Désirée by Annemarie Selinko Read Free Book Online Page B

hear.
    "And on what front could an offensive operation be successfully carried out?" he wanted to know.
    "On the Italian front, naturally. We will drive the Austrians put of Italy. A very cheap campaign. Our troops can easily take care of themselves in Italy. So rich and fertile a country!"
    "And the Italian people? They are still loyal to the Austrians."
    "We will liberate the Italian people. In all the provinces we conquer we shall proclaim the Rights of Man." Though the subject seemed to interest the General very much, I could see that Etienne's objections bored him.
    "Your garden is wonderful," Joseph Buonaparte said to Mama, looking through the glass door.
    "It's too early yet," Julie ventured, "but when the lilac is out, and the climbing roses around the summer house—"
    She stopped in confusion. I could see she was disconcerted; lilac and rambler roses do not bloom at the same time.
    "Have the plans for an offensive operation on the Italian font taken definite shape?" Etienne gave him no peace. The thought of offensive action seemed to fascinate him.
    "Yes. I've practically completed the plans. At present I am inspecting our fortifications here in the south."
    "But Government circles are still determined on an Italian campaign?"
    "Citizen Robespierre personally entrusted me with this tour of inspection. It seems to me imperative before our Italian offensive begins."
    Etienne clicked his tongue, a sign that he was impressed. "A great plan," and he nodded, "a bold plan." The General smiled at Etienne, and that smile seemed to captivate my brother, that hard-headed businessman. Etienne said eagerly, stammering like a schoolchild, "If only that great plan succeeds, if only it succeeds!"
    "Have no fear, Citizen Clary, it will succeed," the General replied, getting up. "And which of the two young ladies will be so kind as to show me the garden?"
    Julie and I both jumped to our feet. And Julie smiled at Joseph. I don't know just how it happened, but two minutes later we four found ourselves—without Mama and without Etienne—in the garden.
    Because the gravel path to the summer house is very narrow we had to go two by two. Julie and Joseph went ahead and I walked with Napoleone, racking my brains for something to say to him. I wanted terribly to make a good impression on him. He seemed not to notice our silence and to be buried in his thoughts. He walked so slowly that Julie and his brother got farther and farther away from us. Finally, I began to think he was deliberately dawdling.
    "When do you think my brother and your sister will be married?" he said, all of a sudden.
    I thought at first that I couldn't have heard him properly. I looked at him astounded, and I could feel that I was blushing.
    "Well," he repeated, "when will they be married? Soon hope."
    "Yes, but," I stammered, "they have only just met. And after all, we don't know—"
    "They are made for each other," he declared. "You know that, too."
    "I?" I looked at him with round astonished eyes, the way I look at Etienne when I have a guilty conscience and don't want him to find me out. Etienne usually mutters something about "Eyes of a child" and isn't mad at me any more.
    "Please don't look at me like that!" He was not impressed.
    I thought I'd surely sink through the earth. But I was angry, too.
    "You yourself were thinking yesterday evening that it would be a good thing for your sister to marry my brother," he declared. "After all, at her age young ladies usually are betrothed."
    "I thought nothing of the sort, Citizen General!" I felt that in some way I had compromised Julie. I was no longer angry with Napoleone, only with myself.
    He stopped, and looked me in the face. He was only half a head taller than I, and he seemed pleased to have found somebody he could tower over. It was getting dark, and the light-blue spring twilight lowered like a screen between us a nd Julie and Joseph. The General's face was so close to m ine that I could still see his eyes;