"If General Oppel knew that our Prince rely considered him a replaceable tool, I wonder what expression he would have."
Mathilde, with her face below the nose concealed by an ivory fan, revealed a playful expression.
Oppel’s behavior of ignoring Mathilde at the party clearly left Mathilde "bearing a grudge."
Jero Bonaparte shrugged, spread his hands, and said in a flat tone, "I think Oppel would gladly accept it!"
"Hmm?" Mathilde looked at Jero Bonaparte quizzically, her eyes full of "I need an explanation."
"For a politician dedicated to the French political arena, there are two deaths he must experience in his lifeti! One is actual death, and the other is political death." Jero Bonaparte paused and continued:
"Our General Oppel is experiencing political death. The National Assembly, even as the highest authority now, is too crowded with French parliantarians. With 750 mbers, there is too little power to go around. The power of governnt ministers is evidently much greater than that of National Assembly mbers. To be politically reborn, General Oppel can only choose to align with us, even if I consider him as a re tool.
Once tasted, the power is sothing one cannot let go of, even if only for a day. My dear sister, no one can refuse power, not even the Dictator who claims to leave work on ti, Do you believe our Mr. Dictator will make a scene during the transition? No, I should say that our Mr. Dictator is very likely to cause a scene during the elections."
Mathilde giggled softly, then showed a charming expression and said, "Then I shall wait and see!"
The carriage soon took Jero Bonaparte back to the Rhine Inn.
"See you tomorrow!" Mathilde waved goodbye to Jero Bonaparte from the carriage.
"See you tomorrow!" Jero Bonaparte waved back at her as well.
Watching the carriage disappear at the end of the street, Jero Bonaparte turned and entered the Rhine Inn.
He learned from the innkeeper that his rambunctious father returned around 1 a.m. with a lady.
The lady who returned with Old Jero still hadn’t co downstairs.
"Sigh!" Seeing the innkeeper’s look and tone of admiration, Jero Bonaparte shook his head and sighed. His father was truly a complete Parisian philanderer, and compared to him, Jero was simply an untouched "white lotus" in the romantic field of Paris.
After pondering for a mont, Jero Bonaparte decided not to disturb his father’s revelry, and after bidding farewell to the innkeeper, he returned to his residence alone.
Tired from the day, he lay on the bed pondering all that had happened today, and before he knew it, he fell asleep.
Early the next morning, a fine rain began to fall from the gray sky, the raindrops pattering against the glass window with a "pitter-patter" sound.
Lying sprawled on the bed, Jero Bonaparte was startled awake by the sound of the rain and slowly opened his eyes.
"What ti is it?" Jero Bonaparte struggled to get out of bed, yawning and rubbing his sleepy eyes.
In his blurry vision, he saw the clock placed in the corner, noting that it was less than ten minutes until the scheduled 10 o’clock eting.
Jero Bonaparte instantly awoke, quickly freshened up, and adjusted the wrinkles on his cuffs. Before he could open the door, he heard a knock coming from outside.
Jero Bonaparte quickly walked to the door and opened it. Percy and Eugène Roué stood outside.
"Your Majesty!" Percy and Eugène Roué both saluted Jero Bonaparte.
Jero Bonaparte raised his hand slightly and said calmly, "Let’s go!"
Jero Bonaparte walked in front, with Percy and Eugène Roué behind him.
Since the entire floor of the Rhine Inn was used as a temporary gathering place for the Bonaparte Faction, the important eting with Bonaparte Party mbers was also held here.
The three of them ca to a room at the corner, and Jero Bonaparte pushed open the door.
The spacious room was filled with Bonaparte Party mbers, all of whom were mid-level cadres of the Bonaparte Party.
Even though they joined under his banner with various unspeakable ambitions and purposes, the fact that they’d been tirelessly running for the Leaders of the three generations of Bonaparte (King of Ro—Louis Napoleon—Jero Bonaparte) for over thirty years proved their loyalty... at least more loyal than those generals in Paris!
"Gentlen, the ti to reclaim what we lost has co on its own!" Jero Bonaparte extended his hand and clenched it into a fist, "This ti, we must grip it tightly! Don’t let it slip away again!"
"Long live the Empire!" the Bonaparte Party mbers shouted in unison, a scene not unlike future multi-level marketing gatherings.
Jero Bonaparte shook hands with each Bonaparte Party mber.
When he reached Pierre Bonaparte’s side.
"Your Majesty, I have wronged you!" Pierre Bonaparte lowered his head, not daring to face Jero Bonaparte directly.
Jero Bonaparte didn’t know whether Pierre Bonaparte was genuinely repentant or pretending to change his faith, but now was the ti for concerted effort, and any internal conflict would not be allowed.
Jero Bonaparte grasped Pierre Bonaparte’s hand and said, "Cousin, are you willing to continue dedicating yourself to the Bonaparte Clan?"
Pierre Bonaparte looked up in surprise at Jero Bonaparte. He hadn’t expected to receive his cousin’s forgiveness so quickly.
"I am willing!" Pierre Bonaparte said resolutely.
Everyone was pleased with Jero Bonaparte’s magnanimity.
After all, no one wanted to follow a harsh Monarch.
Having temporarily reconciled with Pierre Bonaparte, Jero Bonaparte ca before his father, Old Jero.
Old Jero nodded slightly at Jero Bonaparte and said, "You’re back!"
"I’m back!" Jero Bonaparte responded with equally succinct words.
After eting the Bonaparte Faction’s backbone, Jero Bonaparte began deploying election-related matters and slogans.
"Secretary Percy!" Jero Bonaparte formally addressed Percy.
"Present!" Percy responded with a serious expression.
The Bonaparte Party mbers looked at the newly minted secretary with jealousy and envy in their eyes.
"I hope there can be a newspaper in Paris owned solely by the Bonaparte Faction!" Jero Bonaparte instructed Percy.
"Yes!" Percy replied to Jero Bonaparte.
Having said that, Percy selected a few Bonaparte Party mbers who had previously worked at newspapers to stride out confidently.
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