After slipping away from the reception, they changed into civilian clothes.
There were still plenty of people dressing up and going out on Halloween night. Though they were not like the "little wizards" from the daytime, carrying jack-o'-lanterns around to beg for candy, they still dressed as ghosts and monsters to attend the ball.
They put on crude masks and walked through the old streets of the Middle Ages under the protection of Fiegel, Rapp, and four other guards. Her original plan had been to go to the Old Market Square for the party and dancing.
Instead, they arrived before an old house. More precisely, it was Corneille's former residence, not far from the courthouse—perhaps because Corneille had once served as the French Navy's lawyer in Rouen.
He had held that post for twenty years. Since he had never been obsessed with power, he spent his ample leisure time writing. Unexpectedly, it was his side pursuit that made him remembered by the world and drew the attention of Cardinal Richelieu.
The place was now preserved as a museum. Yet Bonaparte did not have the guards pry open the lock. Instead, he had someone fetch the caretaker and the key. While they waited, they could only stand at the entrance and listen to music drifting over from the square in the distance.
"Why are you unhappy?"
He asked as if he did not already know.
Georgiana looked at him coldly.
Corneille excelled at tragedies. What did it mean for joy to turn into sorrow? That was the perfect description of her current state.
"A king should not like comedies. He has no need to be amused," Bonaparte said. "A good tragedy helps us grow. The highest form of tragedy is the school of great men."
"Do you always bring girls to