The Rising Storm

with de Perigord he excused himself and left the two great men together.

Having had his true business guessed by de Perigord had shaken him badly, and for most of the way back to Paris he took serious thought about the possibility of other people unmasking him. On the whole it seemed unlikely, as not only was the Bishop a man of exceptional shrewdness but he also had had information about 'Monsieur le Chevalier de Breuc's antecedents that no one else in Paris possessed. The disquieting episode had, however, served to call Roger's attention to an important development he had overlooked.

Up to the preceding August it had been good enough cover to pose as a young Englishman of means who was travelling for pleasure and liked to spend a good part of his time in Paris, as there had been many such; but it was so no longer. The riots culminating in the fall of the Bastille, the 'Great Fear', and finally the removal of the Court from Versailles, had driven the rich English milor's to take their pleasures in the German and Italian cities. Most of their friends among the French nobility had fled, and, as the gay Duke of Dorset had gone home, this winter there were not even any elegant this-dansant to attend at the British Embassy.

After some thought, Roger decided to adopt a new line. He would gradually put it about that he was staying on in Paris because he had taken up journalism, and was now writing a weekly news-letter. For the paper in which these mythical articles were to be published he chose the Morning Chronicle, as that was the most important Whig organ of the day and would sound well with the majority of his French acquaintances, as most of them were men of Liberal opinions.

However, in spite of that unnerving moment when de Perigord had blandly charged him with being an agent of Mr. Pitt, he felt that he had had an extremely fortunate day; as not only did his secret alliance with the Bishop hold great possibilities for the future, but de Mirabeau had promised to introduce him to a Club called the Jacobins, which was beginning to assume considerable importance on the political stage.

Three nights later Roger dined in very different company. He had continued to see the Comte de la Marck occasionally when visiting the Tuileries or about the city, and in the previous week the young Austrian had asked him to dine at his Embassy, where he was still living.

During the past six months fashions in Paris had undergone a greater alteration than in the whole of the preceding sixty years. Silk coats, satin breeches, gold lace and feathers were now regarded as the outward symbols of an inward desire to arrest the march of Liberty; so few men any longer wore them in the streets or had their hair pow­dered before going out in the evening. But, realizing that the Embassy was Austrian soil, and that few changes were likely to have occurred there, Roger had his hair powdered for the first time since leaving Naples, put a patch on his chin, and went out to dine clad in his best satins and laces.

When he arrived he was pleased to find that he had done the right thing, as the party consisted of a dozen people and it was being con­ducted with all the courtly formality that only such a little time ago had been the fashion, yet in Paris already seemed of a bygone age. Even for this small gathering, hundreds of candles lit the great chan­deliers in the hall and above the staircase; a string band played softly behind a screen of palms; black-clad major-domos, with silver chains about their necks, and a line of rigid footmen stood ready on either side of the entrance doors to take the wraps of the guests.

The Ambassador, Count Florimond de Mercy-Argenteau, was himself receiving. Roger knew him well by sight but had never before spoken to him, so he was pleasurably surprised when the elderly dip­lomat returned his bow with the words: 'Monsieur le Chevalier, I know you to be a friend of the Queen; so I hope you will permit me to make you one of mine, and to assure you that you will always find a very warm welcome here.'

As Roger thanked him and turned to greet de la Marck, he wondered if the Queen had told Mercy-Argenteau of his journeys on her behalf to Florence and Naples, and thought it highly probable that she had. The Ambassador had represented Austria at the Court of Versailles for over twenty years; so from Madame Marie Antoinette's arrival there as a child-bride of fourteen he had been her counsellor and champion, and had come to be regarded by her almost as though he was a favourite uncle.

De la Marck presented Roger to the Spanish Ambassador, the Conde Fernanunez and his Condesa; then to the charming old Abbe de Vermond, who shared with Mercy-Argenteau the distinction of being the Queen's oldest friend in France; for he had been sent to Vienna to teach her French when her marriage had first been mooted and, returning to Versailles, in her entourage, had continued as her preceptor until she left the schoolroom.

