Désirée Read Online Free PDF Page B

it?" I asked him.
    "Yes, it is. All my family, except one brother, live here now."
    "I thought— Well, your accent is different from ours."
    "I am a Corsican," he said, "a Corsican refugee. We all came to France a little over a year ago—my mother, my brothers and sisters, and I. We had to leave everythin
g we
owned in Corsica, and escaped with our bare lives."
    It sounded wildly romantic. "Why?" I asked, breathless with excitement.
    "Because we are patriots," he said.
    "But doesn't Corsica belong to Italy?" I inquired. My ignorance is beyond belief.
    "How can you ask such a thing?" he replied indignantly. "For twenty-five years Corsica has belonged to France. We were brought up as French citizens, patriotic French citizens! That's why we couldn't possibly come to terms with the party that wanted to hand Corsica over to the English. Then a year ago English warships suddenly appeared off our coast. You must have heard about it—didn't you?"
    I nodded. Probably I had heard about it at the time, but I had forgotten all about it now.
    "We had to flee. Mama and all of us." His voice was grim. He was like a real hero in a novel—a homeless refugee.
    "And have you friends in Marseilles?"
    "My brother helps us. He was able to get Mama a small government pension, because she had to flee from the English. My brother was educated in France. In Brienne, in the Cadet College. He is a general."
    'Oh," I said, speechless with admiration. One really should say something when told that a man's brother is a general, but I couldn't think of a thing and he changed the subject.
    "You are a daughter of the late silk merchant Clary, aren't you?"
    I was startled. "How did you know that?"
    He laughed. "You needn't be surprised. I might tell you that the eyes of the law see everything and that I, as an official of the Republic, am one of those many eyes. But I'll be honest, mademoiselle, and admit that you yourself told me. You said you were Etienne Clary's sister, and I learned from he documents that Etienne Clary is the son of the late François Clary."
    He spoke quickly, and when he does that he is liable to roll his r´s like a real foreigner. But, after all, he is a Corsican.
    By the way, mademoiselle," he said suddenly, "you were right. Your brother's arrest was indeed due to a misunderstanding. The warrant for the arrest was actually made out in your father's name-François Clary.
    " But Papa is no longer alive!"
    "Quite so, and that explains the misunderstanding. It's all down in your brother's file. Recently an examination of certain pre-Revolution documents revealed that the silk merchant François Clary had petitioned to be granted a patent of nobility."
    I was astonished. "Really? We knew nothing about that. And I don't understand it. Papa never had any liking for the aristocracy. Why should he have done that?"
    "For business reasons," Citizen Buonaparte explained, "only for business reasons. I suppose he wanted to be appointed Purveyor to the Court?"
    "Yes, and once he sent some blue silk velvet to the Queen at Versailles—to the Widow Capet, I mean. Papa's silks were famous for their excellent quality," I added proudly.
    "His petition was regarded as—well, let us say as entirely unsuited to the times. That's why a warrant for his arrested issued. And when our people went to his address they found only the silk merchant Etienne Clary, and so they arrested him."
    "I'm sure that Etienne knew nothing about that petition," I declared.
    "I assume that your sister-in-law Suzanne convinced Deputy Albitte of her husband's innocence. That is why your brother was released. Your sister-in-law must have hurried to the prison at once to fetch him. But all that is over and done with. What interests me," he continued, and his voice was soft, almost tender, "what interests me is not your family mademoiselle, but you yourself, little citizeness. What is your name?"
    "My name is Bernardine Eugénie Désirée. They call me Eugénie. But I should much