Read Online Désirée by Annemarie Selinko - Free Book Online
Authors: Annemarie Selinko
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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we seem. Then I imagine that we can hear the brass and the wild flowers breathing. Now and then a bird somewhere sings a melancholy song. The moon hangs in the sky like a golden lantern, and while I look at the slumbering meadow I think, Dear Lord, let this evening last forever, let me go on forever close to him. For, although I've read that there are no supernatural powers and the Government in Paris has set up an altar to Human Reason, when I am very sad or very happy I always think, Dear Lord. . . .
Yesterday Napoleone unexpectedly asked, "Are you never afraid of your destiny, Eugénie.?" When we are alone with the sleeping meadow, sometimes he uses the familiar tu, although not even betrothed lovers or married couples do that nowadays.
" Afraid of my destiny? No—" I shook my head—"I am not afraid. No one knows what's in store for him. Why should one be afraid of what one doesn't know?"
" Its strange that most people say they don't know their destiny," he said. His face was very pale in the moonlight, his eyes stared far away. "I am my destiny. I know my fate."
"And are you afraid of it?" I was amazed.
He seemed to think it over. Then quickly, in jerks, "No. I know I shall do great things. I was born to build states and to rule them. I am one of the men who make world history."
I stared at him, dumfounded. It had never occurred to me that anyone could think or say such things. Suddenly I laughed. At that he drew back and his face was distorted. He turned on me.
"You laugh, Eugénie.?" he almost whispered. "Eugénie., you laugh?"
"Forgive me—please forgive me," I said. "It was only because—I was afraid of your face, it was so white in the moonlight, and—so strange. When I'm afraid, I always try—to laugh."
"I don't want to shock you, Eugénie.," he said, and his voice was tender. "I can understand your being frightened. Frightened—of my great destiny."
We were silent again for a while. Then a thought occurred to me. "Well, I too shall make world history, Napoleone!"
He looked at me in astonishment, but I went right on. "World history consists, after all, of the destinies of all people, doesn't it? Not only men who sign death warrants or know where to put cannon and how to fire them make history. I think that other people, I mean those who are beheaded or shot at, and—every man or woman who lives and hopes and loves and dies makes world history."
He nodded slowly. "Quite right, my Eugénie. But I shall influence all those millions of destinies of which you speak. Do you believe in me, Eugénie.? Do you believe in me, whatever happens?"
His face was so near, so near that I trembled and involuntarily closed my eyes. Then I felt his mouth hard on my lips. Suddenly—I don't know how it happened, I knew Julie wouldn't approve and it was certainly not what I meant to do, but—my lips parted.
That night, long after Julie had put out the candle, I couldn't get to sleep. Julie's voice came out of the dark: "Can't you sleep either, little one?"
"No. It's so hot in the room."
"I've something I must tell you," Julie whispered. "A tremendous secret, you mustn't tell anyone. Anyhow, not till tomorrow afternoon. Will you promise?"
"Yes, I promise," I said, wildly excited.
"Tomorrow afternoon, M. Joseph Buonaparte is coming to speak to Mama."
I was astonished. "Speak to Mama? Whatever about?"
Julie was annoyed. "You certainly are stupid! About us, naturally, about him and me. He wants—well, what a child you are! He wants to sue for my hand!"
I sat up in bed. "Julie! That means you are betrothed!"
"Sh! Not so loud! Tomorrow afternoon I shall be betrothed. If Mama makes no objection."
I leapt out of bed and ran over to her, but I bumped into a chair and hurt my toes. I yelled.
"Sh, Eugénie.! You'll wake the whole house." But I kept going. Quickly I snuggled under the covers and excitedly shook her shoulder. I didn't know how to show her how glad I was.
"Now you are a fiancée, nearly a bride. Has he
Yesterday Napoleone unexpectedly asked, "Are you never afraid of your destiny, Eugénie.?" When we are alone with the sleeping meadow, sometimes he uses the familiar tu, although not even betrothed lovers or married couples do that nowadays.
" Afraid of my destiny? No—" I shook my head—"I am not afraid. No one knows what's in store for him. Why should one be afraid of what one doesn't know?"
" Its strange that most people say they don't know their destiny," he said. His face was very pale in the moonlight, his eyes stared far away. "I am my destiny. I know my fate."
"And are you afraid of it?" I was amazed.
He seemed to think it over. Then quickly, in jerks, "No. I know I shall do great things. I was born to build states and to rule them. I am one of the men who make world history."
I stared at him, dumfounded. It had never occurred to me that anyone could think or say such things. Suddenly I laughed. At that he drew back and his face was distorted. He turned on me.
"You laugh, Eugénie.?" he almost whispered. "Eugénie., you laugh?"
"Forgive me—please forgive me," I said. "It was only because—I was afraid of your face, it was so white in the moonlight, and—so strange. When I'm afraid, I always try—to laugh."
"I don't want to shock you, Eugénie.," he said, and his voice was tender. "I can understand your being frightened. Frightened—of my great destiny."
We were silent again for a while. Then a thought occurred to me. "Well, I too shall make world history, Napoleone!"
He looked at me in astonishment, but I went right on. "World history consists, after all, of the destinies of all people, doesn't it? Not only men who sign death warrants or know where to put cannon and how to fire them make history. I think that other people, I mean those who are beheaded or shot at, and—every man or woman who lives and hopes and loves and dies makes world history."
He nodded slowly. "Quite right, my Eugénie. But I shall influence all those millions of destinies of which you speak. Do you believe in me, Eugénie.? Do you believe in me, whatever happens?"
His face was so near, so near that I trembled and involuntarily closed my eyes. Then I felt his mouth hard on my lips. Suddenly—I don't know how it happened, I knew Julie wouldn't approve and it was certainly not what I meant to do, but—my lips parted.
That night, long after Julie had put out the candle, I couldn't get to sleep. Julie's voice came out of the dark: "Can't you sleep either, little one?"
"No. It's so hot in the room."
"I've something I must tell you," Julie whispered. "A tremendous secret, you mustn't tell anyone. Anyhow, not till tomorrow afternoon. Will you promise?"
"Yes, I promise," I said, wildly excited.
"Tomorrow afternoon, M. Joseph Buonaparte is coming to speak to Mama."
I was astonished. "Speak to Mama? Whatever about?"
Julie was annoyed. "You certainly are stupid! About us, naturally, about him and me. He wants—well, what a child you are! He wants to sue for my hand!"
I sat up in bed. "Julie! That means you are betrothed!"
"Sh! Not so loud! Tomorrow afternoon I shall be betrothed. If Mama makes no objection."
I leapt out of bed and ran over to her, but I bumped into a chair and hurt my toes. I yelled.
"Sh, Eugénie.! You'll wake the whole house." But I kept going. Quickly I snuggled under the covers and excitedly shook her shoulder. I didn't know how to show her how glad I was.
"Now you are a fiancée, nearly a bride. Has he
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