Désirée (71 page)

"Flight," Jérôme shouted.

"All right—the flight of the Regent and the King of Rome w
ould lower the morale of the people. I fear that if they left Paris—" Joseph left it hanging.

"Well?" the Empress asked.

"I must leave the decision to the Regent," said Joseph wearily, and he no longer reminded me at all of Napoleon. A fat, elderly man, helplessly stroking his thinning hair with an uncertain hand.

"I only want to do my duty, and not be reproached afterward," Marie Louise explained apathetically.

Mme Letizia recoiled as though from a blow. So this was the woman her Napoleon had married. . . .

"Madame, if you leave the Tuileries now, you may forfeit your claim to the Imperial Crown of France. You and your son," Jérôme whispered urgently. "Madame, trust the Guard, the people of Paris!"

"We'll stay here then," said Marie Louise amiably, and began to untie the ribbons of her hat.

"Madame, the letter from His Majesty," Joseph moaned. "Napoleon said he would rather see his son in the Seine than . . ."

"Don't repeat that awful phrase," I burst out. They all turned toward me. It was dreadful. I was still near the door; I bowed hurriedly in the general direction of the Empress and murmured, "Excuse me, I won't disturb you, only . . . .

"The Crown Princess of Sweden in the salon of the Regent? Madame, this is an impertinence that cannot be borne," roared Jérôme, and made for me like a madman.

"Jérôme, I myself asked Her Royal Highness here because, because Julie—" Joseph, utterly disconcerted, looked for support to my sister. I looked, too, and for the first time saw Julie. She sat on a sofa at the far end of the salon with her daughters. All three were blurred in the half-light.

"Please sit down, Highness," Marie Louise said graciously. I quickly betook myself to the end of the room and sat with Julie. She had her arm around Zenaïde's shoulder and was stroking the child's arm.

"Don't be so upset," I whispered.

The first rays of the sun came streaming into the room.
"Jérôme, blow out the candles, we must economize," Mme Letizia said sternly. Jérôme did nothing. Julie's little daughters jumped up, delighted to have something to do.

I put my arm around Julie. "You and the children are coming home with me," I whispered. They were still arguing around the fireplace. Then Joseph came over to us.

"If the Regent and the child go to Rambouillet," he said, "I must go too."

"I thought you had the supreme command in Paris," said Julie in a low voice.

"But the Emperor wrote me that I shouldn't leave his son," Joseph said breathlessly. "The whole family will come with us. Julie, I ask you for the last time—"

Julie shook her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks. "No, no—I'm afraid we'll be chased from palace to palace, and in the end the Cossacks will get us. Let me stay with Désirée, Joseph. Her house is safe. Your house is safe, isn't it, Désirée?"

Joseph and I looked at each other. It was a long look in which we said all the things we hadn't said since that evening when we met in the Town Hall. "You can stay at my house, too, Joseph," I said at last.

He shook his head and managed a smile. "Perhaps Napoleon will come back and save Paris, then in a few days I can be with Julie again. If not—" he kissed my hand—"I thank you. for everything you're doing for Julie and my children. You and your husband."

At this moment a lackey announced, "The Prince of Bénévent asks an audience."

We looked at Marie Louise. Smilingly she turned to the door. "Let him come in."

Talleyrand limped quickly toward the Empress. His face looked tired and strained, but his hair was carefully powdered. He wore the uniform of a Grand Seigneur of the Empire. Your Majesty," he said, "I have spoken with the Minister of War. We have news from Marmont. The Marshal begs Your Majesty to leave Paris immediately with the King of Rome. The Marshal does not know how long he can hold the road
to Rambouillet. I deeply regret being the bearer of this tragic news."

There was almost complete silence. Only the silk ribbons Marie Louise's hat rustled as she tied them under her chin again. "Am I still to meet His Majesty in Rambouillet?" she inquired.

"His Majesty is on his way to Fontainebleau, and from there will hurry here to the defence of Paris," Joseph said.

"But I mean His Majesty, the Emperor of Austria— my papa!"

