The other young men also gathered around, their eyes filled with the anger of betrayal and desperate questions.
"My assignment is to the Tunisian mountains! There's a war going on there!"
"Guyana! That's a place only penal convicts go!"
"Senegal, can we even come back alive from there?"
The torrent of accusations lashed Charles La Rochefoucauld like whips.
He felt a suffocating sensation, his face burning.
Antoine's words struck at his inner fear and regret.
He had indeed used family connections and some vague promises to instigate these companions to participate in the action against Lionel Sorel.
He thought this would be a low-cost political speculation, and even if criticized by newspapers, it would gain them a brighter, safer military future.
Now it seemed they had all become exploited fools.
When those powerful figures needed them, they tacitly approved or even encouraged their "patriotic fervor".
Now that the operation had failed, they were thrown into the most dangerous overseas colonies to serve as officers—in reality, cannon fodder!
Members of the "French Republic Youth Guard" were generally young nobles lacking strong backgrounds; their families would not protect them.
Charles La Rochefoucauld struggled to speak:
"I... I didn't know it would be like this... Besides, that night..."
Antoine abruptly released his collar, as if discarding something dirty:
"Didn't know?! Well, now you do! Think of something! Go find those powerful friends of yours!
Go find that Mr. Bonaparte! We can't just be thrown to the ends of the earth to die!"
These words enlightened Charles La Rochefoucauld.
Yes, Victor Bonaparte!
If it hadn't been for his coercion, he wouldn't have rashly led people to rush into Lionel's villa.
Fear, resentment, unwillingness, and a sliver of hope surged into his heart all at once.
He couldn't sit by and wait for death, couldn't silently disappear into the tropical rainforests of the colonies like those common soldiers.
He pushed away Antoine, who was still muttering complaints, not even bothering to straighten his twisted collar, and stumbled towards the salon door.
The shouts and curses behind him seemed to come from another world.
Only one thought remained in his mind, like the last straw a drowning man grasps:
Go find Bonaparte! He had to go! He wanted an explanation, he wanted to reclaim what was promised to him, he absolutely couldn't be abandoned like this!
Charles de La Rochefoucauld rushed out of the salon, into the streets of Paris where the city lights were just coming on, fleeing in panic.
His current dishevelment was a stark contrast to his youthful exuberance in front of the Villeneuve Villa back then.
————————
Half an hour later, inside the palatial mansion of the Bonaparte family.
Charles La Rochefoucauld mumbled, repeating a sentence:
"For the big picture? A necessary sacrifice?"
A bitter smile appeared on his face.
Victor Bonaparte took a puff from his cigar:
"Yes, the big picture is paramount! Accept the appointment, Charles.
Fulfill your duty like a true member of the La Rochefoucauld family; your worth will be even more evident in adversity!"
Charles La Rochefoucauld knew the conversation was over.
He received no promised protection, but was dismissed so casually, and he was powerless to resist any of it.
He stood up, offered no bow, and stumbled out of the magnificent living room like a sleepwalker, just as he had arrived.
Behind him, Victor Bonaparte's voice came faintly:
"Good luck, Second Lieutenant."
————————
The 20 million franc additional budget that Jules Ferry had painstakingly pried from parliament sparked an even more intense public opinion explosion than the debates within parliament.
Bad news always travels fastest.
Although officials attempted to downplay it, returning wounded soldiers, letters home from frontline officers, and fragmented reports from audacious war correspondents...
France's setbacks overseas inevitably spread.
In the western Tunisian mountains, well-equipped French patrol units were ambushed by tribal warriors armed with old rifles, suffering heavy losses.
At the port of Sfax, civilian casualties from naval shelling were shocking.
On the Red River in Tonkin, Vietnam, transport convoys were repeatedly attacked, and the supply lines were precarious.
These reports spread like a plague through Paris's cafes, salons, and streets and alleys.
Voices previously suppressed by colonial fervor temporarily regained the upper hand and became even sharper.
Le Figaro, though leaning towards the moderate Republicans, now also had to raise questions in its commentary section:
[We were told this was an expedition of "civilization" against "ignorance," a low-cost "police action."
However, the reality is constantly increasing budget demands and coffins continuously being sent back home.
Has the Prime Minister underestimated the cost of "civilizing" the savages?]
L'Intransigeant and La Voix du Peuple, furthermore, unleashed their full firepower, sharply questioning:
[Is this the "order" and "prosperity" Mr. Ferry promised?
Using the blood of French youth to water foreign deserts, and using the sweat and toil of the working class to pay the bill for slaughter!
Colonialism, this bourgeois carnival, will always ultimately be paid for by the common people!]
Public resentment also began to boil, with people discussing animatedly in taverns and markets.
"I heard it's because the government took all the money for war?"
"Exactly, Tunisia, and that... what's it called, Tonkin... who knows where that is!"
"Those gentlemen only know how to argue in parliament, who cares about our lives!"
This discontent wasn't just due to opposing political stances, but also stemmed from the personal experiences of ordinary citizens.
Parisian citizens found that more construction projects on streets, which had been under constant excavation due to Haussmann's renovation, seemed to have stalled—
It was said that part of the municipal funds had been temporarily diverted.
The price of baguettes in bakeries quietly rose by ten percent, as shop owners complained about increasing food and transport costs.
A bricklayer queuing for groceries on market street complained to his companion:
"Look at this mess! Roads half-built, houses half-finished!
I heard it's all because the government threw our money into that bottomless pit in Africa and Asia!"
His companion, an old master craftsman from a workshop, sighed:
"Benefits? I haven't seen a single bit of cheap colonial sugar or coffee. But I do feel like taxes are going up again. When will the pie that the gentlemen promised finally reach our mouths?"
This widespread complaint and suspicion began to shake the foundation of Jules Ferry's government.
People felt deceived; colonial expansion brought not the imagined wealth and glory, but visible tax pressure, rising prices, and a seemingly endless quagmire.
France's predicament naturally did not escape the eyes of the British; London newspapers would certainly not miss this opportunity.
The Times, in an editorial titled "The Cost of the Civilizing Mission," wrote with a satirical tone:
[Parisian politicians are accustomed to criticizing the colonial actions of other nations and proclaiming their own methods as more "noble."
However, the ruins and casualties of Sfax silently speak of another reality.
To "civilize the barbarous" with "barbarous" means will ultimately yield nothing but double the barbarism and hatred.]
These comments lashed at French self-esteem like whips.
Parisian newspapers immediately launched a counterattack.
Le Gaulois quickly published an article, bringing up old British accounts in South Africa:
[Perhaps before British gentlemen discuss "civilization" and "barbarism," they should first recall the disastrous defeat at Isandlwana?
Did they sign the Pretoria Convention with the Boers because they won the war?]
Action Française even more fiercely declared:
[The British mockery is nothing more than jealousy of the French Empire's expanding vitality! They would rather see us in trouble than a strong France competing with them globally!]
For a time, newspapers on both sides of the English Channel engaged in a fierce war of words, exposing each other's shortcomings and mocking one another.
However, this war of words further exacerbated the anxiety and dissatisfaction of the people in both countries.
Amidst all this clamor of arguments and complaints, a piece of news unrelated to politics or colonialism quietly appeared in a prominent position in several newspapers, including Le Figaro, Le Petit Journal, and Le Petit Parisien—
[The inaugural "Sorel-Peugeot" Cup Tour de Paris Bicycle Race will be grandly held on October 1, 1881!]
(End of Chapter)