Pomona noticed that a tassel had been tied to Napoleon's Mamluk sword.
The tassel was very ornate, though its purpose was much the same as the plush charms girls hung from their backpacks in the twentieth century: it was merely decorative. Its fringe swayed gently with his steps, making for a very pleasing sight.
Napoleon was not wearing his uniform or his bicorne. He wore an everyday suit of black velvet, with gold embroidery along the seams, looking both magnificent and martial.
Pomona had never realized that black and gold could look so good together. As he walked, he took snuff, his gleaming boots striking the mirrorlike floor of the Tuileries Palace with a pleasant sound.
He did not go to the Council of State's grand chamber, but to his private study instead. When the soldier guarding the door opened it for him, several people were already waiting inside. These middle-aged and elderly men, some potbellied and some gray-haired, bowed to him. He accepted it without evasion, then led them next door to Marie Antoinette's small drawing room.
"Please, gentlemen, have a seat." He was the first to enter the famous "haunted house."
The wealthy men did not dare enter, but Pomona went in.
"If you have nothing to hide, there's no need to be afraid," Pomona said somewhat impulsively behind Napoleon.
Seeing that even a young woman had entered the "haunted house," and that it was broad daylight, the wealthy men followed her in. Yet they did not seem to regard it as a drawing room. They remained near the doorway, as if ready to flee at any moment.
"This is Julian Ouvrard, France's renowned financier, and Professor Van Laiberg. Though I never attended university, these two gentlemen both believe I deserve a doctorate in law. The others are