Roger knew all about M. Hippolyte Charles. He was just the sort of handsome, amusing blackguard that women adored, and an old flame of Josephine's. When, in the first year of their marriage, she had at last given way to Bonaparte's passionate appeals to join him in Italy, two of the officers who had escorted her had been Junot and Charles. The former had earned her displeasure by making love during the journey to her pretty maid-companion, Louise Compoint, and Roger was inclined to wonder now if it had not been, at least in part, a desire to pay her out that had prompted Junot to show Bonaparte in Egypt the letter reporting her infidelity.
However that might be, dashing Lieutenant Charles had been the life and soul of the party; so much so that soon after its arrival in Italy Bonaparte had found a pretext for forcing him to resign his commission.
That had not worried Hippolyte in the least. He was already performing profitable services for Army contractors, so he became one himself and was said to have since made a fortune.
Eug&ne maintained that his mother had been indiscreet in seeking distraction during her husband's long absence, but certainly no more. Roger did not contradict him but, knowing Josephine's congenital inability to say ' No' to any request and the warmth of her Creole temperament, he had no doubt at all that out at Malmaison she had given Hippolyte the fullest proofs of her affection. She must, of course, have been scared almost out of her wits by the news of Bonaparte's unexpected return and by the thought that his family were certain to tell him about the sort of life she had been leading. Her only hope had been to reach him before they did and do her utmost to re-arouse his old desire for her; but she had missed him and they had got hold of him first.
When Bonaparte, foaming at the mouth with grief and rage at his worst suspicions having been so fully confirmed, had at last got rid of his puritanical mother, his grave-faced brothers and his screaming sisters, he had gone upstairs, rammed all Josephine's belongings into several trunks, had them carried down into the hall for her to collect, then locked himself in his bedroom and refused to see anyone.
When Eugene had finished his woeful tale Roger considered the situation, both from the personal angle and as it might affect his duty as a secret agent of Mr. Pitt. He had had a considerable hand in the intrigue that had led to Bonaparte marrying Josephine. In fact, but for a great service he had rendered her, the marriage would probably never have taken place. She had more than repaid that by unfailing kindness to him and by saving his life in Venice. These ties constituted a bond between them that would prove invaluable should Bonaparte's star continue in the ascendant and he succeed in his ambition to secure a dominant voice in the future direction of affairs in France. On the other hand, if he rid himself of Josephine he would soon, his temperament being what it was, find himself another woman to fill her place. To establish the same sort of relations with a newcomer would at best mean an immense amount of work, or might even prove impossible. It took Roger less than a minute to decide that friendship and duty marched hand in hand. Clearly he must help in any way he could to prevent Bonaparte from divorcing Josephine; so he said to Eugene:
'1 think your mother's future lies not in her hands but in yours. As things are at the moment it is certain that, whether she be guilty or not, your step-father will not listen to her. His family must have poisoned his mind against her to such an extent that nothing she can say will move him. But his weak point is children. He would, I know, greatly like to have one of his own, but so far his attempts in that have been unavailing. Meanwhile, you and your sister partly fill his craving to be a father. He is devoted to you both. My advice, for what it is worth, is that you should return and not only plead your mother's cause but say that, if he abandons her, you and your sister will be driven to despair, because where she goes duty requires you to follow. But you both love him so dearly that to have to leave him would break your hearts.'
Eugene thanked him for his counsel and left the inn. As Roger watched him go, he was far from sanguine about Josephine's chances. He felt that, had La Bellilotte accompanied Bonaparte back to Paris, there would have been no hope at all for Josephine; but after his two-month journey the passionate little Corsican must be in a susceptible,state with regard to women, so it was just on the cards that, if only Eugene could persuade him to see Josephine, she might arouse his old passion for her and win him back.
Early next morning Eugene came to La Belle £toile again. He was tired but beaming, and told Roger about the terrible time he had been through. During his absence the previous evening his mother had got back to Paris, found her trunks in the hall and, overwhelmed with despair, gone to pour out her woe to Madame de Chateau-Renault. Her friend had insisted that she make a light for it and sent her back. Eugene had found her kneeling outside Bonaparte's door, pleading with him, but he had maintained a stony silence. With his fifteen-year-old sister, Hortense, Eugene took his mother's place. Alternately they implored their step-father to have mercy on their mother and themselves, while Josephine lay at the bottom of the stairs weeping hysterically. At last, the children had persuaded Bonaparte to see his wife. Josephine had staggered up on to the landing. The door had opened. The faces of both were streaming with tears. Without a word, they had fallen into one another's arms.
Pleased and relieved at the outcome of this domestic crisis, Roger sallied forth to savour the autumn air of Paris and order some new uniforms. Later in the day he heard that during the morning Bonaparte had made an official call on the Directors. It was reported in the cafes that they had received him coldly and rumoured that Bernadotte had urged that, for having deserted his Army, he should be arrested. But the Moniteur carried heavy headlines announcing his arrival in Paris, and giving an account he had sent them of what he termed his ' greatest victory'.
With splendid effrontery de declared that at Aboukir he had driven thirty thousand Turks into the sea, thus permanently destroying the power of the Sultan to make any further attempt to regain Egypt. He stated that, but for this achievement, he would never have left his beloved Army; but it was in good health and splendid spirits so, with Egypt secure, he had felt it his duty to return and place his sword at the disposal of the Government against the enemies of France nearer home.
It was the first news to be given out in France about the battle of Aboukir, and Paris was thrilled by it. For so many years the Parisians had been fed on accounts of victories in Europe, or defeats that had been more or less covered up as brilliant strategic withdrawals, that such news meant little to them. But the picture conveyed of a few thousand Frenchmen, far from home, triumphing over ten times their number of ferocious barbarians was something new about which to cheer in earnest. Brue's able generalship in Holland and the fact that Massena had in Switzerland saved France from invasion by a Russian horde were, in a moment, forgotten. Bonaparte was once more the hero of the hour, the idol of the populace.
Roger felt that he had good reason to be pleased with things. The master to whom he had attached himself might be a liar and an opportunist, but he was in most ways a far finer man than the corrupt and inefficient politicians to whom he was secretly opposed; and he was more than holding his own against them. Josephine, meanwhile, had been reinstated. She was once more being hailed by the people as ' Our Lady of Victories' and Roger knew he could count on her friendship.
His own position left nothing to be desired. He had now been a member of the great man's Staff for well over two years and had become one of his intimates. That he did not fully deserve his companions' belief in his bravery he was well aware, as several of his exploits had been faked. But everyone believed that he had escaped from the British after the battle of the Nile, escaped from slavery in Tripoli, escaped again from Djezzar during the siege of Acre and brought with him a Turkish standard. That he had actually come through several desperate situations by his own courage and resource was beside the point. He had been cited in an Order of the Day by Bonaparte, after personally defending him near Venice, and had been presented with a sword of honour. He had again been cited in an Order of the Day, after rejoining Bonaparte outside Acre, and was now known in the Army as ' le brave BrecuConning over his record to himself, he felt that even the astute Talleyrand must now be convinced that at heart he was truly French. It had needed only that to make his position unassailable.