He Became Napoleon’S Genius Son [EN]: Chapter 528

Side Story (6) Victor Hugo Meets the Angel in White

The sky over Paris was no longer clear.

“I can’t live like this! We need to change things! At this rate, we’ll all die from overwork!”

Beneath the hazy gray sky, men wearing red hoods stepped forward, protesting.

However, Paris was still a city with a complex structure dating back to the 18th century.

During the old revolution, revolutionary insurgents and government forces had fought countless times in the narrow alleys.

If urban planning had been more advanced, the situation might have been different.

In any case, the red-hooded men were easily blocked by the police suppression forces.

-Thump, thump, thump!

The police suppression forces, wielding batons and shields, were about to confront the hooded men when, from a nearby building…

…someone staggered out of a house, right between the tense lines of confrontation.

The protesters and the police were dumbfounded and looked over, their faces suddenly turning pale.

Because the person who was staggering began to vomit blood.

“Cough, cough, cough!”

At that moment, agitation arose among the police first.

“Blood!”

“Aah, it’s a plague! Run away!”

“Tuberculosis!”

Henri, the commander who had graduated from the Police University, screamed.

“It’s the plague of shut-ins, avoid it!”

Tuberculosis, or TB, was one of the infectious diseases that spread rapidly after the Industrial Revolution in the 19th century.

Cholera, anthrax, and tuberculosis.

If Lareille, the head of the Imperial Medical Center, had not discovered the existence of [germs], these infectious diseases would have been considered curses.

But tuberculosis still had almost no effective treatments, causing widespread fear.

In the alley where both the protesters and the police ran away to avoid the infectious disease, a steam car suddenly appeared with a loud noise.

-Vroom!

The white-painted steam car stopped where the patient had fallen.

“Sigh, are they people infected with tuberculosis again?”

A woman wearing a white gown got out of the steam car.

A characteristic of tuberculosis patients was said to be a pale face.

However, the complexion of the woman in the white gown was as pale as that of a tuberculosis patient.

She looked like someone who couldn’t see the sunlight properly and stayed up all night.

Suddenly, the people who got out of the car hurriedly bowed their heads to the woman.

“Yes, we are taking quarantine measures, but it is not easy, Your Imperial Highness.”

“To treat tuberculosis germs, you need to strengthen your immunity. First, move everyone to the sanatorium.”

“Please avoid it first, Your Imperial Highness. You might get infected.”

The woman in the white gown, the black-haired princess, shook her head.

“If I don’t step up, who else will? Now, everyone, let’s all cheer up!”

Steam cars, white ambulances, began to transport tuberculosis patients who had collapsed everywhere.

The woman in the white gown, called the princess, also stepped forward.

Of course, they were wearing isolation equipment such as gas masks on their faces.

Still, everyone knew that there was a risk of infection.

The protesters gathered again in front of those who risked the danger of tuberculosis infection and started quarantine.

“There, those Imperial Hospital doctors and nurses are living in luxury!”

Suddenly, a person in a red hood shouted from the protest.

Then, protesters with fierce eyes gathered.

Especially since there were women among the white gown crowd, their eyes were even more fierce.

The protesters, flashing their eyes filled with anger, greed, and lust, surrounded the ambulance.

“Kill the doctors! Those who make us wait without treatment!”

“How can you run away from infectious disease patients!”

“Where is the ambulance steam car! People are dying in the factory, where are you!”

The doctors and nurses hesitated, not knowing what to do.

If they were subjected to violence by the increasingly violent protesters, an uncontrollable situation would occur.

The police who should have protected them had run away a long time ago, afraid of tuberculosis.

At that moment, the princess ran out from among the patients.

“Get out of the way!”

The red hoods of the protesters glared.

“Who is this woman again!”

“How dare you step in when men are discussing politics?”

“Do you want to die!”

Then, a lady in a nurse’s uniform behind the princess glared.

“How dare you block anyone! This is Princess Florence Bonaparte!”

More than the title of princess, the protesters paused because of the lady’s beauty.

Soon, the protesters realized who the woman in the gown in front of them was.

The woman who graduated at the top of the French Imperial Medical University.

The daughter of the late Emperor, Florence Bonaparte.

Even the protesters who were protesting against the Emperor were full of respect for the [late Emperor].

Because the late Emperor had already died when there was no concept of so-called labor repression.

The protesters, looking at each other, hurriedly paid their respects and scattered, leaving only the tuberculosis patients behind.

Suddenly, the middle-aged beautiful lady nurse, huffing and puffing, looked at the princess and said.

“That’s a relief. Still, they can’t dare to rush at Your Imperial Highness.”

“It’s really not like before. In the old days, everyone showed respect when our ambulance car moved.”

“What do you expect from those rude guys? They are followers of Babeuf [Gracchus Babeuf, an early socialist]. What is His Majesty the Emperor doing without arresting and executing those guys right now!”

As the noble lady burst into anger, Florence smiled bitterly and said.

“Brother is worried that they will explode, Madame Polignac.”

Madame Polignac, who was once Marie Antoinette’s lady-in-waiting.

The woman who is now volunteering as a nurse at the Imperial Medical Center, where she was treated for her cancer, frowned.

Because she was worried that Florence, a precious relationship she had met in her later years, would get hurt.

At that time, someone spoke with a giggle and a laugh from afar.

“Hmph, Paris is still noisy. Why is everyone making such a fuss?”

Florence turned her gaze and was surprised.

“Hortense, sister? Did you come to Paris?”

Hortense, a woman who appeared on a horse, not fitting for the 19th century, raised her hunting cap.

“Yes, but I didn’t come to see this. The doctor’s gown suits you well now?”

Paris, where the Industrial Revolution is taking place.