Joseph went white to his lips. Jérôme clenched his teeth, the vein on his forehead swelled. Only Talleyrand smiled pityingly and showed no surprise. Mme Letizia grabbed her daughter-in-law by the arm. "Come, madame, come with me."

At the door Marie Louise turned around once more. His blue eyes took in the salon, lingered on the white curtains with the embroidered bees, met Talleyrand's enigmatic smile. "If only no one reproaches me later," Marie Louise said, an left.

Now we could hear the child outside crying and screaming. Instinctively I went to the door. The two governesses, Mme de Montesquieu and Mme Bouber, were trying to get the little Napoleon downstairs. They'd dressed him in a small Chasseur uniform. The child, with Marie Louise's blond curls and his father's stubborn chin, hung onto the banister. "I won't," he screamed. "I won't go." And kicked the helpless governesses in the shins.

"Come, darling, come on," Mme de Montesquieu told him in despair. "Mama is waiting downstairs in a beautiful large carriage." But the child wouldn't budge.

Suddenly Hortense took over. "I know how to deal with little
boys," she said with a smile. She leaned over the boy, and
with an experienced pressure sprung his fingers loose. "There,
now go down like a good boy." The child was startled. For
the first time, someone had taken charge.

"Are we going to Papa, Aunt Hortense?" (Kick her in the shins, I thought, give her a good kick!)

"Of course, darling," Hortense assured him, and little
Napoleon obediently followed his governesses down the stairs. I looked at Hortense. She was breathing hard. Hadn't Napoleon once named her oldest son his successor? Before the birth of the King of Rome. Before . . .

"Exit Napoleon II," murmured Talleyrand beside me.

"I am sorry to be so uneducated. I don't know who this Astyanax in the Seine is, and neither do I know the word 'exit.' "

"Astyanax is a character in classical antiquity. An unfortunate boy who was taken prisoner by the Greeks and thrown from a wall. People feared he might revenge the destruction of Troy and the death of his father, Hector. But, at this moment, Highness, I can't possibly tell you the whole story of the Trojan War. 'Exit' is a Latin word which means 'he goes out.' Exit Napoleon II: Napoleon II goes out—of the Tuileries, of world history." Talleyrand looked at his watch. "I fear I must take my leave, my carriage is waiting. . . ."

He also looked back thoughtfully at the salon. His eyes also lingered on the white curtains with the embroidered bees. "A pretty pattern . . . . a shame the curtains will soon be taken down."

"If they were hung upside down, the bees would stand on their heads. Then they'd look like lilies. Like Bourbon lilies," I said.

Talleyrand raised his lorgnon to his eye. "How very strange. . . . But I must go, Your Highness."

"No one is detaining you, Prince. Are you really going with the Empress?"

"Of course. But I will, unfortunately, be taken prisoner by the Russians at the gates of Paris. Therefore, I must not be late, the Russian patrol is expecting me. Au revoir, dear Highness."

"Perhaps Marshal Marmont will free you. You deserve it," I said contemptuously.

"You think so? Then you'll be disappointed. Marshal Marmont is very busy at the moment negotiating for the surrender of Paris. But keep this news to yourself, Highness. We want to avoid unnecessary confusion and bloodshed."

How graciously he bowed, how confidently he limped away. He would certainly have the curtains hung upside down. . . .

At last I was in my carriage with Julie and her daughters, driving back to the rue d'Anjou.

And, for the first time since the day Julie became a queen, Marie spoke to her again. She put a motherly arm around Julie's thin shoulders and led her upstairs. "Marie, Queen Julie will sleep in Oscar's room, and the children can use Mme la Flotte's. Mme la Flotte must move into the guest room."

"And General Clary, M. Etienne's son?" Marie asked.

"What?"

"The General arrived an hour ago, and wants to stay here. Just for a while," Marie announced. Etienne had sent his son Marius to the War Academy instead of training him for Papa's business. And Marius, with the help of God and Napoleon, had become a general.

