Make France Great Again-Chapter 76 Paris Rhine Inn

The sudden attack by the Order Party caught Jerome Bonaparte somewhat off guard, ringing an alarm bell in his heart.

Sometimes simply trusting in the "established facts" of history is not a long-term strategy. After all, the course of history is driven by people, and any small change can cause a significant shift in a person’s mindset.

The struggle against the Order Party and those opposing the establishment of the Bonaparte Empire is inevitable, but this struggle can only begin after Jerome Bonaparte becomes the President.

Now, what he needs to do is rush to Paris to arrange various matters related to the election and show weakness to Thiers and others.

Appropriate signs of weakness might cause complacency in the opponent, allowing one to calmly plan.

Understanding the next few strategic moves he needed to make, Jerome Bonaparte wished he could sprout wings and fly to Paris. Unfortunately, in the short period of less than 30 years since the invention of the steam train and less than 8 years since the opening of the Paris-Lyon train route, there was still no nighttime passenger train.

Jerome Bonaparte had to suppress his anxious feelings and quietly wait for the next day to arrive.

The night grew deeper, and as he extinguished the kerosene lamp, Jerome Bonaparte curled up in bed lying on his side.

His heart pounding with excitement, anytime he closed his eyes, memories of the past came flooding back, intertwining 19th-century and 21st-century recollections in his mind, making it difficult for him to sleep peacefully.

The words "campaign slogan" suddenly appeared in his mind.

"What kind of campaign slogan should I use?" Jerome Bonaparte murmured to himself, eyes open, as slogans from past American presidential campaigns surfaced in his mind.

Unemployment, bankruptcy, political instability... The signs in France can’t be deemed entirely unrelated to those in the United States during the 1930s; rather, they are almost identical. Jerome Bonaparte couldn’t help but think of the slogan used by Little Roosevelt, one of the Yalta Three Giants, during his campaign.

Perhaps I can use it! However, something needs to be added at the end.

Unable to contain his burst of inspiration, fearing that it might vanish by the next day, Jerome Bonaparte got up and relit the kerosene lamp with a flint.

The lamp once again illuminated the entire room. Jerome Bonaparte sat at his desk, pulling out paper and pen after much contemplation, and wrote down the campaign slogan in French.

He then held the paper bearing the slogan up to the kerosene lamp’s light, where the whole sheet assumed a yellowish hue under the lamp’s glow. Satisfied with the slogan in hand, Jerome Bonaparte nodded approvingly.

Then, he folded the paper and placed it in his pocket, and once again blew out the lamp.

This time, Jerome Bonaparte could sleep peacefully.

The next morning, as the first rays of dawn pierced like arrows into the ancient city of Lyon, a city that has survived through millennia, the proletariat residing there had already begun their workday.

The workers, logging nearly fourteen hours of labor every day, were roused by the crowing of roosters around 4 a.m. They dragged themselves around, lethargically washing their dust-covered faces with some water before commencing work to the shouts of foremen.

A group of people had likewise gathered at the rudimentary railway station in the northern part of Lyon, carrying large bags as they awaited the train.

The usually haughty railway supervisors and police responsible for railroad security now wore almost ingratiating smiles as they greeted this group’s leader, Jerome Bonaparte.

Jerome Bonaparte, impatiently waiting for the train at the station, had no desire for pointless conversations, dismissing them with a few cursory words.

Knowing they ranked low in status, the two men skulked away.

Before leaving, they still wore obsequious smiles, assuring Jerome Bonaparte that he could call on them anytime if needed.

Watching their departing backs, Jerome Bonaparte gently shook his head, remarking with feeling, "If my surname weren’t Bonaparte, perhaps my life would be just like theirs, constantly compromising for a living!"

Those present did not respond to Jerome Bonaparte’s words; sometimes a leader’s words are only meant to be earnestly heard.

As the sun rose, white mist gradually dissipated in the sunlight.

More and more people boarded the train to Paris.

At 7:30 a.m., with a piercing whistle and thick white steam billowing, the train appeared.

The train pulled steadily into the station. Jerome Bonaparte boarded first, followed closely by Fleury, Eugène Roué, Percy, and other Bonaparte Party members.

At 7:50 a.m., another long whistle sounded, and more thick white smoke spewed from the train’s chimney as it slowly started to move.

Seated on the train, Jerome Bonaparte, feeling utterly bored, rested a hand by the window, gazing at the scenery outside.

Covering a distance of nearly 470 kilometers from Paris to Lyon, the train advanced at a speed of 40-50 km/h, reaching the destination after almost 10 hours.

[In 1848, the fastest train at the time was the American Antelope, which reached a speed of 96.6 km/h]

By 7 p.m., the train gradually came to a stop at the Paris Railway Station, and Jerome Bonaparte disembarked with the Bonaparte Party members.

Returning to Paris after a four-month absence, Jerome Bonaparte felt exceptionally excited.

Compared with himself four months ago, Paris now felt like his first love, from which he would embark on conquering all of France.

Accompanied by Eugène Roué and other Bonaparte Party members, Jerome Bonaparte arrived at the Rhine Inn near the Champs-Élysées in the Saint-Germain District, where his inexpensive father was staying.

Upon arriving at the Rhine Inn with Eugène Roué, Jerome Bonaparte learned from the innkeeper that his thrifty father wasn’t at the inn.

From the innkeeper’s expression and his understanding of his father, Jerome Bonaparte surmised that his father was probably "engaging in deep discussion" with an opera singer at some opera house.

Jerome Bonaparte shook his head and complained softly in Tuscan dialect, "Oh, come on, at such an age! Still imitating youngsters! That’s reckless!"

The innkeeper, not understanding the Tuscan dialect, looked at Jerome Bonaparte with a puzzled expression.

Standing beside Jerome Bonaparte, Eugène Roué stifled a laugh, maintaining a serious demeanor.

After negotiating with the innkeeper, Jerome Bonaparte decided to rent the floor of his former residence as his temporary office.

The innkeeper, amid the off-peak tourist season in Paris, was overjoyed to agree with Jerome Bonaparte.

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