ON TERRIBLE AUGUST TENTH
Jean speedily availed himself of the invitation from Bonaparte to visit him. A few evenings after June twentieth, he went to the Rue Cléry, ascended to a room over the tobacconist's shop, and found Bonaparte reading by the light of a single candle. The room was empty of all but the barest necessities, and it was evident that its occupant was having a hard struggle to make ends meet. But Bonaparte seemed pleased at the visit of his new friend, and the two were soon engaged in lively conversation.
That night Jean heard the story of this young man's life. He told the eager, sympathetic lad how he had been born of a fine family in Corsica; how his father had lost all in the vain struggle for Corsican liberty; how he, Napoleon, a poor shy, proud boy had been sent to the military school at Brienne where he suffered agonies of wounded pride among his richer classmates; how at fifteen he had spent a year at the military school of Paris, suffering similar humiliation because of his poverty, and at sixteen was appointed second lieutenant of a regiment of artillery at Valence; how, soon after, his father died, leaving practically on his shoulders the responsibility of a mother, four brothers and three sisters! how he left the army and for a time devoted himself to straightening out his family affairs; how he had returned to the army, but encouraged by the breaking out of the Revolution in 1789, he had again attempted to aid in freeing Corsica, and for this reason had lost his place in the French army. Now he was hoping to regain it, but in the present disturbed condition of affairs, could obtain little attention from the authorities. In the meantime he was struggling along, poor as a church mouse, making the barest kind of a living by doing a little writing. All this information was not imparted at once, but came out by degrees in the course of their conversation. Jean drank it in with intense interest.
"But the tide will turn!" ended Bonaparte. "Something tells me that I was born under a fortunate star. Things will be different some day!" And catching the proud flash from his wonderful eyes, Jean had no doubt of it!
As the days went on, Jean was drawn by an irresistible fascination more and more into the society of "the thin young man," as he often spoke of him to Mère Clouet and Yvonne. One evening, as he ran up the stairs of Rue Cléry, number 548, Napoleon's first greeting was:
"I've something to tell you that will interest you, Jean! I've been to the Jacobins again. There's a bloody insurrection planned for August tenth! They are going to mob the palace, dethrone the King, seize the Dauphin, and make all the royal family prisoners. Santerre is at the head of it, and Danton, of course, at the bottom! You'd better look sharp for your royal friends!"
"Oh!" said Jean thankfully, "I'm so glad you warned me. I shall be there, at least, and see what I can do to help them! I can't of course do much, but—who knows!"
"But, see here, my lad," answered Bonaparte, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder, "you must not go alone! You are hardly more than a child yet, and these are perilous times. I'd be anxious for your safety. Promise me that you will not go without me! Together, we may be a protection for each other." Jean gave his word, deeply touched that his new friend should exhibit such thoughtfulness for his welfare.
Meanwhile, gloomy days had ensued for Louis Charles, royal Dauphin of France. His little garden where he longed to dig among the flower-beds and romp with Moufflet was forbidden him. Once only since the hateful day of June twentieth, he had gone there accompanied by his mother. But the shouts and threats of the crowd behind the fence, quickly drove them into the palace again for safety.