"Will you let me be the foreign minister in three days..."

After enjoying a sumptuous dinner and chatting for a long time with Monsignor Bonaparte, it was almost nine o'clock in the evening before Count Vergenin said goodbye and left.

Standing outside the door of No. 10 Champs Elysées, the slightly chilly spring evening breeze made his brain, which was intoxicated by champagne wine, sober up a little.

At this moment, what lingered in Count Vergenin's mind was Lawrence's seemingly casual yet solemn promise just now.

During the several months he lived in Paris, a strange and indifferent city, Count Vergenin once thought that his political career had been sentenced to death.

He never expected that there would be such a surprise waiting for him at the Corsican Embassy today. Count Vergenin also knew very well that this was a huge favor that he would need to repay throughout his life.

When the Duke of Choiseul controlled the government, Count Vergenin had never thought that he could one day become the cabinet minister in charge of the entire Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

However, before the celebration really started, Count Vergenin had one last worry in his mind:

"Can Monsignor Bonaparte really do such a thing... Caesar Gabriel, that is the cousin of the Duke of Choiseul."

With these mixed thoughts, Count Vergenin turned his head and glanced at the courtyard of this splendid mansion. In any case, he could foresee that he would be a frequent visitor here in the future.

After Count Vergenin left, Lawrence thought for a long time alone in the drawing room.

He then took pen and ink and wrote two secret letters, summoned the old housekeeper and gave instructions:

"Please send these two letters out now. Just like last time, make sure they are burned after reading and do not leave any written evidence."

Although the old butler had previously served the Duke of Choiseul, during these days of getting along, Lawrence still confirmed the loyalty of this competent butler, knowing that the object of his loyalty was essentially to this mansion.

The master, not a specific person.

Therefore, Lawrence can safely entrust these secret tasks to the other party.

The old butler accepted the envelope solemnly and simply wrote down the recipient address. As for the specific content of the letter, he did not have the slightest interest or curiosity.

...

Midnight, Palace of Versailles.

In a gorgeous and luxurious bedroom that could be called a small palace, Crown Princess Marie Antoinette was lying peacefully on a warm and soft nanmu bed, looking like she had already fallen asleep.

At this time, a personal maid walked into the bedroom cautiously and looked at the sleeping Crown Princess. After much hesitation, she pushed her awake and reported:

"Your Highness, Your Highness..."

Princess Mary, who suddenly woke up from her sleep, rubbed her sleepy eyes in confusion, glanced at the clock in the room under the moonlight, and then scolded angrily:

"Oh my god, what are you doing? Is there a fire? Or an earthquake? Or an assassin has come in? Why did you wake me up at this time!"

"Sorry, Your Highness, there is a messenger here to see you..." the maid reported with a low eyebrow.

"Messenger? What idiot sent a messenger so late!"

Crown Princess Mary became even more angry. She didn't want to get up so late to change clothes, and then spend a lot of time dressing up to see the idiot messenger who couldn't even read the time on his pocket watch:

"Let that man go away. Really, France is such a fool, everyone is like this. I see more dementia in one day in Paris than in Vienna in a year..."

"But..." The maid carefully interrupted Crown Princess Mary's endless complaints:

"It should be His Excellency Bonaparte's messenger."

As soon as she finished speaking, Princess Mary's complaints stopped abruptly. She was stunned for a moment, and couldn't help but have a sweet smile on her lips. Then she covered her mouth with a smile and said:

"Ah, M. Bonaparte? Why didn't you tell me earlier? Help me get up and change my clothes. Let the messenger wait for a while."

After simply changing into a long dress, Crown Princess Mary met the old butler in the living room outside her bedroom.

The old butler personally handed the secret letter to the Crown Princess, and followed Lawrence's order to ensure that Crown Princess Mary burned the letter on the spot after writing down the content.

"It surprised me that..."

Crown Princess Mary smiled slightly as she recalled the contents of the letter, and said with a slightly proud and playful smile:

"Mr. Bonaparte also needs my help sometimes."

The old housekeeper asked seriously: "Then what is your reply to Monsieur Bonaparte...?"

"Although I don't quite understand what Mr. Bonaparte is going to do, please rest assured." Crown Princess Marie smiled and nodded:

"I have been grateful to Mr. Bonaparte many times before, and it is time for me to repay him."

As she spoke, Crown Princess Mary wrote down a location on a piece of paper and handed it to the old butler:

"Just ask M. Bonaparte to meet here tomorrow."

The old housekeeper nodded meticulously, accepted the note solemnly, then tightened his coat, stood up and said goodbye:

"I will convey it truthfully. So, I say goodbye, Your Highness. I'm sorry to disturb your rest."

