Napoleon's aide led Georgiana to the study of the successive Archbishops of Lyon.
Napoleon was standing beside a walnut desk with his back to her. Paper balls littered the floor. Behind the desk was a fireplace, its flames flickering and illuminating almost the entire writing desk. A large candlestick stood on the desk, beside it the sword inlaid with the Regent Diamond. There were no candles elsewhere in the room, and everything beyond was shrouded in darkness.
He seemed to be reading a document and was completely unaware that Georgiana had entered, so she could only stand there and wait for him to turn around.
After quite a while, he finally turned to look at her. His gaze was rather frightening.
Feeling awkward, she wanted to say something polite, but then he smiled—a faintly mocking smile.
"You think I wouldn't dare have you shot?"
"What law did I break?" she asked stiffly.
He directly drew the sword inlaid with the Regent Diamond.
The gleaming blade and the metallic scrape of steel leaving its sheath left her frozen, but the sword did not strike her. It merely slashed apart her clothes.
He cut slowly, as if enjoying the process, yet also taking care not to hurt her. Only when her clothing had become utterly shredded did he lower the sword and look at her with arrogant insolence.
"Beg me to forgive you," he said as if condescending to grant her the favor.
"Begging you would be useless." Georgiana's voice was icy. "It would only make me look lowly."
"You think you aren't lowly?" he taunted sarcastically.
"When everyone tells you the truth, they cease to fear you. If your difficulty is resisting the temptation to lose yourself in others' flattery, then mine is enduring people's lack of reverence. At least I'm