isabelle.mccurine@wedding.co.il
12-02-2007, 08:40 AM
her from
marrying this young, penniless general; in vain did they remind her that
he might be killed in the very next battle, and that she might thus
again be left a reduced widow. Josephine shook her handsome curls with
a peculiar smile. Perhaps she was thinking of the prophecy of the
negress at Martinique; perhaps she had read in the fiery glances of
Bonaparte's eye, and on his broad, thoughtful brow, that he might be the
very man to bring that prophecy to its consummation; perhaps she loved
him ardently enough to prefer an humble lot, when shared with him, to
any richer or more brilliant alliance. The representations of her
friends did not frighten her away, and she remained firm in her
determination to become the wife of the young general, poor as he was.
Their wedding-day was fixed, and both hastened with joyous impatience to
make their modest little preparations for their new housekeeping
establishment. Yet Bonaparte had not been able to complete his dream of
happiness; he possessed neither house nor carriage, and Josephine, too,
was without an equipage.
Thus both of them often had to content themselves with going on foot
through the streets, and it may be that, in this halcyon period of their
felicity, they regarded the circumstance rather as a favor than as a
scurvy trick of Fortune. Their tender and confidential communications
were not disturbed by the loud rattle of the wheels, and they were not
obliged to interrupt their sweet interchange of sentiment while getting
into and out of a vehicle. Arm-in-arm, they strolled together along the
promenades, he smiling proudly when the passers-by broke out in
spontaneous exclamations of delight at Josephine's beauty, and she happy
and exultant as she overhear
marrying this young, penniless general; in vain did they remind her that
he might be killed in the very next battle, and that she might thus
again be left a reduced widow. Josephine shook her handsome curls with
a peculiar smile. Perhaps she was thinking of the prophecy of the
negress at Martinique; perhaps she had read in the fiery glances of
Bonaparte's eye, and on his broad, thoughtful brow, that he might be the
very man to bring that prophecy to its consummation; perhaps she loved
him ardently enough to prefer an humble lot, when shared with him, to
any richer or more brilliant alliance. The representations of her
friends did not frighten her away, and she remained firm in her
determination to become the wife of the young general, poor as he was.
Their wedding-day was fixed, and both hastened with joyous impatience to
make their modest little preparations for their new housekeeping
establishment. Yet Bonaparte had not been able to complete his dream of
happiness; he possessed neither house nor carriage, and Josephine, too,
was without an equipage.
Thus both of them often had to content themselves with going on foot
through the streets, and it may be that, in this halcyon period of their
felicity, they regarded the circumstance rather as a favor than as a
scurvy trick of Fortune. Their tender and confidential communications
were not disturbed by the loud rattle of the wheels, and they were not
obliged to interrupt their sweet interchange of sentiment while getting
into and out of a vehicle. Arm-in-arm, they strolled together along the
promenades, he smiling proudly when the passers-by broke out in
spontaneous exclamations of delight at Josephine's beauty, and she happy
and exultant as she overhear