Désirée by Annemarie Selinko

they were sparkling, and I was also surprised to find that men can have long eyelashes.
    "You must never have any secrets from me, Mlle Eugénie. I can see deep into the hearts of young ladies. Besides, Joseph t old me last night that you had promised to introduce him t o your elder sister. You also told him that your sister was v ery pretty. That's not true, and—you must have had good r eason for your little white lie."
    "We must hurry," I said to that. "The others must be in the summer house already."
    "Hadn't we better give your sister a chance to get better acquainted with my brother before she becomes betrothed to him?" he asked softly. His voice sounded very gentle, almost—yes, almost caressing. His accent quite often seems less foreign than his brother's.
    "Joseph will very soon be suing for your sister's hand," he told me then quite forthrightly. It was so dark now that I could see his face only dimly, but I could tell he was s miling.
    "How do you know that?" I asked, puzzled.
    "We talked about it last night," he replied, as if that were the most natural thing in the world to do.
    "But last night your brother had never met my sister," I retorted, outraged.
    Then he very gently took my arm, and I could feel his nearness all through me. We went slowly on, and he spoke so tenderly and trustingly that we might have been friends for years.
    "Joseph told me of his meeting with you, and also that your family are very well-to-do. Your father is no longer living, but I assume that he left a considerable dowry for you and your sister. Our people are very poor."
    "You have sisters, too, haven't you?" I remembered that Joseph had mentioned sisters of my age the day before.
    "Yes, three young sisters and three young brothers," he said. "And Joseph and I have to provide for Mama and of them. Mama has a very small pension from the State, because she's considered a persecuted patriot since fleeing from Corsica. But the pension doesn't even pay the rent You have no idea, Mlle Eugénie., how expensive a life is now in France."
    "So your brother only wants to marry my sister for her dowry?" I tried to sound cool and wise, but my voice shook with indignation and dismay.
    "How can you say that, Mlle Eugénie.! I think your sister is a lovely girl—so friendly, so modest, with such pretty eyes —I am quite sure that Joseph finds her charming. They will be very happy together."
    He began to walk faster. To him the subject was settled. "I'm going to tell Julie everything you've said," I warned him.
    "Of course. That's why I've explained it so carefully. Yes, tell Julie, so that she'll know that Joseph will soon be suing for her hand."
    I was horrified. How shameless, I thought; and I imagined Etienne sneering, "Corsican adventurers!" "May I asked said coldly, "why you are so concerned about your brother's marriage?"
    "Sh! Don't shout! You must realize, Mlle Eugénie., that before I take over as commander in chief in Italy I want to see my family well settled. Joseph is interested, too, in politics and literature, and he may be able to do well in one or the other of those fields if he no longer has to accept subordinate posts. After my first Italian victories, I will of course look after my whole family." He paused. "And— believe me, mademoiselle, I shall look after them well!"
    We had come to the summer house. "Where have you been so long with the child, General?" Julie asked. "We waited a long time for you and Eugénie." But we could see that she and Joseph had completely forgotten us. They were sitting close together on a little bench, though there were plenty of other places to sit. They were also holding hands but I suppose they thought no one could see them in the twilight.
    We all four went back then to the house, and both the brothers Buonaparte said they must be going. But at that Etienne spoke up. "My mother and I would be honoured if the Citizen General and Citizen Joseph Buonaparte would stay to supper with us. It's been a