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Chapter 328 Chief of Staff Berthier(1/2)

1771, late February
The cold wave that hit Paris since mid-January has finally begun to subside after tormenting Parisian citizens for more than a month.
The wind and snow are no longer as sharp as a knife, and the temperature at night has gradually risen to above freezing. Although most of the snow on the streets has not yet melted, with the arrival of early spring, citizens have gradually taken to the streets and begun to prepare for this year's winter.
Running around for a living.
For the poor at the bottom, this is a very rare cold winter that makes them feel comfortable.
There was finally enough firewood in the stove, the kitchen pockets were stuffed with potatoes and brown bread, and the drafty shack had been reinforced for the first time in a long time.
Although the fatal low temperature still took away the lives of many poor people, finally no more piles of frozen corpses could be found on the streets at dawn like in previous years.
Of course, when the poor people at the bottom draw the refreshing warmth beside the dancing fire, no one will forget the saviors who gave them all this - the benevolent Crown Prince and the generous Bonaparte.
In addition to the abundance of supplies, what pleased the citizens most was undoubtedly the news of Madame Du Barry's death.
After the woman was hanged in public, her body was kept in the crypt of Notre Dame for more than two weeks.
The king did not issue any instructions for Madame Du Barry's burial, and no friend or relative dared to come to bury her.
In the end, an old nun in Notre Dame couldn't stand it anymore and held a very simple funeral for the body before it started to rot. Then she hastily buried the body in an overgrown cemetery in the suburbs.
It is said that the driver who transported the body felt so unlucky that he charged three times the price, and waited until midnight before quietly transporting the body out of the city, for fear that the citizens would discover that the car was carrying the skeleton of that vicious woman.
.
For citizens, this is indeed the best news they have received since the New Year.
As for Lawrence, he did not pay more attention to this dead man. His attention was more on the new regent, the Duke of Orleans and Crown Prince Louis.
However, the Duke of Orleans remained quite low-key during the first month of his tenure as regent, and did not do anything noteworthy.
Perhaps this is also because the Duke of Choiseul has not returned to Paris, and the Richelieu faction has become insignificant after losing Madame Du Barry, so the political situation in Paris does not require too much intervention from him.
Especially after Lieutenant General Jacques Philippe, the second-in-command of the Choiseul faction, left Paris in early February to take up his long-delayed position as Governor of Lorraine, the situation in Paris was even more stable than before.
many.
The departure of Lieutenant General Philip is also a mixed news for Lawrence.
On the one hand, Lieutenant General Philippe is indeed a reliable ally, which was evident on the day of the Paris riots.
But on the other hand, the Choiseul faction, which has temporarily lost Duke Choiseul and Lieutenant General Philip, will become very weak. After all, the Foreign Minister Caesar Gabriel who took over the leadership is not very capable.
This might give Lawrence some opportunities to take advantage of.
Of course, only time will tell whether Lieutenant General Philip's departure is a good or bad thing.
At the moment, Lawrence has another equally important matter to deal with-accompanying Prince Louis to enter the Paris Military Academy.
In late February, at the transition from late winter to early spring, it is time for a new batch of students to enroll at the Paris Military Academy.
...
February 24, Paris
East of the Champ de Mars and west of Les Invalides, the nearly one thousand acres of land in between belong to the famous Paris Military Academy.
When Louis XV founded this military academy in 1750, it only admitted children of noble descent whose ancestors were from four generations of aristocracy.
Although birth and blood are no longer the only constraints under Choiseul's reforms, there are undoubtedly only a handful of outstanding students who can enter this military academy.
Early in the morning, Lawrence, Crown Prince Louis, and Duke Charles, who was accompanied by the king's order, crowded into a narrow cheap taxi and arrived at the Champ de Mars.
"Wow, this is the Champ de Mars. This is my first time here."
As soon as the carriage stopped, Prince Louis jumped out of the car excitedly and looked curiously at this remote and unfamiliar place:
"It's better than I expected. I thought it was just a muddy field before."
Laurence smiled, threw a livre's fare to the coachman, and stepped out of the carriage with Duke Charles.
Duke Charlie rubbed his sore lower back and buttocks, feeling like his whole body was about to fall apart.
Apparently he felt uncomfortable being squeezed by the fat Crown Prince in the car just now, and he couldn't help complaining:
"My waist...can't we rent a bigger carriage?"