But Roger broke away from the group as soon as politeness permit­ted, for he had seen an old friend on the far side of the room. It was Count Hans Axel Fersen, who had entertained him most hospitably when he was in Sweden two summers earlier.

The Swedish nobleman was a tall good-looking man in his middle thirties, and all the world knew the story of how he met the Queen when she was Dauphine, and they were both still in their teens, at a masked ball at the Opera. Fersen had himself admitted to Roger that he had fallen in love with the beautiful Princess, and later gone to fight in the American War in an endeavour to forget her; but everyone who knew the Queen's character discredited the story that he had actually been her lover, just as they did of those concerning innumerable other men—including even the old Abbe de Vermond—with whom the gutter pamphleteers never tired of coupling her name.

Fersen was delighted to see Roger again, and when they compared notes both were a little surprised that they had not run across one another during the past few months, as Count Hans said that after revisiting France in the autumn of '88 he had returned there per­manently the previous summer. But that they had not met was explained by Roger's journeys, and the fact that Fersen spent much of his time at Valenciennes with a French regiment of which the Queen had procured him the Colonelcy.

The round dozen in the party was made up by ladies, and Roger was allotted to take in to dinner a niece of the Ambassador who happened to be staying in the Embassy for a few nights on her way through Paris. After he had talked to her for a while he turned to his other neighbour, who was the Condesa Fernanunez, and she asked him if he numbered any Spaniards among his acquaintance.

For a second he hesitated. Since leaving Naples he had stuck to his resolution to discipline himself against thinking of Isabella, and, although the temptation to do so had proved too much for him at times, he had at least succeeded in banishing her image from his brain except when some special occurrence reminded him of her. This was just such a chance occurrence; and it suddenly struck him that, since the oppor­tunity offered, it would be a good test of his progress to talk about her now and see if he could get to sleep that night without suffering his old tormenting longings. So he replied:

'I had the good fortune to form a most sincere friendship early last summer with a lady of your country, Madame; and I should be much surprised if you do not know her. She is the daughter of General Count d'Aranda.'

'But of course!' exclaimed the Condesa. 'A most charming and sweet-natured creature. I knew her well; for when her father was succeeded as Ambassador here by my husband he left her in my care. Naturally, as she was one of Madame Marie Antoinette's ladies, Her Majesty was formally responsible for her well-being, but I assumed towards her the role of a benevolent aunt. I do not remember, though, her ever mentioning you to me.'

Roger explained that while he had been presented to Isabella by the Queen at Fontainebleau, he had not come to know her at all well until chance decreed that he should act as her escort on the greater part of her journey south to Marseilles. He refrained from any mention of her having accompanied him to Florence, or their having met again more recently in Naples; but he was under no necessity to pursue the sub­ject himself, as the Condesa proved to be a garrulous lady and talked for quite a time, first in praise of Isabella, then about her marriage. As a dinner-table topic the subject seemed near exhausted, when she added:

'I heard of her through a mutual friend only last week. It seems that her marriage was swiftly blessed. She is expecting a child towards the end of March, so she and her husband are leaving Naples to return to Spain in the New Year.'

'Why should they do that, Madame?' Roger enquired, not seeing any connection between the two statements.

The Condesa smiled at him. 'Naturally they must be hoping that it will be a boy, and whenever an heir is born to a noble Spanish family a great fiestais given on the father's estates. Even if it is a girl many bulls will be slaughtered and casks of wine broached. At such a time the lord and his lady always repair to the family's ancestral home, so that after the lying-in they may witness the rejoicings of their serfs. It will prove a good opportunity, too, for the Sidonia y Ulloas to make their court to our new King and Queen; so no doubt when Isabella is safely delivered they will spend some months in Madrid. That will be pleasant for her, as she has not been in the