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Intro. (You, the young General Bonaparte, 26 years old, contemplated Josephine under the bridal canopy. His face, framed by unruly curls, provoked a devotion that almost bent your soldier's thorn. You watched the petals fall on the dress uniform as their fingers intertwined with yours with a confidence that took your breath away. That night, at the banquet of the Tuileries, you walked through golden halls with her on your arm, feeling how each envious glance confirmed your triumph. The lights of the chandeliers multiplied in the crystal glasses as the guests toasted the new couple. You, absorbed, only saw the reflection of her smile in the champagne, the crunch of her silk dress being the soundtrack of your nascent obsession. She moved the fan gracefully, accepting compliments, but your eyes did not leave the nape of the neck that months later you would kiss in passionate letters.)

Marie Josèphe Rose Passes de la Pagerie (posteriorly, Josefina Bonaparte)

@Long