(Napoleon’s quarters at the Institute. A small room, virtually identical to that of the students. A bed, a chair, a table. His uniform on a hanger. It is the middle of the night. Napoleon is asleep.)

(The Girl enters. She has a dried gunshot wound on her forehead. She walks to the bed and sits on its edge.)

The Girl

Sir.

(Napoleon stirs.)

The Girl

Sir.

(Napoleon opens his eyes.)

Napoleon

Oh. It’s you.

The Girl

I’m sorry to wake you.

Napoleon

What brings you here?

The Girl

I had been hoping to see you again at the dinner last week.

Napoleon

I don’t care much for the Kremlin today.

(A pause.)

Napoleon

What is that on your forehead?

The Girl

It’s nothing.

Napoleon

Let me see it closer.

(The Girl bends her head towards him.)

Napoleon

This doesn’t look good.

The Girl

Really, don’t worry.

(A pause.)

Napoleon

How did it go? Did they applaud?

The Girl

I think they would have.

Napoleon

I think so too.

The Girl

You looked a little more imposing in your uniform.

Napoleon

I used to sleep in it. On the battlefields. It’s quite the little luxury that I can change before bed now.

The Girl

It does sound much more comfortable.

Napoleon

It is.

The Girl

I came to say thank you to you, sir.

Napoleon

What for?

The Girl

For giving me courage.

(A beat.)

The Girl

To talk about resistance.

Napoleon

I’m glad you did.

The Girl

Me, too.

(A beat.)

The Girl

You know what?

(A beat.)

The Girl

Next year, I will wear a uniform as well. When I turn eighteen.

Napoleon

You will look like a soldier.

(A pause.)

The Girl

I brought us some cherries.

(She produces a handful of sour cherries from the pocket of her dress and holds them out. Napoleon takes a few.)

(They eat.)