The Last Great Dance on Earth Read Online Free PDF Page A

worry,” Fouché told me later, on leaving. “We’ll protect him. We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t know it.”
    *
Josephine’s childhood name was Rose and her nickname Yeyette. Mimi had been a slave on Josephine’s family’s sugar plantation in Martinique (“Martinico”). She and Josephine grew up together and had a sisterly relationship. It is possible that they were, in fact, half-sisters; Josephine’s father may have been Mimi’s father. Josephine had purchased Mimi’s freedom a few years previously.
    *
“Italy” in 1800 comprised various independent states, including several northern territories claimed by Austria.

In which I try (but fail) to accept
    May 5, 1800, 11:45 P.M.—Tuileries Palace.
    Bonaparte and I had just returned from the Opéra when his sister and brother were announced.
    “Joseph has something urgent to discuss with you before you go,” Caroline said. Bonaparte’s older brother Joseph stood behind her, dressed entirely in pale yellow brocade.
    “Before I go where?” Bonaparte demanded.
    “To Italy,” Caroline answered, offering her snuffbox to her brothers before taking a pinch herself. (She claims it calms her sickness of the stomach, which has been violent throughout her first month.)
    “How did you find out I’m leaving? No one is supposed to know.”
    “What we want to know is what happens if you get killed,” Caroline said, refusing my offer of a chair. Joseph sat down instead, his hands pressed between his knees.
    “If I die—or rather,
when
I die—I’ll be put in a coffin,” Bonaparte said evenly, reaching for a paper knife and slicing open an envelope.
    “It’s not a jesting matter, Napoleon! Who would run this country?” Caroline paced with her hands behind her back (as Bonaparte so often does), her masculine movements at odds with her ensemble: a gauze creation wildly embellished with bows and wired flowers.
    “According to the Constitution, the Second Consul,” Bonaparte said, looking up from the letter.
    “Cambacérès?” Joseph’s voice was tinged with disgust.
    “That
would set an interesting example for the nation,” Caroline saidscornfully. “Imagine—the French Republic led by a man who claims that a country is governed by good dinner parties, whose passions run to food, expensive wine and young men.”
    “Second Consul Cambacérès is a highly capable individual.” Bonaparte crumpled the letter and hurled it into the roaring fire.
    Oh-oh, I thought. I rang for the butler: a collation.
Anything.
    “Your successor must be within the clan,” Caroline said, squaring her shoulders.
    “And I am the eldest,” Joseph said, scratching the end of his nose.
    Bonaparte looked at his brother and laughed.
“You
want my job, Joseph? You don’t know what’s involved. You’d have to rise before eleven. You might actually have to work a day or two.”
    “It is our right!” Caroline said, her cherub cheeks pink, her eyes blazing.
    “My
right,” Joseph said.
    “The French Republic is not a family fiefdom!” Bonaparte exploded. By the time the butler arrived with a tray of wine and sweetmeats, they had departed in a temper. Mon Dieu.
    6:30 in the morning (cold).
    Bonaparte left before dawn. “I’ll be back in a month, I promise,” he said, pulling a greatcoat on over his consul’s uniform.
    “Please, Bonaparte, take me with you.” My trunk was packed!
    “I need you in Paris, Josephine. No matter what you hear, you must act as if all is well.”
    “Even if I hear what?” I asked warily.
    “Even if you hear that I’ve been defeated, or that I’ve been, killed. Even if you hear that your son has been—”
No!
I put my fingers over his mouth.
    “The public will be watching. They will assume that you know.
Always
tell people I am victorious.”
    “But what if the rumours are true?”
    “I’m not going to be defeated. I have you, don’t I? My guardian angel,” he said, kissing me tenderly—his good-luck kiss, he calls