After the other party left, Crown Princess Mary sat there again and thought for a while with her chin on her head. Her expression was very confused, as if she could not understand what Lawrence's intention was.

But in the end, Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess had no choice but to shake her head and sigh, and gave up thinking about those entangled politics and conspiracies. Those things were beyond the ability of this pampered girl to understand.

No matter what, she had agreed to Lawrence's request and just let it go.

Crown Princess Mary called the personal maid and gave her instructions:

"You invite Prince Neo early tomorrow morning. I want to meet with him."

The personal maid frowned slightly and reminded in a somewhat old-fashioned way:

"Prince Neo...are you talking about the Austrian Ambassador? But Your Highness, with all due respect, it may not be appropriate for you as the Crown Princess to have a private meeting with the Ambassador. This is politically..."

Crown Princess Mary interrupted displeasedly:

"Don't forget, Neo Joseph-Diane von Habsburg-Lorraine, he was first my uncle, and then the Austrian ambassador to France. Isn't it allowed for me to meet and reminisce with my uncle?

?"

Seeing this, the personal maid had no choice but to suppress her worries, lowered her head and agreed:

"Yes, Your Highness."

...

And a few hours late at night, in a single-family villa in the Saint-Germain district of Paris.

The sleeping Lord Melly, chairman of the Paris Stock Exchange, was also awakened by a sudden knock on the door.

Although his wife, who was also woken up, complained that it must be just the urchins in the neighborhood causing trouble, Lord Mellie was obviously uneasy and put on a coat himself and went downstairs. Then he was shocked to find that the person who came was actually Bonaparte's.

messenger.

"Good evening, Mr. Melly, here is a personal letter from Monsignor Bonaparte."

The old butler ignored the frightened Lord Merry, directly handed the secret letter into his hand, and whispered:

"Please remember the above content now, and then turn this letter into ashes."

Lord Melly couldn't help but shudder, and the late night sleepiness was swept away. He quickly opened the envelope in his hand and read it carefully by the candlelight.

Although the last contact between Lord Mellie and Lawrence was almost a year ago, the tie between the Corsican National Silver Company and the National Silver Company of Corsica still bound the stock exchange chairman firmly to Lawrence.

After all, he was fully involved in all the procedures for the fraudulent listing of the National Silver Company, a shell company. Once anything goes wrong with the National Silver Company, the blow to the Paris stock market will undoubtedly be devastating, and he, as the chairman of the stock exchange, will

But it’s hard to escape the blame.

Lord Mellie, who is well aware of this, also knows that he has only one way to go, and that is to stand firmly with Laurence Bonaparte. Only in this way can he survive the financial crisis that will inevitably break out in the future.

itself.

However, even though he had already made up his mind, when Lord Melly actually saw the contents of the letter, he was still shocked by it and seemed a little hesitant.

Not to mention how serious the act of forging evidence itself was, just thinking that the target of this forgery was His Majesty the King's cabinet minister made Lord Melly feel extremely embarrassed.

The old housekeeper seemed to notice the other party's hesitation, and a sharpness suddenly appeared in his originally kind eyes, and he asked slowly and unhurriedly:

"What is your reply to Monsignor Bonaparte?"

At this point, Lord Mellie knew that he had read the secret letter, and there was no room for refusal.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead, then he gritted his teeth, lit the letter on the candle, and threw it into the fireplace nearby:

"I have indeed received Your Excellency Bonaparte's request. Please tell Your Excellency that I will not let him down."

"I will convey it truthfully."

The old butler nodded lightly, and then left straight away, quickly disappearing into the quiet night of Paris, as if he had never visited this place before, leaving no trace.

...

Two days passed, May 19th

A regular imperial meeting chaired by the Duke of Orleans was held in the Palace of Versailles, and Lawrence also drove to the Palace of Versailles early in the morning with a small number of escorts.

Before the meeting officially started, the ministers who came in advance gathered in the Venus Hall outside the Apollo Hall, where they enjoyed delicious snacks while chatting, or played a few games of billiards, exchanged information with each other and expanded their knowledge.

connections.

When Lawrence arrived at the Venus Hall, he briefly became the focus of the ministers.

Many high-ranking figures had vague information about the Golden Iris faction and knew that His Majesty the King was handing over a secret faction to the leadership of the young Prime Minister Bonaparte.

However, as for the specific situation of this mysterious faction, it is information that only a very small number of ministers close to the king are qualified to know.

Many attendees enthusiastically came forward to greet Lawrence politely, trying to extract some information from him, but these clumsy words were all rejected by Lawrence without missing a beat.
To be continued...