It was the moment when the two daughters of the late Emperor met in 10 years.

***

Looking around the Imperial Medical Center ward on the outskirts of Paris, Hortense frowned.

“You live in the hospital. Aren’t you getting married? Is Eugene going to let you die as a virgin? If so, he should put you in a convent.”

Hortense was born when noble women were still entering convents.

But Europe is already in the midst of the Industrial Revolution.

Even if she is a member of the imperial family, she is unlikely to enter a convent unless she is truly devout.

Looking at Hortense, who is talking about old-fashioned things, Florence smiled while pouring coffee.

“Sister, Marengo [Jean Lannes, Duke of Montebello] is doing well, right?”

“Antoine is too busy. This time, he went to fight the Western Indian Confederation. I wish everyone would obey well, why do they hate getting citizenship so much?”

“Oh my, is there another war? There must be many patients there too.”

Marengo, that is, Desaix [Louis Desaix].

It has already been over 20 years since he was appointed as the Commander-in-Chief of New France during the late Emperor’s reign.

The French Empire, which values ​​placing the right person in the right place, is still keeping Desaix in the New World.

Now, the New World is more familiar than Europe, and Hortense doesn’t feel particularly uncomfortable.

However, seeing her sister talking about patients like this, Hortense felt that she should have come and nagged her more often.

“How did such a child come out of our family? Don’t worry about the patients, worry about your body. I saw you transporting infectious disease patients earlier? Are you a [genius disease] [Romantic era term for tuberculosis] patient?”

But Florence shook her head.

“Tuberculosis is not a genius disease. Rather, it is closer to the disease of the poor.”

“Is that so? People who are mainly stuck in their rooms doing art get it. It disappears if you get a lot of sunlight.”

“It’s a matter of immunity. That’s it. Of course, there is a medicine to treat it.”

Then Hortense opened her eyes wide.

“Really? Is there a medicine to treat [genius disease]? It’s a big deal in the New World that it’s incurable once you get it? There’s even a story that you become a vampire when you die.”

So, the difference in perception between these two princesses is due to the difference in medicine between the New World and Europe.

European medicine has developed rapidly since Lareille discovered bacteria with a microscope.

On the other hand, in the New World, there are still many people who believe that disease is God’s will.

Perhaps because exchanges with Europe are not actively taking place.

At Hortense’s words, Florence screamed in disbelief.

“That’s ridiculous! Vampires, there’s no such disease. If there is, it might be rabies.”

“Huh? Ah, if you get bitten by a mad dog, you go crazy together? Is that also a disease?”

“How low is the level of medicine in the New World? Don’t tell me that’s also known as a curse?”

Hortense giggled and replied.

“Well, I’ve seen priests and pastors trying to exorcise them. Don’t worry too much. We don’t do witch hunts. At least not in French territory.”

In fact, during this period, witch hunts caused a storm in the New World in the original history.

However, such an anachronistic event did not occur in the New France territory due to the Emperor’s strict orders and Desaix’s crackdown.

Of course, the situation was different in the United States of America.

Handing over coffee, Florence asked.

“It doesn’t seem like you came to fix the underdeveloped New World medical system. It doesn’t seem like you came to see the workers’ strike either.”

“Why would I fix it and watch it? I came because of Empress Marie.”

“Huh? Is there a problem with Her Majesty the Empress?”

Hortense opened her lips and shouted at Florence.

“Doesn’t she know the news of the Tuileries [The Tuileries Palace, the Imperial residence] better than me? Don’t you know that Eugene and Empress Marie have been separated for over a year?”

Florence opened her eyes wide.

Because she really didn’t know.

It’s already been over a year since I contacted the Imperial Palace.

“No wonder Her Majesty the Empress hasn’t been seen lately. I guess she’s in Seville?”

“Listen to some imperial news. Doesn’t your mother say anything to you?”

“Mother is always busy with parties. She doesn’t want to see the hospital because it’s terrible. It’s a place to come when you’re sick.”

Speaking lightly, Florence whispered with a serious face.

“If you see brother this time, please tell him for me. Paris is at a dangerous level.”

Hortense raised her eyebrows.

I saw the protesters rioting earlier.

But wouldn’t it be enough to punish the traitors?

“Well, is that a bigger problem than the imperial family’s internal problems? Anyway, I understand.”

This thought may also be the difference between the New World and Europe.

***

Even after her half-sister, whom she had seen in a long time, disappeared, Florence’s day was busy.

“Emergency! Urgent patient. Nurses on standby immediately!”

Following the director of the Imperial Medical Center, who was summoning nurses, Florence asked.

“What’s the problem, Director Lareille?”

“A patient from the downtown protest site, Florence. His leg is a compound fracture from fighting the police suppression forces!”

“Oh my gosh, I’ll get the anesthetic!”

At that time, the patient who was being carried on a mobile bed grabbed Florence’s arm.

“I don’t need anesthetic!”

Looking down at the patient with bloodshot eyes, Florence frowned.

“I can’t operate without anesthesia, Monsieur.”

“No, I can do it. Also, I don’t trust the Imperial Hospital’s drugs!”

“Monsieur, stop talking crazy!”

At that moment, Florence shouted at the patient.

“Everyone is equal in the hospital. I don’t care if you’re an anti-imperialist!”

The man, who was staring intently at Florence, let go of his arm.

“I entrust my life to you, Mademoiselle.”

“Thank you. Please tell me your name so I can record it. Your name?”

“Victor.”

Victor, a member of the anti-imperialist protest group whose eyes were still shining, replied.

“Victor Hugo.”

It was the first day that the great writer who would later record the [Anti-Imperial Revolution] met the doctor princess.

Or maybe it was the day when romance began.