Heading to France

Just as Joseph had expected, he successfully found Napoleon in that cave. When he arrived, the little troublemaker was sitting on a rock, staring blankly at the sea shrouded in mist and rain.

"My foolish brother, what are you daydreaming about over there?" Joseph called out.

"Nothing." Napoleon stood up lazily. "I was thinking that perhaps I should keep a book in this cave. That way, whenever I run off here, I'll have something to do. Well, Joseph, I suppose there's no major trouble, is there? I should be able to go home now."

Napoleon's final sentence was not a question, but a statement.

"Basically," Joseph said. "But how are you so sure?"

"If things weren't settled and I couldn't go back, you would have brought food instead of coming here empty-handed," Napoleon replied, then asked, "Joseph, how did it end?"

"Just minutes after you ran off, Paul woke up." Joseph said. "Of course, Carlo was still furious. He told Giovanni that once he caught you, he would definitely give you a sound thrashing with a whip. But after Giovanni left, Pauline told him that you only hit Paul because you saw him pulling her braids. After Pauline said that, although our father didn't say it explicitly, he didn't seem quite as angry at you anymore. He even said to me, 'Joseph, you are my eldest son; why weren't you at the front when trouble broke out? Sigh, if only you could balance things out with Napoleon.'"

As Joseph spoke, he mimicked their father's mannerisms, making Napoleon burst into laughter. He said, "So, that means I'm in the clear?"

"Basically, yes," Joseph said. "At most, you'll get a scolding. If it weren't for Pauline this time, you would have really suffered. My foolish brother, your methods might be effective, but they always have one problem: it's hard to gauge the limits, and it's very easy to go too far."

"Rather than being timid and getting beaten up, it's better to go too far," Napoleon said dismissively.

"Alright, come back with me. Everyone is hungry, but Mother and Pauline insisted on waiting for you to return before eating," Joseph said. "When we get back, Father will scold you a bit; just admit your mistake, and then we can all eat. Hurry up, I'm already starving!"

When the two returned home, just as Joseph had said, Carlo only pulled a long face and scolded Napoleon a few times without bringing out the horsewhip. Napoleon, having already been briefed by Joseph, very meekly reflected on his errors to his father and promised that if such a thing happened again, he would control his temper and never strike so heavily.

"As a man of the house, you must take the initiative to protect the women. But you must also have a sense of proportion." After Napoleon finished speaking, Carlo said with satisfaction, "However, you must act quickly; Joseph, you are not as good as Napoleon in this regard. I know you have been influenced by Bishop Minier in many ways. Bishop Minier is a good man, a holy man, but neither your mother nor I wish to see you become a priest."

"Alright, Carlo." Letizia frowned slightly. "Your speech should end now; the children are hungry."

"Very well." Carlo smiled and clasped his hands together. Everyone else followed suit, beginning the prayer before dinner: "Lord, bless us, the food we are about to partake in, and all Thy graces. Through our Lord Christ. Amen."

After the meal, Carlo led everyone in the post-meal prayer. This was the common rule for almost every family in this era. However, Joseph always thought, If I were the Lord, being harassed by so many messages every day, I would surely feel like I was going insane.

There was no entertainment in this era. Since it was winter, it grew dark very early. Generally, after dinner, Carlo would read a passage from the Bible or something else to everyone, and then it would be dark, and everyone could wish each other good night.

But this time, Carlo did not take out the Bible. Instead, he said to everyone, "Everyone, sit here for a moment; I have something to discuss with you."

Everyone remained in their chairs to listen.

"Joseph, Napoleon, you two are no longer young and should learn something. I have met a friend, Mr. Armand de Foy, who visited our home last time. He is returning to France now, and he can take you with him to France to attend school and learn French. Then, based on your performance in middle school, we will decide what you should do next."

