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Brother Joseph tried to come in here one day, and Napoleon beat him and bit him, until Joseph was glad to run out, and has never since gone into the grotto." "What if we should go in there, Eliza?" queried Panoria. "Oh, never think of it!" cried Eliza. "Napoleon would never forgive us, and his nails are sharp." "And what does he do in his grotto?" asked the inquisitive Panoria.
The little girls behind the lilac-bush watched the boy curiously. "Why does he walk like that?" asked Panoria, as she noted Napoleon's advance. He came slowly, his eyes fixed on the sea, his hands clasped behind his back. "Our uncle the canon," whispered Eliza; "he walks just that way, and Napoleon copies him." "My, he looks about fifty!" said Panoria. "What do you suppose he is thinking about?"
I will not tolerate a lie. I do not know just what you have done; but if you will tell me the truth, I will of course I will pardon you. Why did you take my fruit?" "I took nothing, uncle," the boy declared. "It was" then he stopped. Suppose it had been taken by one of his sisters, or by Panoria, their guest?
As for Napoleon, I fear that this little incident in his life made him feel more important than ever. He assumed a yet more masterful tone toward his companions and playmates, lorded it over Joseph, his brother, and made repeated demands for loyalty upon Uncle Joey Fesch. But he did feel grateful toward Panoria for her timely word and generous conduct.
"Oh, he talks to himself," Eliza replied. "My! but that is foolish," cried Panoria; "and stupid too." "Then, so are you to say so," Eliza retorted. "I tell you what is true. My brother Napoleon comes here every day. He stays in his grotto for hours. He talks to himself. I know what I am saying for I have come here lots and lots of times just to listen.
But I do not let him see me, or he would drive me away." "Is he in there now?" inquired Panoria with curiosity. "I suppose so; he always is," replied Eliza. "Let us hide and listen, then," suggested Panoria. "I should like to know what he can say when he talks to himself. Boys are bad enough, anyway; but a boy who just talks to himself must be crazy."
Eliza was hardly ready to agree to her little friend's theory, so she said, "Wait here, Panoria, and I will go and peep into the grotto to see if Napoleon is there." "Yes, do so," assented Panoria; "and I will run down to that garden and pick more flowers. See, there are many there." "Oh, no, you must not," Eliza objected; "that is my uncle the Canon Lucien's garden."
"Did not wish to," insisted Napoleon. "Well, wish it! I dare you to wish it!" cried Panoria, while Eliza looked on horrified at her little friend's suggestion. By this time Saveria had led the children from the grotto, and, walking on ahead, was returning toward their home. She did not hear Panoria's "dare."
"Let me go and peep in, to see if he is there. But no; hush! See, here he comes! Come; we will hide behind the lilac-bush, and hear what Napoleon says." "But will not your nurse, Saveria, come to look for us?" asked Panoria, who had not forgotten Eliza's reference to the nurse's heavy hand.
When, however, he reached the part of his story that described how he wished Napoleon to confess his misdeed, little Panoria, having, as I have told you, none of that awe of the Canon Lucien that his grand nephews and nieces had, burst in upon him, "Why, then!" she cried, "I should not think Napoleon would confess. Poor boy! He did not eat your fruit, Canon Lucien." "How, child!
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