The ride in the small, cramped, creaky, and unshocked cab left an indelible psychological scar on Duke Charles.
Lawrence shrugged and laughed softly:
"His Royal Highness said that since we disguised ourselves as civilians, we must travel in the same way as civilians. His Highness initially wanted to walk here from the Tuileries Palace."
Perhaps because he had never experienced civilian life, Crown Prince Louis insisted on asking the three of them to enter the Paris Military Academy under the disguise of civilians.
"Walking from the Tuileries to the Champ de Mars? If he wants to lose weight, don't get involved with me."
Duke Charles glanced at the Crown Prince with disgust, muttered and complained:
"How long are you going to play with this house? Damn it, this linen outfit makes me itchy."
Lawrence reluctantly pulled off the rags and linen clothes on his body. In the eyes of His Royal Highness, it seemed that only those dressed like this could be called civilians, which made ordinary citizens on the road think that there were three beggars sitting in the carriage.
However, despite repeated complaints, Duke Charles was forced to follow Crown Prince Louis. After all, this was an order from His Majesty the King.
This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content! The three of them approached the main entrance of the military academy. An officer waiting here reached out to stop the three of them, and then looked at the three of them with sympathy.
Wearing shabby clothes, I couldn’t help but sigh that these are really three young people from poor families and strong ambitions:
"New students? Guys, bring out your admission notice and certificates, as well as letters of recommendation."
Lieutenant General Jacques Philippe had already prepared the documents for Lawrence and Prince Louis. Lieutenant General Philip had previously hoped that Lawrence could win over the cadets of the military academy in the name of Choiseul. This was both a request and a solicitation.
Show of goodwill.
It was easy for Duke Charles to obtain an enrollment certificate. After all, he was the future Duke of Orleans, not to mention that he also obeyed the king's order.
The officer took the lead in taking Lawrence's ID, examined it carefully, stamped it, nodded with a smile and said:
"Well... Charles Bornaba, nineteen years old, born in Italy, his father is a lawyer, entered the Military Academy of Brienne at the age of twelve, and was recommended by the Military Academy of Brienne to enter the Paris Military Academy... What a person
Great young man, Brienne is a great school.”
Lawrence also smiled and took back the stamped certificate.
His pseudonym, Charles Bornaparte, has a simple origin. Charles is a common French name, and Bornaparte transliterated the Italian pronunciation of the word Bonaparte back into French.
"So, this little fat guy over here..."
The officer frowned slightly, looked at the slightly nervous Crown Prince Louis, and read:
"Ludwig August, sixteen years old, a Parisian with aristocratic ancestry, was recommended by General Brinton to enter the Paris Military Academy...Okay, no problem, but your background is really a pity. If
If your bloodline is pure enough, you'll be much better off inside."
Although the officer felt a little strange about a little fat man in ragged clothes but fair and clean, but since there was no problem with the set of documents, he didn't ask too much.
"thank you, sir."
Crown Prince Louis took the certificate back happily and politely.
His pseudonym, Ludwig August, was simply a transliteration of the German pronunciation of Louis back into French.
Fortunately, the name Louis-Auguste was known only to the upper class nobles, so Crown Prince Louis did not have to worry about anyone guessing his true identity from his name.
After all, during the Great Revolution, many revolutionaries did not know what the name of Louis XVI was, so they forcibly gave him the name Louis Capet, because the revolutionaries believed that the Bourbon dynasty came from the Capetian dynasty, so
The king's surname must be Capet.
"Finally, this handsome young man..." The officer finally picked up Duke Charles's ID and read in surprise:
"Charlie Chartres, twenty-two years old, was recommended by Marshal de Broglie... Oh my God, it was recommended by the Marshal himself? This is the first time I have seen him... No problem, sir, please come in.
"
Duke Charles took the certificate back and rolled his eyes in displeasure.
His pseudonym was derived from his ducal title, Charles, and the place name of an ancestral fiefdom of the Orleans family, Chartres.
Crown Prince Louis frowned, pulled Duke Charles aside, and complained softly:
"Hey, Charlie, didn't I tell you to keep a low profile? Do you have to ask a marshal to write a letter of recommendation for you?"
Duke Charles curled his lips indifferently: "The result is the same anyway, Your Highness."
"Don't call me Your Highness, call me Ludwig here!" Prince Louis warned with some annoyance, beginning to regret that he agreed to let this rude guy accompany him.
To be continued...
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