Mr. Armand de Foy—upon hearing this name, an image popped into Joseph's head: a large man with a red face full of freckles, about the same height as himself but nearly twice as wide. Especially that beer belly; Joseph suspected that if the man looked down, he likely couldn't see his own toes.

He was a relative of the Governor of Corsica and worked in the legal department in Corsica, making him Carlo's superior. Like all the fellows with a "de" in their names, his job was essentially to take money without doing any work. His daily routine consisted almost entirely of wandering around with a fishing rod. Carlo had once served as an adjutant to Paoli, the leader of the Corsican resistance; by all rights, such a person should have been difficult for the French authorities to trust. But because he had cultivated a good relationship with this Mr. Foy, not only was his status as an "Italian nobleman" recognized (of course, this recognition was only on paper; if he actually went to France, especially to Paris, few people would take his title of Count seriously), but he also became a member of the French government in Corsica.

Now that Mr. Foy was leaving Corsica, Carlo had entrusted him with introducing his two sons to a French aristocratic school. Carlo knew that in Corsica, there was not much of a future for Corsicans; France was the only place that could truly provide opportunities.

"Why learn French? The French..." Napoleon said halfway, but seeing Carlo's eyes, he shut his mouth.

"Remember, the future of the family depends on you two," Carlo said finally. "Napoleon, when you get to France, don't talk nonsense."

Napoleon didn't speak, but the reluctance on his face was obvious even to a fool.

"Joseph, talk to Napoleon later and tell him not to stir up trouble when you get to France," Carlo added.

What exactly Joseph said to Napoleon that night, no one knew, but after dawn, Napoleon showed a completely different interest in going to France to learn the language.

"I want to go to the heart of the enemy, to observe them and understand them at the closest range. This will help Corsica gain its freedom." In private, Napoleon said this to his sister Pauline.

Mr. Foy would not return to France for another month or so, so Carlo took this opportunity to hire a young man named Minier to serve as a tutor for his two sons, so they could master at least some French before heading to France.

Minier was a young man not yet twenty years old. It was said he had studied at the University of Paris, but he had not been able to graduate successfully. Later, to make a living, he came to Corsica. He was a typical Southerner, with fair skin, black hair, and blue eyes. He always smiled when he spoke and was, on the whole, a very likable young man.

However, he had his own work, so teaching the Bonaparte brothers French could only be done after his shift. In order to let the brothers master as much French as possible, the usually frugal Carlo actually allowed the two to light an oil lamp at night to study.

Italian and French were actually very similar, and the Corsican dialect was a language that fell somewhere in between—though, of course, the Corsican dialect was closer to Italian. Therefore, for Joseph and Napoleon, who had already mastered the Corsican dialect, it was not particularly difficult to basically master conversational French in a little over a month.

The month passed quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it was time to leave Corsica.

Early that morning, after breakfast, Carlo took his family to the residence of Mr. Foy to meet up with him. People of that era slept early, so they generally rose early as well. Mr. Foy's house was in a state of chaos, with a butler directing a group of servants to toss various items onto a carriage.

As for Mr. Foy, he stood to one side alone, his face showing neither the nostalgia of leaving a place he had lived for several years, nor the joy of returning to his hometown. It was as if the matter had absolutely nothing to do with him. Only when he saw the Carlo family did he reveal a smile and walk over with long strides to greet them: "Hi, Carlo, and Joseph and Napoleon, good morning."

"Good morning, Mr. Foy." Joseph quickly replied in French. But Napoleon remained silent.

"Ah, Joseph, your French pronunciation still has a bit of an Italian accent, but that doesn't matter much. In Toulon, there are plenty of people with that accent. Ah, Napoleon is still quite shy. You should be more outgoing, more outgoing is better. Hahahaha..."

Clearly, Foy mistook Napoleon's hostility toward the French for shyness. He did not know that the reason this little shorty was willing to go to France to study was precisely to understand France, so that one day he could defeat France and win independence for Corsica. At least at this moment, Napoleon was still a staunch Corsican separatist.