The Boy Life of Napoleon, Afterwards Emperor of the French Part 14

It was this way--But I had better tell you the story in a new chapter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A TROUBLE OVER POCKET MONEY.

It was the twelfth of June in the year 1785 that a group of scholars was standing, during the recess hour, in a corner of the military school of Paris.

They were all boys; but they a.s.sumed the manners and gave themselves the airs of princes of the blood.

"Gentlemen," said one who seemed to be most prominent in the group, "I have called you together on a most important matter. Tomorrow is old Bauer's birthday. I propose that, as is our custom, we take some notice of it. What do you say to giving him a little supper, in the name of the school?"

"A good idea; a capital idea, d'Hebonville!" exclaimed most of the boys, in ready acquiescence.

"A gluttonous idea, I call it; and an expensive one," said one upon the outer edge of the circle, in a sharply critical tone. "Ah. our little joker has a word to say," exclaimed one of the boys sarcastically, drawing back, and pus.h.i.+ng the speaker to the front; "hear him."

"Oh, now, Napoleon! don't object," young Alexander des Mazes said. "Did you not hear why d'Hebonville proposed the supper? It is to honor the German teacher's birthday."

"Oh, he heard it fast enough, des Mazes," rejoined d'Hebonville. "That is what makes him so cross."

"Why do you say that?" Napoleon demanded.

"You do not like the plan because it is to honor old Bauer; for you do not like him," d'Hebonville replied. "If, now, it were a supper to the history teacher, you would agree, I am sure. For de l'Equille praises you on 'the profundity of your reflections and the sagacity of your judgment.' Oh, I've read his notes; or you would agree if it were Domaisen, the rhetoric teacher, who is much impressed--those are his very words, are they not, gentlemen?--with 'your powers of generalization, which' he says, are even 'as granite heated at a volcano.' But as it is only dear old Bauer"--and d'Hebonville shrugged his shoulders significantly. "Well, and what about 'dear old Bauer,' as you call him?" cried Napoleon; "finish, sir; finish, I say."

"I will tell you what Father Bauer says of you, Napoleon," said des Mazes laughingly, as he laid his arm familiarly about Napoleon's neck; "he says he does not think much of you, because you make no progress in your German; and as old Bauer thinks the world moves only for Germans, he has nothing good to say of one who makes no mark in his dear language. 'Ach!' says old Bauer, 'your Napoleon Bonaparte will never be anything but a fool. He knows no German.'"

The boys laughed loudly at des Mazes's mimicry of the German teacher's manner and speech. But Napoleon smiled with the air of one who felt himself superior to the teacher of German.

"Now, I should say," said Philip Mabille, "that here is the very reason why Napoleon should not refuse to join us. It will be--what are the words?--'heaping coals of fire' on old Bauer's head."

"That might be so," Napoleon agreed, in a better humor. "But why give him a feast? Let us--I'll tell you--let us give him a spectacle. A battle, perhaps."

"In which you should be a general, I suppose, as you were in that snow--ball fight at Brienne, of which we have heard once or twice," said d'Hebonville sarcastically.

"And why not?" asked Napoleon haughtily.

"Or the death of Caesar, like the tableaux we arranged at Brienne,"

suggested Demetrius Comneno enthusiastically.

"In which your great Napoleon played Brutus, I suppose," said d'Hebonville. "No, no; the birthday of old Bauer is not a solemn occasion to demand a battle or a spectacle; something much more simple will do for a professor of German. Let us make it a good collation.

There are fifteen of us in his cla.s.s. If each one of us contributes five dollars, we could get up quite a feast."

"Oh, see here, d'Hebonville!" cried Mabille; "think a little. Five dollars is a good deal for some of us. Not all of the fifteen can afford so much. I don't believe I could; nor you, Napoleon, could you?"

Napoleon's face grew sober, but he said nothing.

"Oh, well! let only those pay then who can," said d'Hebonville.

"Who, then, will take part in your feast?" demanded Napoleon.

"Why, all of us, of course," replied d'Hebonville.

"At the feast, or in giving the money," queried Mabille.

"At the feast, to be sure," d'Hebonville answered.

"Come, now; we should have no feeling in this matter," cried des Mazes.

"We will decide for you, Mabille."

"Old Bauer must not dream that there are any of his cla.s.s who do not share in the matter," said Comneno. "That would be showing a preference, and a preference is never fair."

"And do you wish, then," said Mabille, "that old Bauer should be under obligation to me, for example, who can pay little or nothing toward the feast?"

"Certainly; to you as much as to the richest among us," said d'Hebonville.

"Bah!" cried Napoleon. "That would imply a sentiment of grat.i.tude toward my masters; and I, for one, have none to this Professor Bauer."

"Some one to see Napoleon Bonaparte," said a porter of the school, appearing at the door of the schoolroom. "He waits in the parlor."

Without a word Napoleon left his school-fellows; but they looked after him with faces expressive of disapproval or disappointment.

The disagreeable impression produced by the discussion in which he had been taking part still remained with Napoleon as he entered the parlor to meet his visitor. It was the friend of his family, Monsieur de Permon.

Napoleon, indeed, was scarce able to greet his visitor pleasantly. But Monsieur de Permon, without appearing to notice the boy's ill-humor, greeted him pleasantly, and said,--

"Madame de Permon and I are on our way to the Academy of St. Cyr, to see your sister Eliza. Would you not like to go with us, Napoleon? I have permission for you to be absent"

Napoleon brightened at this invitation, and gladly accepted it. The two proceeded to the carriage, in which Madame Permon was awaiting them; and the three were soon on the road to the school of St. Cyr, in which, as I have told you, Eliza Bonaparte was a scholar.

They were ushered into the parlor, and Eliza was summoned. She soon appeared; but she entered the room slowly and disconsolately; her eyes were red with crying. Eliza was evidently in trouble.

"Why, Eliza, my dear child, what is the matter?" Madame Permon exclaimed, drawing the girl toward her. "You have been crying. Have they been scolding you here?"

"No, madame," Eliza replied in a low tone.

"Are you afraid they may? Have you trouble with your lessons?" persisted Madame Permon.

With the same dejected air, Eliza answered as before, "No, madame."

"But what, then, is the matter, my dear?" cried Madame Permon; "such red eyes mean much crying."

Eliza was silent.

"Come, Eliza!" Napoleon demanded with an elder brother's authority; "speak! answer Madame here What is the matter?"

But even to her brother, Eliza made no reply.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _"'Come, Eliza! What is the matter?' demanded Napoleon."_]