No one knows what was discussed in the midst of that banquet. Historians can only combine the bits and pieces from Victoria's diary with historical events to deduce that the meeting between Palmerston and Prince Albert might have been the beginning of a series of major events in later times.
And the protagonists of the big event were not only Prince Albert and Palmerston; it would engulf the entirety of Europe like a vortex.
...
Time flies, the sun and the moon flash by.
In the blink of an eye, it was April 30th, and the day was gloomy.
In the morning, thick clouds covered the entire sky above the City of London. Occasionally, a pale blue arc of lightning could be seen piercing through the clouds, illuminating London, followed by a deafening rumble of thunder. A storm seemed imminent over London.
At this time, it had been seven days since Jerome Bonaparte arrived in London. During these seven days, Jerome Bonaparte and Dr. James tried every method to sustain the life of Napoleon III, which was as fragile as a firefly.
From intravenous injections to enemas, to taking opium, [opium can effectively relieve the patient's pain and was the most effective anesthetic and sedative in the 19th century. However, patients who took opium inevitably became addicts! The number of addicts in the United Kingdom, the largest producer of opium, was also the largest in Europe. Of course, from a certain perspective, opium consumption also made a significant contribution to the tax revenue of the United Kingdom.]
In short, Jerome Bonaparte and Dr. James had applied all their knowledge or available cholera treatments to Louis Napoleon, but his condition was deteriorating day by day.
The unavoidable organ failure made even breathing a luxury for Louis Napoleon. The unrefined salicylic acid could no longer suppress the high fever brought by cholera.
Under the dual torment of high fever and organ failure, Louis Bonaparte's condition deteriorated further day by day.
In just half a month, Louis Napoleon's arm had wasted to the point it was just skin and bones, his abdomen slightly swollen.
The eyes that once seemed to see through everything had turned dull.
"Ah... kill me... ah! God, save your child!" Louis Napoleon, tormented by the dual suffering, wailed in pain, even this iron-willed man who had braved bullets in Italy could not withstand this agony.
"It will be alright! Louis, it will be alright!" Sitting next to Louis Napoleon, Miss Howard clasped her hands in a praying gesture, tears in her eyes, comforting Louis Napoleon.
Miss Howard's comfort did not calm Louis Napoleon, who continued to groan in pain: "Kill me... I don't want to go on like this! Kill me!"
Miss Howard could only shake her head incessantly. As a frail woman, she could not possibly do such a thing.
Seeing that he could not plead with Howard to end his life, Louis Napoleon turned to Jerome Bonaparte, who was concocting salicylic acid.
Lying in bed, Louis Napoleon called out to Jerome Bonaparte in an almost pleading voice: "Cousin... my dear cousin... come here!"
Jerome Bonaparte turned to look at Louis Napoleon, his eyes filled with a hint of pity and reluctance.
Rather than let Louis Napoleon endure the torment, it would be better to let him die.
However, Jerome Bonaparte also could not bear the charge of killing a relative, especially since his cousin was still the Leader of the Bonaparte Clan.
The charge of killing a leader was a far heavier crime for Jerome to bear.
If it were discovered that Jerome helped Louis Napoleon find complete relief, the people in France would certainly not mind throwing mud at him.
By then, the bastards on the outskirts of the Bonaparte Clan and the internal opponents of the Bonaparte Clan (mainly stemming from Napoleon's oldest brother Joseph's line) would definitely "speak out."
Forget about becoming President; if things went wrong, they might even enforce transnational law to send Jerome to a prison in Strasbourg.
"Cousin!" Jerome slowly approached Louis Napoleon, whispering in his ear softly: "I know you are in pain! I also understand; you want to be free, but I truly cannot bear this sin! So for the sake of the Bonaparte Clan..."
Jerome stopped talking. At that moment, he felt somewhat repulsed by his own binding of the Bonaparte Clan's glory with a gravely ill patient, under the pretense of it being for the Bonaparte Clan.
Hearing Jerome Bonaparte's whispers, Louis Napoleon restrained his wailing and slowly uttered the words "for Bonaparte."
Even now, Louis Napoleon had not given up on the dream of the Bonaparte Clan reclaiming the pinnacle of power in France.
Even if he could not succeed in ascending the throne, he would watch this cousin, who journeyed alongside him, ascend the throne from the underworld.
Thinking of this, Louis Napoleon extended his trembling hand to encourage Jerome Bonaparte. When his hand was only a thumb's width away from Jerome Bonaparte's shoulder, Louis Napoleon slowly withdrew it, not wanting to pass his illness to Jerome.
With tears in his eyes, Jerome Bonaparte returned to the table where he was concocting salicylic acid.
The time slowly pointed to 10 o'clock when Dr. James appeared once more at Louis Napoleon's bedside.
After the routine check of Louis Napoleon's condition, Dr. James called Jerome Bonaparte aside.
"Based on the data I have gathered, Prince Louis may not live more than two days! I hope you are prepared!" Dr. James's words struck Jerome's heart like a boulder.
Jerome was silent for a long time, then exhaled and forced a smile: "That might be for the best! My cousin wouldn't have to suffer so much! Watching him scream in agony, sometimes I really want to help him out!"
"If... I'm saying if..." Dr. James emphasized again: "If Prince Louis sadly passes away today, you'd best have the prince's body cremated as soon as possible! I've seen many people contract cholera because they wanted to preserve the body."
Jerome nodded to show he understood. After a conversation about the prince, Dr. James departed.
There was nothing left worth treating at this point.
On the night of May 8, 1848, the long-brewing rain poured down as if it had received some signal; the life of Louis Napoleon (Napoleon III) was nearing its end.