The Kabbalist Read Free Page B

her well-tuned instincts knew better than to
challenge her Papa when he was like that. In a cheeky display of resentment,
she turned on her heels and left the room in thundering silence, holding her
head up high in defiance. The two men smiled and then took a long look at each
other.
    “It is so good to see
you, Papa.”
    “A cavalry officer in
the army of the Republic… I am proud of you, my son.”
    Pascal was very pleased
to hear these words coming from his revered father, with whom words of praise
were a rare commodity. “How is Henry? Have you heard from him?” He asked. Henry
was his younger brother, who had joined the army the previous year.
    “Henry is doing very
well at the Officers’ Academy,” said Roland proudly. “He finished third in his
class this year. He wants to be an artillery officer.”
    “Just like my
commander, General Napoleon Bonaparte.” Pascal was smiling.
    “Well, do tell me about
this young Corsican general. Have you met him?”
    “Oh, Papa, he is a true
leader.” Pascal did not try to hide his admiration. “You should see how the
soldiers adore him, and the officers too. He is small in stature, but in this
small body lives the mind of a Caesar. The army will follow him through fire
and hell, I can tell you that.”
    A spark flickered in
the gray-blue eyes of his father. “Caesar? May I remind you that we are proud
to be living in the Republic of France? You must remember that day, when we
went to Paris to see King Louis XVI lose his head in the town square. We sacrificed
a lot to liberate France from tyrants, and we had better honor this sacrifice.”
Roland de Charney was a republican at heart.
    Pascal realized his
mistake. “Of course, Papa, what I meant was that Napoleon Bonaparte is the
Republic’s greatest general, perhaps the greatest the French people ever had,
and I am proud to serve under his command. And, yes, I did meet him once in
person. It was after a successful assault exercise I led at the head of my
cavalry company, which the general had been watching from a nearby hill. After
the exercise had ended, he rode down the hill and approached me. Papa, my knees
started wobbling, and I lost my tongue, but this great man simply smiled at me
and said: ‘Excellent performance, Captain de Charney; that was some mighty charge
you led there. With officers like you, I can ride confidently into battle.’
Papa, never in my life had I experienced such elation as I did at that moment!
I knew I would follow him anywhere. And to think this great man is twenty-nine
years old, only five years my senior! He had his first glorious victory over
the English in Toulon just five years ago, when he was my age, and since then
he managed to defeat the mighty Austrian empire and force the world to come to
terms with the French Republic and respect it! Papa, this man is already a
living legend, and he is a French citizen, who will lead the Republic to
greatness and glory.”
    “We shall see about
that,” the older man shook his head skeptically. “History teaches us that
people in such powerful positions must be made of unique stuff, if they are not
to end up tyrants. Look at what happened to Robespierre, a man we all admired
and a personal friend of your general. Before long, he was transformed from a
champion of civil rights into a maniac and power-hungry mass murderer.”
    “Papa, when you get to
know the general, you’ll understand we have a Frenchman of a new kind in him.”
    “Frenchman, Pascal? The
fact that a Corsican now embodies the hopes of the New France must be a
manifestation of history’s strange sense of humor. Just thirty years ago, I was
a young major in the French army which invaded Corsica. The Corsicans never
considered themselves French. They fought like lions over their island, I will
give them that, but they were killing French soldiers. They were killing my soldiers! I was wounded in the battle of Ponte-Nuovo myself. I almost died
there!”
    “Papa, France of