The Man of Destiny

Barras, Barras I⁠—Turning very threateningly to her, his face darkening. Take care, take care: do you hear? You may go too far. Lady Innocently turning her face to him. What’s the matter? Napoleon What are you hinting at? Who is this woman? Lady Meeting his angry searching gaze with tranquil indifference as she sits looking up at him with her right arm resting lightly along the back of her chair, and one knee crossed over the other. A vain, silly, extravagant creature, with a very able and ambitious husband who knows her through and through⁠—knows that she has lied to him about her age, her income, her social position, about everything that silly women lie about⁠—knows that she is incapable of fidelity to any principle or any person; and yet could not help loving her⁠—could not help his man’s instinct to make use of her for his own advancement with Barras. Napoleon In a stealthy, coldly furious whisper. This is your revenge, you she cat, for having had to give me the letters. Lady Nonsense! Or do you mean that you are that sort of man? Napoleon Exasperated, clasps his hands behind him, his fingers twitching, and says, as he walks irritably away from her to the fireplace. This woman will drive me out of my senses. To her. Begone. Lady Seated immovably. Not without that letter. Napoleon Begone, I tell you. Walking from the fireplace to the vineyard and back to the table. You shall have no letter. I don’t like you. You’re a detestable woman, and as ugly as Satan. I don’t choose to be pestered by strange women. Be off. He turns his back on her. In quiet amusement, she leans her cheek on her hand and laughs at him. He turns again, angrily mocking her. Ha! ha! ha! What are you laughing at? Lady At you, General. I have often seen persons of your sex getting into a pet and behaving like children; but I never saw a really great man do it before. Napoleon Brutally, flinging the words in her face. Pooh: flattery! flattery! coarse, impudent flattery! Lady Springing up with a bright flush in her cheeks. Oh, you are too bad. Keep your letters. Read the story of your own dishonor in them; and much good may they do you. Goodbye. She goes indignantly towards the inner door. Napoleon My own⁠—! Stop. Come back. Come back, I order you. She proudly disregards his savagely peremptory tone and continues on her way to the door. He rushes at her; seizes her by the wrist; and drags her back. Now, what do you mean? Explain. Explain, I tell you, or⁠—Threatening her. She looks at him with unflinching defiance. Rrrr! you obstinate devil, you. Why can’t you answer a civil question? Lady Deeply offended by his violence. Why do you ask me? You have the explanation. Napoleon Where? Lady Pointing to the letters on the table. There. You have only to read it. He snatches the packet up, hesitates; looks at her suspiciously; and throws it down again. Napoleon You seem to have forgotten your solicitude for the honor of your old friend. Lady She runs no risk now: she does not quite understand her husband. Napoleon I am to read the letter, then? He stretches out his hand as if to take up the packet again, with his eye on her. Lady I do not see how you can very well avoid doing so now. He instantly withdraws his hand. Oh, don’t be afraid. You will find many interesting things in it. Napoleon For instance? Lady For instance, a duel⁠—with Barras, a domestic scene, a broken household, a public scandal, a checked career, all sorts of things. Napoleon Hm! He looks at her, takes up the packet and looks at it, pursing his lips and balancing it in his hand; looks at her again; passes the packet into his left hand and puts it behind his back, raising his right to scratch the back of his head as he turns and goes up to the edge of the vineyard, where he stands for a moment looking out into the vines, deep in thought. The Lady watches him in silence, somewhat slightingly. Suddenly he turns and comes back again, full of force and decision. I grant your request, madame. Your courage and resolution deserve to succeed. Take the letters for which you have fought so well; and remember henceforth that you found the vile, vulgar Corsican adventurer as generous to the vanquished after the battle as he was resolute in the face of the enemy before it. He offers her the packet. Lady Without taking it, looking hard at him. What are you at now, I wonder? He dashes the packet furiously to the floor. Aha! I’ve spoiled that attitude, I think. She makes him a pretty mocking curtsey. Napoleon Snatching it up again. Will you take the letters and begone advancing and thrusting them upon her? Lady Escaping round the table. No: I don’t want letters. Napoleon Ten minutes ago, nothing else would satisfy you. Lady Keeping the table carefully between them. Ten minutes ago you had not insulted me past all bearing. Napoleon I⁠—swallowing his spleen I apologize. Lady Coolly. Thanks. With forced politeness he offers her the packet across the table. She retreats a step out of its reach and says, But don’t you want to know whether the Austrians are at Mantua or Peschiera? Napoleon I have already told you that I can conquer my enemies without the aid of spies, madame. Lady And the letter! don’t you want to read that? Napoleon You have said that it is not addressed to me. I am not in the habit of reading other people’s letters. He again offers the packet. Lady In that case there can be no objection to your keeping it. All I wanted was to prevent your reading it. Cheerfully. Good afternoon, General. She turns coolly towards the inner