"The allied and the prisoner of war aides can share a room. Then General Clary can sleep in Colonel Villatte's bed," I decided.

"And the Countess Tascher?" Marie asked. The full import of this question I didn't understand until I entered the salon. There Etienne's daughter, Marcelline, who is married to a Count Tascher, flung herself, weeping, into my arms. "Aunt, I'm so frightened in my own house. The Cossacks may arrive at any moment," she sobbed.

"And your husband?"

"Somewhere at the front. Marius spent the night with me, and we decided to come here and, for the present—"

I gave her the guest room, and La Flotte will have to sleep on a divan in the dressing room.

About five o'clock in the afternoon the cannon stopped roaring. Villatte and Rosen returned from a walk and said that Blücher had taken Montmartre, and the Austrians were in Menilmontant. The Allies are demanding unconditional surrender.

"What about my children's governess?" Julie moaned. "If
she hasn't a room of her own, she'll give notice. Who's sleeping in Jean-Baptiste's bed?"

Not your governess! I thought furiously, and fled. Fled to Jean-Baptiste's empty bedroom. Sat down on the wide empty bed. Listened to the night outside, listened. . . .

Pans, March 31, 1814

At two o'clock this morning the treaty of surrender was signed. When I looked out of my window the Swedish flag waved over my front door. Count Rosen, with the help of the Swedish coachman, had hung it there. A great crowd of people waited in front of our house. Their angry mutterings tarried up to my window.

'What do these people want, Villatte?"

"The rumour has gone around that His Highness will soon arrive."

"But what do these people want of Jean-Baptiste?"

The mutterings increased and sounded definitely hostile. I enquired no further.

A carriage drove up. Gendarmes held back the crowd. I
saw Hortense climb out of the carriage with nine-year-old Na
poleon Louis and six-year-old Charles Louis Napoleon. The
babble of voices ceased. One of the children pointed to the
Swedish flag and asked something. But Hortense hastily h
erded her boys into the house.

La Flotte appeared. "Queen Hortense wants to know if the Emperor's nephews can, for the present, remain under the protection of Your Highness. The Queen herself will go to her mother at Malmaison."

Two little boys in the house, perhaps we still have some of Oscar's toys in the attic. . . . "Tell Her Majesty I'll take
good care of the children." I'll put them in Mme la Flotte' room. Marcelline can have the dressing room, and Mme Flotte Yvette's room, and Yvette—I saw Hortense, below, get back in her carriage. "Vive l'Empereur!" the crowd shouted as she drove off.

Then the human wall closed in once more around my house. I no longer wait alone. Ominously, the mob waits with me.

Paris, April, 1814

On March 31, the troops of the Allies marched into Paris. The Cossacks galloped down the Champs Elysées shouting weird, incomprehensible cries. The Prussians moved forward in serried ranks; they carried captured eagles—standards and French banners through the streets, and sang songs written by their so-called Poets of Liberation.

The Austrians, on the contrary, marched to the beat of drums, and waved to the girls hanging out of the windows. They'd rolled cannon in front of the allied commanders' headquarters to protect them from the Parisians' fury. But they had no time to revenge themselves on Prince von Schwarzenberg or General von Blücher. The Parisians were lined up at the bakers or begging the grocers for a small sack of flour. The granaries outside Paris had been plundered by the Allies and then burned to the ground. The roads to the southern districts are barricaded. Paris is hungry.

On April 1, a provisional government was set up to negotiate with the Allies. At the head is Talleyrand. The Tsar was quartered in the Palais Talleyrand. Talleyrand gave a great ball in his honour, attended by members of the old nobility whom Napoleon had allowed to return from exile. Cham
pagne flowed without stint, and the Tsar produced, as if by magic, flour and meat and caviar. The guests were stuffed.

Napoleon is at Fontainebleau with five thousand guardsmen. Caulaincourt's carriage drives continuously back and forth between Paris and Fontainebleau. Caulaincourt is negotiating in the name of the Emperor with the Allies. The Allies are promoting Talleyrand as head of the new Government, but France herself is supposed to decide.