campaign in Italy were excellent, discussed them with the Minister of War, Carnot, and asked him for permission to entrust the preparations to Napoleone. Napoleone says that Carnot gets furious whenever Robespierre interferes with his Ministry, because it's really none of his business. But nobody dares to contradict Robespierre, because he has only to sign a warrant and off one goes to the guillotine. That's why Carnot received Napoleone with such a show of friendliness and accepted his Italian plans. "First," said Carnot, "inspect our fortresses in the south; I will give your ideas careful attention, Citizen General." But Napoleone is quite sure that his Plans lie pigeonholed in the Ministry of War. Robespierre, however, will soon arrange, Joseph thinks, for Napoleone to be given the supreme command in Italy.
Etienne and all our friends hate this Robespierre. But they don't say so aloud; that would be too dangerous. It is said th at Robespierre has made the members of the Revolutionary Tribunal give him secret reports on the opinions of all the officials in the State service. Even the private life of every single citizen, they say, is watched. Robespierre has declared that every genuine Republican has a duty to live a moral life and to despise luxury. Recently, he actually had all the brothels in Paris closed. I asked Etienne whether brothels were a luxury, but he said angrily that I mustn't talk about such things. And no dancing in the streets is allowed any longer, though that was a pleasure everybody enjoyed on public holidays. Etienne has absolutely forbidden us ever to criticize Robespierre in front of the two Buonapartes.
Etienne talks to Napoleone of practically nothing but the Italian plans. "It is our sacred duty," says Napoleone, "to instill into all the European peoples the idea of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. And if necessary—with the help of cannon!" I always listen to these talks just to be near Napoleone, though they weary me terribly. The worst is when Napoleone begins to read the Handbook of Modern Artillery to my brother. That sometimes happens and Etienne, that dolt, imagines that he understands it a bit. I think Napoleone is a complete spellbinder.
But when we are alone he never talks about cannon. And we are often alone. After supper Julie always says, "Don't you think we ought to take our guests into the garden for a bit, Mama?" Mama says, "Go along, children!" and we four, Joseph and Napoleone and Julie and I, disappear in the direction of the summer house. But before we get there, Napoleone generally says, "Eugénie., what do you say to a race? Let's see which of us can get to the hedge first!" Then I lift up my skirt and Julie cries, "Ready—set—go!" and Napoleone and I run like two possessed for the hedge. While I run to it with my hair flying and my heart beating wildly and a stitch in my side, Joseph and Julie disappear into the summer house.
Sometimes Napoleone wins the race, and sometimes I do; but if I get there first, I know that Napoleone has purposely let me win. The hedge is just chest-high. Usually, we lean close together against the foliage; I rest my arms on it and look up at the stars; and then Na poleone and I have long talks. Sometimes we talk about The Sorrows of Werther, a very popular novel by an unknown German writer named Goethe. I had to hide the book, because Mama won't let me read love stories. I didn't like it much, anyway. It is the story, sad beyond belief, of a young man who shoots himself because the young lady whom he loves marries his best friend.
Napoleone is quite enthusiastic about the book. I asked him whether he could imagine himself committing suicide because he was crossed in love. "No, because a girl whom I love will marry no other," he said and laughed. Then he became suddenly serious and looked at me, and I quickly changed the subject.
Often we just lean against the hedge and watch the quiet meadow beyond. The less we talk, the nearer together
Etienne and all our friends hate this Robespierre. But they don't say so aloud; that would be too dangerous. It is said th at Robespierre has made the members of the Revolutionary Tribunal give him secret reports on the opinions of all the officials in the State service. Even the private life of every single citizen, they say, is watched. Robespierre has declared that every genuine Republican has a duty to live a moral life and to despise luxury. Recently, he actually had all the brothels in Paris closed. I asked Etienne whether brothels were a luxury, but he said angrily that I mustn't talk about such things. And no dancing in the streets is allowed any longer, though that was a pleasure everybody enjoyed on public holidays. Etienne has absolutely forbidden us ever to criticize Robespierre in front of the two Buonapartes.
Etienne talks to Napoleone of practically nothing but the Italian plans. "It is our sacred duty," says Napoleone, "to instill into all the European peoples the idea of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. And if necessary—with the help of cannon!" I always listen to these talks just to be near Napoleone, though they weary me terribly. The worst is when Napoleone begins to read the Handbook of Modern Artillery to my brother. That sometimes happens and Etienne, that dolt, imagines that he understands it a bit. I think Napoleone is a complete spellbinder.
But when we are alone he never talks about cannon. And we are often alone. After supper Julie always says, "Don't you think we ought to take our guests into the garden for a bit, Mama?" Mama says, "Go along, children!" and we four, Joseph and Napoleone and Julie and I, disappear in the direction of the summer house. But before we get there, Napoleone generally says, "Eugénie., what do you say to a race? Let's see which of us can get to the hedge first!" Then I lift up my skirt and Julie cries, "Ready—set—go!" and Napoleone and I run like two possessed for the hedge. While I run to it with my hair flying and my heart beating wildly and a stitch in my side, Joseph and Julie disappear into the summer house.
Sometimes Napoleone wins the race, and sometimes I do; but if I get there first, I know that Napoleone has purposely let me win. The hedge is just chest-high. Usually, we lean close together against the foliage; I rest my arms on it and look up at the stars; and then Na poleone and I have long talks. Sometimes we talk about The Sorrows of Werther, a very popular novel by an unknown German writer named Goethe. I had to hide the book, because Mama won't let me read love stories. I didn't like it much, anyway. It is the story, sad beyond belief, of a young man who shoots himself because the young lady whom he loves marries his best friend.
Napoleone is quite enthusiastic about the book. I asked him whether he could imagine himself committing suicide because he was crossed in love. "No, because a girl whom I love will marry no other," he said and laughed. Then he became suddenly serious and looked at me, and I quickly changed the subject.
Often we just lean against the hedge and watch the quiet meadow beyond. The less we talk, the nearer together
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