Napoleon wore a black silk pouch around his neck, containing poison that could take his life in a short time. He usually hid it beneath his clothes, keeping his collar buttoned tightly so that it would not normally be seen.
But when he took off his clothes, the pouch around his neck became visible. After he resumed the rising ceremony, he would place it in the silver box Marchand used while shaving him when he met with his ministers, then put it back around his neck after they had left.
But sometimes he forgot. On the silk-covered bed in the Tuileries Palace, she could feel both the smooth texture of the silk beneath her and the tingling sensation caused by that black ribbon swaying back and forth along her spine.
He seemed to know that. The last time, he had made her stay in the barracks at Vincennes Park and did not fetch her back until much later.
She had been furious then and deliberately said some cutting things, making him look deeply hurt. Her conscience could not bear it, so she went to his bedroom that night. Then his hand stroked along her spine, just as the silk pouch containing poison did when it rubbed against her back.
He was always afraid there was poison in his food. Apart from chewing and swallowing without hesitation the dishes his mother made, he treated all other food with extreme caution. As a result, he could not enjoy eating. He would leave halfway through a meal, then go make himself vomit.
Josephine had not noticed this. In the past, whenever she dined out, she would often run into Bonaparte. Back then, he not only had time, but was also an insignificant figure, with no need to worry that someone might poison his