Napoleoni had once said that water could quickly restore the passion fatigue had drained from him.
He meant taking baths. Sometimes he would fall asleep in the bath, and wake up full of energy.
Although Paris lay beside the Seine, its citizens faced a severe water shortage. Water carts had to deliver water to them once a day. One barrel cost two sous, amounting to thirty-six francs a year. Paris had neither public fountains nor places for livestock to drink, so naturally there was no way to wash the streets either.
The sanitation department kept the banks of the Seine very clean because they were close to the river. Places a little farther away remained the same as ever. But with Christmas approaching, the roadside trees had acquired many decorations, giving the city a festive atmosphere.
Last Christmas, Napoleon had been assassinated. A water cart loaded with explosives had been lying in wait along the route he was to take. He planned everything carefully, including his travel routes. For a girl who wanted to wander off whenever she spotted something interesting by the roadside, dating Napoleoni was not exactly enjoyable.
Georgiana's mind was full of assassinations and assassins, so she thought it best to avoid complications whenever possible.
The serious drama Gaudin had written was unsuitable for the holidays. The French Grand Theatre was staging an opera adapted from a work on Hinduism published by Lemaire in 1770, The Dancing Girl. Georgiana felt that whenever he saw the actress on the poster, his thoughts seemed to wander somewhere improper, so she rejected their original plan to see the opera.
Perhaps Napoleon had nothing to do with Madame Récamier or Madame Bernadotte, but these actresses had once appeared in the First Consul's bedroom at Tuileries Palace. If it had been someone