“You see I am not guillotined; and I shall yet be queen of France!”
Thus not only had the life of the future empress of France, but the fate of that great kingdom itself, depended at one time upon a tiny cabbage-leaf, thrown by the hand of a feeble woman.
After Josephine de Beauharnais was betrothed to General Bonaparte, on one occasion she requested him to accompany her to the residence of M. Raguideau, an old lawyer, who had long been her confidential friend and adviser, that she might inform him of her coming marriage. On arriving at the lawyer’s office, Josephine withdrew her hand from the arm of Bonaparte, and requested him to wait for her in the outer apartment until she had spoken with her old friend alone. Neglecting, however, to close the door which separated the two offices, Bonaparte was able to overhear the conversation between his intended bride and the old lawyer.
“M. Raguideau,” said Madame de Beauharnais, “I have come to inform you of my approaching marriage.”
“And with whom, madame?” exclaimed the astonished lawyer.
“I am about to marry General Bonaparte, sir.”
“General Bonaparte, do you say? Pshaw, madame! a soldier of fortune, who has his way to make.”
“He will make it, my good friend!” replied Josephine, with flushed cheeks.
“When, and how?” was the incredulous retort. “But first, what is he worth at present?”
“Nothing, save his house in the Rue Chantereine.”