afraid of him?"
"No more than I am," said Napoleon stoutly.
"No more than you!" laughed Panoria. "Why, Napoleon, you did not
dare to even touch the pears of your uncle the canon."
"Because I did not wish to, Panoria," replied Napoleon.
"Did not dare to," corrected Panoria.
"Did not wish to," insisted Napoleon.
"Well, wish it! I dare you to wish it!" cried Panoria, while Eliza looked
on horrified at her little friend's suggestion.
By this time Saveria had led the children from the grotto, and, walking
on ahead, was returning toward their home. She did not hear Panoria's
"dare."
"You may dare me," Napoleon replied to the challenge of Panoria; "but
if I do not wish it, you gain nothing by daring me."
"Ho! you are afraid, little boy!" cried Panoria.
"I afraid?" and Napoleon turned his piercing glance upon the little girl,
so that she quailed before it.
But Panoria was an obstinate child, and she returned to the charge.
"But if you did wish it, would you do it, Napoleon?" she asked. "Of
course," the boy replied.
"Oh, it is easy to brag," said Panoria; "but when your great man, your
uncle the canon, is around, you are no braver, I'll be bound, than little
Pauline, or even Eliza here."
By this time Eliza, too, had grown brave; and she said stoutly to her
friend, "What! I am not brave, you say? You shall see."
Then as Saveria, turning, bade them hurry on, Eliza caught Panoria's
hand, and ran toward the nurse; but as she did so, she said to Panoria,
boastingly and rashly,--
"Come into our house! If I do not eat some of those very pears out of
that very basket of our uncle the canon's, then you may call me a
coward, Panoria!"
"Would you then dare?" cried Panoria. "I'll not believe it unless I see
you."
Eliza was "in for it" now. "Then you shall see me!" she declared.
"Come to my house. Mamma Letitia is away visiting, and I shall have
the best chance. I promise you; you shall see."
"Hurry, then," said Panoria. "It is better than braving the black elves,
this that you are to do, Eliza. For truly I think your uncle the canon
must be an ogre."
"You shall see," Eliza declared again; and, running after Nurse Saveria,
they were soon in the narrow street in which, standing across the way
from a little park, was the big, bare, yellowish-gray, four-story house in
which lived the Bonaparte family, always hard pushed for money, and
having but few of the fine things which so large a house seemed to call
for. Indeed, they would have had scarcely anything to live on had it not
been for this same important relative, "our uncle, the Canon Lucien,"
who spent much of his yearly salary of fifteen hundred dollars upon
this family of his nephew, "Papa Charles," one of whom was now about
to make a raid upon his picked and particular pears.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE CANON'S PEARS,
When the little girls had left him, Napoleon remained for some
moments standing in the mouth of his grotto. His hands were clasped
behind his back, his head was bent, his eyes were fixed upon the sea.
This, as I have told you, was a favorite attitude of the little boy, copied
from his uncle the canon; it remained his favorite attitude through life,
as almost any picture of this remarkable man will convince you.
The boy was always thoughtful. But this day he was especially so. For
he knew that it was his birthday; and while not so much notice was
taken of children's birthdays when Napoleon was a boy as is now the
custom, still a birthday was a birthday.
So the day set the little fellow to thinking; and, young as he was, he had
yet much to remember.
He felt that he ought to be as rich and important as the other boys
whom he knew round about Ajaccio There were Andrew Pozzo and
Charles Abbatucci, for example. They had everything they wished,
their fathers were rich and powerful; and they made fun of him, calling
him "little frowsy head," and "down at the heel," just because his
mother could not always look after his clothes, and keep him neat and
clean.
Napoleon could not see why they should be better off than was he. His
father, Charles Bonaparte, was, he had heard them say at home, a count,
but of what good was it to be a count, or a duke, if one had not palaces
and treasure to show for it?
Napoleon knew that the big and bare four-story house in which he lived
was by no means a palace; and so far from having any treasures to
spend,
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