Morning, August 2, 1849.
The morning sunlight pierced through the gaps of the thick curtains embroidered with the golden bee emblem, slightly scorching beams of light stretched across the red Persian carpet all the way to the corner of the bed, adding a touch of brightness to the dim bedroom.
On a large mahogany bed draped with silk canopies, Jerome Bonaparte lay flat with his eyes closed and in only a shirt and shorts, sprawled in a "big" posture. The red thin blanket, meant to be on the bed, had long been "discarded" along with clothes onto the Persian carpet.
"Dong, dong, dong!"
In the corner of the bedroom, a heavy Rococo-style walnut-cased mechanical clock, after a series of gears turning prompted by the heavy weights, suddenly emitted a deep but rhythmic single chime when the clock hands pointed to twelve.
