The Second Empress by Michelle Moran Read Free Book Online

and blue velvet,” Napoleon said. “And it should be embroidered with a single ‘N.’ ”
    “You must also include your three insignias,” I urged him. So the giant eagle, the Legion of Honor star, and golden bees were all embroidered into the fabric.
    The chamber grows silent as liveried trumpeters herald my brother and Joséphine’s approach. I clutch my réticule so tightly that I can feel my knuckles turning white on the clasp. “Remember to breathe,” Paul advises.
    It’s true. I don’t want my brother to see me red-faced when he looks down from the dais. I have prepared fourteen years for this moment, and my complexion is not going to ruin it for me. And then: there they are. My God, look at Joséphine’s pallor . It couldn’t be more unattractive. As she takes her place next to my brother, she looks as if she might faint. For a moment, I almost feel sorry for her, standing in front of a thousand people to surrender her crown. It must be mortifying. And then I study her more closely: she has actually purchased a new gown for the event! And those diamonds in her hair did not come cheap. No doubt he will let her keep them.
    “To my devoted stepchildren,” my brother is saying, “I am immensely grateful. Eugène and Hortense are like my own …”
    Please. If that were the case, there would be no divorce.
    “God alone knows what this resolve has cost my heart,” my brother continues.
    He can really lay it on thick when he wants to. “I have found courage for this act only through the knowledge that it serves the very best interests of France.” There is some murmuring among the assembled.“I have only gratitude to express for the devotion and tenderness of my well-beloved wife. She has adorned fourteen years of my life, and the memory of those years will remain forever in my heart.”
    I think to clap, but everyone else is still, so I refrain.
    Then my brother steps back, and Joséphine takes his place in the center of the dais. Now the room has gone utterly silent. You can hear the rustling of women’s gowns, and the heavy, labored breathing of the old men behind me.
    “With the permission of my dear and august husband,” she begins, “I offer him the greatest proof of devotion ever given to a husband on this earth …”
    The room waits for her to continue, to say the lines she must have rehearsed a dozen times for this performance, but she begins trembling violently. The silence is excruciating until she reaches into her réticule and pulls out a folded paper.
    “Monsieur Moreau.” Incredibly, Napoleon crooks a finger at my chamberlain. He wants Paul to read the rest of Joséphine’s speech!
    I know my brother has great esteem for Paul, but this is unprecedented. I glance at the men standing in my immediate vicinity and spy the actor, Talma, dressed in a red velvet coat with white cashmere breeches. For Christ’s sake, why not ask him to perform for her?
    I will Joséphine to get ahold of herself, but Paul begins speaking in her stead. “I respond to all the sentiments of the emperor in consenting to the dissolution of a marriage which henceforth is an obstacle to the happiness of France by depriving it of the blessing of being one day governed by the descendants of that great man, evidently raised up by Providence, to efface the evils of a terrible revolution and restore the altar, the throne, and social order.”
    I stare directly at Joséphine. This is her moment to deliver a performance the court will never forget, and what does she do? Hand her part to someone else.
    “But his marriage will in no respect change the sentiments of my heart; the emperor will ever find me his best friend. I know what thisact, commanded by policy and exalted interests, has cost his heart, but we both glory in the sacrifices that we make to the good of our country. I feel elevated by giving the greatest proof of attachment and devotion that was ever given upon earth.”
    She is an imbecile.
    As the