Louis quipped, "Looks like you’ve t your match this ti. Now I finally understand why you’re so interested in her, not just for her beauty, but because you found a worthy opponent. If she weren’t a lady, perhaps you could consider getting her half an onboarding at Scotland Yard; she would definitely do well in the Criminal Investigation Departnt, not at all inferior to Chief Field and the others."
Arthur looked at the sun, nodding to Louis to suggest sitting inside the restaurant.
As he pushed the door open and went in, he started speaking, "I disagree with your opinion. This skill in judging people is seldom innate; most of it is cultivated and accumulated through experience. Besides police officers, those most skilled in this are criminals."
"Aren’t con artists criminals too?"
Louis dragged his chair to sit down, "However, their work is generally quite ticulous, and most of the victims are willing participants. How much did she charge you for that divination?"
While peeling the plum ’a big bowl of cooked plums’ brought by the waiter, Arthur replied, "She didn’t charge ."
"That’s rare." Louis smiled sheepishly, "Could it be that she’s worried you’re an undercover sent by the police?"
"Can’t rule out that reason, and indeed I am currently acting as an undercover agent for the Paris police." Arthur stuffed the plum into his mouth and reached out for a grouse and a cup of strong, sweet blended wine.
"You’re in contact with the Paris police?"
Louis even forgot to order, his mind completely absorbed by Arthur’s seemingly unintentional remarks, "How did you end up connected with them?"
Arthur did not deny it, instead expressing it tactfully, "Louis, you know, as a British diplomat, I can’t contact the Paris police alone. I don’t trust them, and they wouldn’t trust ."
Seeing Arthur not deny, Louis continued to ask, "So is it Mr. Victor’s work? What is he investigating?"
Arthur didn’t say directly, but instead talked about another matter, "A few days ago I t an old friend of yours, who asked to send his regards to you."
"Who?"
"Giuseppe Mazzini."
Arthur sipped his strong blended wine, the spicy taste making him frown, "Their situation is not optimistic. The French governnt seems to suspect that Kaidao Sai Mansion’s explosion was their doing, so they are considering deporting them, and tternich’s spies lurking in Paris are waiting for this day."
"Mazzini?!"
Upon hearing this na, Louis almost jumped out of his chair.
Although he did not join ’Young Italy’, three years ago, he indeed participated in a conspiracy against the secular power of the Pope in Ro together with Mazzini, who was then one of the leaders of the ’Charcoal Party’.
Back then, Louis utilized his identity as a mber of the Bonaparte Family to gather intelligence for the Charcoal Party mbers, riding around Ro every morning on a white horse adorned with a tricolor blanket.
However, due to poor planning and betrayal, his true identity was quickly revealed by the Ro police, and he was expelled from the Papal States before the February 12 uprising occurred.
Despite the plan’s failure, Louis was not deterred; after the uprising, he persuaded his mother, who was then still in Ro, to hide two escaped insurgents, while he and his brother secretly headed to Florence, preparing for a final fight with the remaining Charcoal Party mbers.
Ironically, the reason these Charcoal Party mbers continued to fight desperately when Austrian intervention troops were at the city’s gates and Italian states were united was that they believed the French July Monarchy governnt, which had just co to power, would support them.
However, it’s evident that Louis Philippe would never support any movent with Bonapartist colors, as that would undoubtedly be digging his own grave.
No matter how absurd the Charcoal Party uprising was, Louis and Mazzini indeed shared life-and-death camaraderie, or rather, revolutionary friendship.
Upon hearing Mazzini might fall into Austrian hands, Louis’s carefree smile disappeared from his face.
As previously ntioned, he was a person who valued old friendships, and no matter how absurd Louis’s ideal of a ’Republican Emperor’ seed, at least at this mont, he genuinely believed from the heart that he was indeed a Republican, although his understanding of Republicanism differed from that of Great Dumas, Mazzini, and others.
Louis restlessly stared at the wine glass in Arthur’s hand, and his reaction was within Arthur’s expectations.
He knew his friend well. Although most latecors would curse Louis Bonaparte when they ntioned him, from Arthur’s perspective, he was actually an idealistic young man. If he weren’t so naive, he wouldn’t have secretly joined the Charcoal Party uprising without telling his family.
One must know, during an uprising, bullets do not care about the surna you carry. Even if he were lucky enough to dodge the unsympathetic bullets, being captured alive by the Austrian Army, with his status as an exile, the lightest punishnt would be long-term imprisonnt, and execution wouldn’t be unusual.
And it was precisely because Louis had such an experience of being exiled that he could better understand the perilous situation that Mazzini and "Young Italy" were in.
Once Louis Philippe officially issued an expulsion order, scores of Austrians and Italians would ’line up to welco’ Mazzini and his young brothers at the French border, perhaps even enthusiastically firing seven ’salutes’ for them; at the very least, they would fire thirteen shots out of respect.
Arthur, while dissecting the woodcock on his plate, asked nonchalantly, "Aren’t you going to order sothing? Standing up and sitting down all the ti is quite draining of energy."
Louis saw Arthur feasting, pursed his lips in silence for a long ti, then suddenly asked, "Does Alexander know about this?"
"Which thing are you talking about?"
"That Mazzini and they might be expelled."
"Louis, why would you think I’d be stupid enough to tell Alexander about this?" Arthur put down his knife and fork. "Telling him would only an letting the Austrians waste another bullet. If that bullet doesn’t work, tternich would at most develop another hemorrhoid."
"Alright."
Louis sat back in his seat. "I know there must be a reason you brought this up with , you know I’m with the Charcoal Party. I beca a deserter three years ago in disgrace, but that wasn’t intentional; it was from pressure on all sides. This ti, no matter what my family says, I have to stand with them.
Just as my brother, who died in the Charcoal Party uprising, said: ’The surna we bear forces us to support those unfortunate people who call upon us.’ Although the position I’m in now doesn’t allow to do this openly, I can work behind the scenes to provide my support."
"Hmm..." Arthur pursed his lips. "It seems that Bohemian girl I t isn’t entirely a fraud."
"What do you an?"
Arthur replied, "She said I would make friends with an emperor, and you, my friend, the words you just uttered indeed have an imperial aura. It reminds of Napoleon’s Hundred Days Restoration."
Louis, of course, knew what Arthur was referring to.
When Napoleon returned to France from his place of exile on Elba Island, facing the Fifth Regint sent to suppress him, he walked alone in front of the soldiers, took off his coat, revealing his familiar grey overcoat and military uniform, and shouted, "Soldiers, if you want to kill your emperor, fire here!"
And when the soldiers heard these words, not only did they not fire, but they laid down their weapons and chanted ’Long live the Emperor,’ turning to support Napoleon.
As a fated Bonaparte, Louis could recite his uncle’s glorious deeds backwards.
Perhaps in the future, he could beco cunning and shrewd, but for now, he was just a young man in his twenties.
Perhaps he could resist other flattery, but comparing him to his uncle was a weakness he could never resist.
"Co on, Arthur."
Louis blushed, took off his hat and threw it on the dining table. "I don’t have many places to move around now, but if there’s ever a need, I won’t shirk my responsibilities. Alexander always mocks for not being a true Republican, but today I must show him what true Republicanism looks like!"
However, despite Louis’s recent burst of heroic sentint, Arthur’s flattery hadn’t completely gone to his head. At least he still rembered how cunning his old superior was.
Louis loosened his collar, leaned forward, and lowered his voice: "But first you need to tell , why are you involved with Mazzini and them? Why do you want to help the Charcoal Party? Is it an order from the Foreign Office? And what connection does helping Mazzini’s Young Italy have with that Bohemian girl?"
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