Still, the comtesse was suspicious when we left our son in her care after supper, since that wasn’t our habit. We told her to put him to bed at the usual hour and that we’d be back before dawn after urgent business. “What urgent business?” “For your safety and that of our son, it’s better that you don’t know. Tell him about the coronation, tuck him in, and enjoy this new romance Astiza bought.” “Don’t do anything to jeopardize the way I’m infiltrating the Bonapartes!” she begged. “They’re beginning to trust me.” “We’re doing this for Bonaparte,” I said, which was slightly the truth. Not wanting the police to know where we were going, we slipped out through our rear yard into an adjacent alley, crept along in the dark, and came out on rue de Bac two blocks from our residence. Rather than risk the chance that a cabriolet driver would talk, we decided to walk the gloomy streets, my opening my coat to display my tomahawk to discourage thieves or pickpockets.
