“But what? Come, I made a clean breast of it to you; do you do likewise.”
“But if the Directory orders me to act, I shall march against the agitators, whoever they may be.”
“Ah! So you think I am ambitious?” asked Bonaparte.
“I suspect as much,” retorted Bernadotte, smiling.
“Faith,” said Bonaparte, “you don’t know me. I have had enough of politics, and what I want is peace. Ah, my dear fellow! Malmaison and fifty thousand a year, and I’d willingly resign all the rest. You don’t believe me. Well, I invite you to come and see me there, three months hence, and if you like pastorals, we’ll do one together. Now, au revoir! I leave you with Joseph, and, in spite of your refusal, I shall expect you at the Tuileries. Hark! Our friends are becoming impatient.”
They were shouting: “Vive Bonaparte!”
Bernadotte paled slightly. Bonaparte noticed this pallor.
“Ah, ha,” he muttered. “Jealous! I was mistaken; he is not a Spartan, he is an Athenian!”
As Bonaparte had said, his friends were growing impatient. During the hour that had elapsed since the decree had been posted, the salon, the anterooms, and the courtyard had been crowded. The first person Bonaparte met at the head of the staircase was his compatriot, Colonel Sebastiani, then commanding the 9th Dragoons.
“Ah! is that you, Sebastiani?” said Bonaparte. “Where are your men?”