caused her sleepless nights but for a sudden conviction that all was not well which roused her from her own unhappiness. She opened her eyes and sat up, and for a moment wondered vaguely at the light that filled her room.
Jumping out of bed, she ran to the window and uttered a startled cry. The unwonted brightness, lighting the place like daylight, was the city of Moscow burning. Two huge fires, out of all proportion to what had been seen so far, had broken out to the west and south and, driven by the wind, were spreading rapidly, eating up the wooden houses like so much chaff.
At that moment, her godfather's warning came back to her. How could she have forgotten it? Marianne dressed quickly, slipped on her shoes and hurried from the room. The darkness and silence of the palace were oppressive. A single lamp burned on the landing and all was quiet and peaceful, except for the loud, regular snoring from the door next to her own which told that Jovial was sleeping soundly. The city was burning but no one seemed aware of it.
Determined to raise the alarm, Marianne flung herself down the stairs and along the great gallery where sentries stood on guard. She ran towards the door of the imperial suite and had almost reached it when she saw Caulaincourt also, it seemed, making for the Emperor.
'Thank God you are here, Duke! I was beginning to fear that no one in the palace was awake. The city is burning and—'
'I know, Princess. I have seen it. My man woke me five minutes since.'
'We must warn the Emperor!'
'There is no hurry. The fire looks serious but it is not threatening the Kremlin. I have sent my servant to rouse the Grand Marshal. We will consult with him what is best to be done.'
The Grand Ecuyer's calmness was reassuring. Marianne had met him for the first time the previous evening, for at the time when she had been much in the Emperor's company Caulaincourt had been ambassador to Russia, where he had remained until 1811. But she had felt an instant liking for the courteous, intelligent aristocrat who, with his intellectual good looks and perfect manners, was somewhat different from the usual run of the Emperor's associates. Moreover she was sorry for his grief over the death of his brother, killed at Borodino, and respected the courage which prevented him from showing it.
With a sigh of resignation, she sank down on a seat covered in Genoa velvet and raised to his a face so tragic that he was forced to smile.
'You are very pale, Madame, and I know that you are barely recovered from a recent injury. You should go back to bed.'
She shook her head. The great wall of fire that she had glimpsed from her window was still before her eyes and her throat felt stiff with terror.
'I can't. Oh, warn the Emperor, I implore you! The whole city is going to burn, I know it is. I am quite certain – I have been told so.'
'Who could have told you such a thing, Marianne, my dear?' Duroc's voice spoke sleepily behind her. He had evidently been dragged ruthlessly out of his first sleep.
'A priest – a priest I met the day before yesterday at St Louis-des-Francais when I sought refuge there. He warned me – he warned all of us there, to fly and leave the city! It is doomed! Rostopchin threw open all the prisons and let out the dregs of the city. They have been given drink and money to set Moscow on fire!'
'But this is absurd!' Caulaincourt broke in. 'I know the Russians—'
'You know the diplomats, Duke. You know men like yourself. You do not know the Russian people. They have been leaving for days past, abandoning the city, their holy city. And the Governor has sworn that Moscow will not remain in your hands, and that he will use any means to prevent it.'
The eyes of the two officials met over Marianne's head.
'Why did you not tell us this before?' the Grand Marshal asked at last.
She shrugged. 'I tried to. I tried to warn the Emperor but he would not listen. You know how he is. But now we must save him. I swear to you that he is in danger. Wake him! Wake him, or I will do so myself!'
She rose and was already making for the closed door when Caulaincourt caught her arm.
'Calm yourself, Princess, I beg of you. Things have not reached such a pass yet. The Emperor is exhausted. For three nights he has not slept and the days have been hard. Let him rest a little longer, and you try to do the same. Listen, this is what we will do. You, Duroc, send to the Governor for news and have the Guard stood to arms. I am going to obtain a horse and ride out to see how matters stand, get together such help as I can. Something must certainly be done without delay. Ail available troops shall be mobilized to fight the fire.'
'Very well. Only don't ask me to go back to bed, for I could not. I could never sleep.'
'Come in here, then,' Duroc said, opening the door leading to the imperial antechamber. 'I'll leave you in Constant's care while I give the necessary orders and then I'll come back to you.'
'This is ridiculous,' Caulaincourt said. 'The lady—'
'I know the lady,' Duroc interrupted him. 'She is an old friend and I can promise you, my dear duke, that, with the exception of the Emperor himself, I know of no one more generally level-headed. Go and do what you have to do, and so will I.'
In the antechamber, they found the Mameluke, Ali, with two or three of his fellows, engaged in a fierce argument with Constant. Napoleon's valet was doing his best to calm them but they, like Marianne, appeared to be intent on waking the Emperor.
Duroc, with a few words, despatched them to their beds again, assuring them that they would be sent for at need.
'We will not wake His Majesty just yet,' he added firmly. 'He needs his sleep. And you are making noise enough to wake the dead.'
Constant lifted his shoulders philosophically and permitted himself a smile.
'The Grand Marshal knows that the court and the army are all alike. As soon as anything happens, they are lost unless the Emperor is there in person to assure them that all is well.'
'He can scarcely tell them so tonight,' Marianne said sharply. 'And if I were you, my good Constant, I would begin packing up His Majesty's belongings. You never know. And things might move faster than you think. What time is it?'
'A little before eleven, your Highness. May I suggest that your Highness should wait in the saloon until the Grand Marshal returns? It is a trifle damp, I fear, but there is a fire and the chairs are quite comfortable, and I will bring you a nice cup of coffee.'
Marianne smiled at him, marvelling at the way in which he managed to be invariably calm and efficient and as point-device as if he had just spent an hour getting dressed. He was, beyond all doubt, the perfect servant.
'A fire's the last thing I want to see tonight, Constant,' she said, 'but the coffee will be welcome.'
The saloon in question was an enormous room, divided into two halves by a massively pillared arch, the space between the walls and the pillars being filled by a pair of bronze tripods. The lavish gilding on both walls and pillars was dulled and tarnished with age. Sofas and armchairs were scattered about the floor and in one corner hung the inevitable icon in red and gold, depicting an emaciated Virgin with enormous eyes. Great, dusty carpets formed a pattern of islands on the black marble floor.
Marianne wasted little time in contemplation of the furnishings.
While she waited for the promised coffee, she went to the windows and pressed her face against the glass and stared out at the threatened Russian capital. The wind was gusting strongly between north and west, driving the flames towards the centre of the city and sending showers of sparks blazing down on those houses that were still intact, so that they very soon became a source of fresh fires. The demon of fire had Moscow in its grip and none could say whether that grip could be prised loose.
The coffee arrived at the same time as Duroc and the two friends drank it in silence, each locked in their own thoughts and doing their best to hide their uneasiness. Although they did not know it, the thoughts of the Princess and the Grand Marshal were identical. The city on which, in their different ways, each had pinned such great hopes, now seemed to them like a pair of jaws closing inexorably on the fragile human figures within.
At about half past twelve, another fire broke out in a district which had been dark until that moment. It was followed by another.
'The fires are spreading,' Duroc remarked, and his voice was strangely hoarse.
'The circle is closing. Oh, I beg you, my friend, wake the Emperor while there is still time. I am frightened,
