Marianne and the Crown of Fire

beneath it.

'Anyone would think they were tearing down the walls,' Marianne said faintly.

'Perhaps they are. But I think they have started fighting amongst themselves,' Louise Fusil answered quietly.

It was true that the cries from below had altered. The drunken bellowing and the yells of joy and triumph were mingled now with groans and shrieks of pain. Apparently the robbers who had entered by way of the park were endeavouring to persuade their fellows inside to part with a share of the plunder. To the listeners, suspended, as it were, above the tumult, the murderous orgy had something horrible about it, for it told them all too clearly that the moment when these human fiends in their blind fury should discover their refuge, would be their last.

Marianne's heart thudded in her chest. Her hands felt icy cold and she had forgotten the pain in her shoulder. She slipped out quietly into the passage which ran down the centre of the house, illumined at either end by a round window above the stairhead. Vania and Lekain stood motionless beside the stairways, straining their ears to catch the sounds from below.

'Still nothing?' Marianne whispered.

Both shook their heads silently. Then, all at once, there came a sound of running footsteps and the clamour rose and swept outside as though the house had suddenly burst its bounds.

'I think they're going!' It was Mademoiselle Anthony who spoke, struggling to contain the joy that leaped in her voice. 'I can see a crowd of men pouring out into the street.'

'There's no one in the garden that I can see,' echoed Madame Fusil. 'They won't bother to climb out by the same way. Come and see.'

The two sentries came running back and everyone crowded into the room where Marianne had slept. The palace was spewing out the ragged, hairy groups of gesticulating demons, dyed red with the wine they had been wallowing in, and probably with blood also, as a draining ulcer casts out pus. But the actors' rejoicings as they watched this dangerous rabble departing were short-lived. Louise Fusil brought them to an end a moment later with a strangled cry:

'Fire! They have set fire to the house!'

It was true. A ruddy glow was spreading out from the downstairs rooms and the clamour of seconds before had given place to an ominous roaring. The last of the looters could even be seen turning as they left and hurling the torches they carried back inside the palace, uttering savage cries.

'Back!' Lekain cried. 'Downstairs, quickly! We must get to the garden—'

They sped towards the staircase which seemed to be farthest from the principal seat of the fire. Vania would have supported Marianne as before but the girl would not have it.

'The coffee and the sleep have done me good. Only give me your arm. But we must hurry—'

They groped their way down the dark stairway, built in the thickness of the wall, bumping against the sides and terrified as they felt the heat increasing moment by moment. By the time they reached the first floor the narrow space was so suffocatingly hot that it was like entering an oven.

'The fire must be very close,' Vania said, coughing. 'Lucky for us – this place – built of stone. If it were wood – like so many of them – we'd be cooked by now—'

'It's only a matter of time,' Lekain answered, swearing like a trooper. 'The stairs are beginning to burn.'

Even as he spoke, there was a red glow in the darkness and they rounded the last corner to see that the bottom steps were already well alight and a dense pall of smoke, almost as deadly, billowing up to meet them.

'We – we'll never get through,' Louise wailed. 'We'll all be killed—'

'Not on your life,' Vania shrieked. 'Hold your dress tight round you and run! We've a second or two yet. If your clothes catch, roll yourselves on the grass or on the gravel as soon as you get outside. Come on! Follow me!'

Giving Marianne no time to think, she caught her round the waist with one arm and clutching her robe around her with the other launched them both at the flames.

Marianne shut her eyes. She felt for a moment as if her lungs were on fire and held her breath. But Vania was half-carrying her forward in an irresistible rush and she scarcely felt the lick of the flames, even when her skirt caught alight. The scream that broke from her was caused more by the pain of her injured shoulder when her companion ran with her down the terrace steps and rolled with her on the grass to extinguish the fire in their clothes.

Seconds later they were joined by the others. Their clothes, too, were smouldering and they flung themselves down on the grass in turn, uttering shrieks of pain but fortunately without suffering any very serious injury. When they realized that they were all there, scorched, breathless and almost overcome by smoke but alive, they sat for a minute or two, staring at one another with a kind of incredulity, unable to believe their luck.

'Well,' Madame Bursay gasped, 'that was a narrow escape! We are all here and in one piece, so it seems.'

'Then let's see if we can stay that way,' Lekain said. 'Which we won't if we stay here. We must move away before the building falls in.'

Prince Dolgorouki's handsome mansion was blazing, now, from top to bottom in a great sheet of flame. The heat was unbearable. The building was like a fierce, roaring cascade of fire and the blinding light of it illumined every corner of the garden.

'Madona!' Vania groaned. 'Are there no fire engines in the city? If nothing is done to stop it, it will set the whole district on fire.'

Her words might have been a signal. Almost as she finished speaking, the heavens opened. Volumes of water poured down on Moscow with an apocalyptic roar, drenching in an instant the Dolgorouki gardens and those within them who fled precipitately to escape the clouds of boiling steam that rose from the burning building. In a short time the blaze had been transformed under the pelting rain to something more resembling a gigantic steam boiler.

Soaked to the skin, Marianne and the actors tried to find somewhere to shelter but the gardens contained none of the small summer-houses often found in other places and trees saturated with water, soon ceased to offer any protection at all.

'We must get out of here,' Mademoiselle Anthony called out, 'before we catch our deaths of cold!'

'Never mind that,' Vania complained. 'But I could be in danger of losing my voice. I'm a creature of the sun and I hate damp like the plague. If I take cold I cannot sing!'

'I'm amazed that you can think of singing at all at this moment,'

Lekain said with a chuckle. 'But I agree with you when you say that we ought to quit this inhospitable place forthwith. The question is, how?'

It proved, indeed, to be easier said than done. The garden was surrounded by walls and railings, except for one small door, bolted and barred as heavily as a strong room, which it was clearly impossible to open.

'Well, the looters got in somewhere,' Louise Fusil said. 'Why can't we get out?'

'They got in over the wall,' Lekain answered. 'I'm very willing to make a back for you to climb up if you will only help me up after you. Although I confess I don't see how.'

Vania had been tugging off her diadem and the snapped and sodden plumes which draggled over her face. Now, in answer, she unwound the length of red silk which constituted her Roman robe and held it out to him, sublimely disregarding the appearance she presented in her sleeveless petticoat.

'We'll drop this down to you once we are up. It's very strong. Then we can use it to climb down the other side.'

Thus armed, they proceeded almost gaily to the assault of the wall. Vania, as the supplier of the idea and the means, went first. She settled herself firmly astride the wall and leaned down to catch Marianne as the other women assisted her to climb painfully on to Lekain's back. From there, Vania's grip on her good arm was enough to hoist her up to the top. The rest followed and pulled Lekain up after them.

The descent was effected in the same order, using Dido's robe twisted into a rope. But once safely on the other side Marianne's small strength was exhausted and she found herself close to fainting. While Vania helped the others to scramble down, she was obliged to lean against the wall, her heart thudding violently and her head swimming, scarcely even aware of the rain which was still pelting down.

'Not feeling quite the thing, eh?' Vania said sympathetically, seeing her wan looks.

'Not quite. Where are we going now?'