonder Captain Charles is in love with her.
I could not help noticing the way Bonaparte, if the conversation drifted at all from matters that concerned him, gazed at Captain Charles, and then at Joséphine. He did not look happy. In those moments I also saw Caroline glance over, her attention for just a moment drawn away from Murat. Could it be that there is some strife between Napoléon and Joséphine?
I am so wrapped up in my thoughts about last evening that I almost forget to notice the garden, beautiful even at this barren time of year. And I almost fail to notice altogether that I am not alone. Ahead of me on the path is Caroline. I am about to call out to her when I see her back away as if she is trying to remain hidden. What has she seen?
I stay where I am for a moment, then see another path that leads away from the main avenue but closer to where Caroline stands. I follow it. Before long, I am aware of what has stopped her. Hortense and Eugène are also in the garden, and she is listening to their conversation.
“Oh, Eugène! You know Maman will be heartbroken.”
“We’re speaking of my heart here, not hers. And I shall no doubt rise far in our stepfather’s retinue nonetheless. She need not use me as a pawn, to dispose of in marriageas she pleases. I can thrive without that. Perhaps Bonaparte will give me charge of a battalion soon. Surely she can have no greater hopes than that!”
Eugène! He is in love with someone, someone he thinks his mother will not approve of. My heart beats a little faster. Surely not ... But what if it is I? What if—like me—he was instantly smitten upon seeing me? I have heard that it can happen this way, love. Yet we have hardly exchanged glances, let alone any words of consequence.
And Caroline is smiling. Why would Eugène’s romances please her?
“Will you help me tell her?” Eugène pleads with Hortense. Her eyes are cast down. She doesn’t look pleased. Perhaps I am mistaken....
“I will try. But you know I cannot guarantee that Maman will accept a common actress for a daughter-in-law!”
A common actress? Of course he does not speak of me. How could he? But there is some comfort for me in the fact that Joséphine cannot be happy about his choice, if he has indeed truly chosen. And perhaps he will need comforting, a shoulder to weep upon, when his hopes for romance are dashed.
I am so absorbed in my own thoughts that I don’t notice that Caroline is now striding toward me. I have to decide quickly what to do. I choose to act naive, pretend I am just returning from a stroll and wish to walk with her back to the house.
“Caroline!” I call out.
She rushes forward, her finger at her lips. “Hush!” she says, grasping my arm and hurrying both of us back to the house.
“What is it?” I ask, knowing full well that she does not want to reveal her presence to Hortense and Eugène.
“Oh! Only that everyone is still sleeping, and we must not disturb their rest at this time.” She is whispering. “Joséphine does not stir until the afternoon on most days, and becomes very cross if anyone wakes her before then.”
I doubt that Caroline actually knows this to be the case, but decide to let it drop.
By now we have entered the vestibule, and a maid appears from nowhere to take our wraps. We wander into a salon, a small one, very elegantly furnished and welcoming. The pianoforte and music stand suggest this is the music room. “It’s so beautiful here
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