Jolival shut the box and put it into Marianne's hand, closing her fingers around it one by one as though to keep it safe. Then he rose and paced the room for a moment before coming to rest before her.
'There are state secrets which it is dangerous to touch and names whose very sound is death. Moreover, here again I have no proof. You can always try asking the cardinal when you see him, but it would surprise me if he were to give you an answer. The order keeps its secrets close, and I am very sure that if I had uttered Madame de Gachet's real name last night, I shouldn't be here talking to you this morning. Take my advice, my dear, and forget all this very quickly. It is a deep and dangerous business and full of pitfalls. We have enough to worry us without getting into such deep waters. And, if you'll be guided by me, you'll ask the cardinal to give you back the five thousand rubles, which we might well have need of, and to take the stone in exchange. I have a feeling it will not bring us luck.'
Later in the day, however, as Marianne was considering her wardrobe, trying to decide which dress to wear to dinner with the governor, she was told that a Catholic priest was below asking to see her.
Sure that it must be the cardinal, she hastily gave the order for him to be shown up to the little sitting room adjoining her bedchamber. She was looking forward to a long talk with her godfather and had made up her mind to do what she could to confirm or deny Jolival's suspicions. But, to her disappointment, her visitor turned out to be the cardinal's incorrigibly dismal secretary, the Abbe Bichette.
Even he, though, was an old acquaintance and for a moment she had some hope of learning something from him. But the abbe, looking more uncompromisingly gloomy than ever in a long black soutane that made him look rather like a closed umbrella, merely informed her that His Eminence was deeply distressed to be obliged to leave Odessa without seeing her. He entreated his beloved daughter to put her trust in Our Lord Jesus Christ and to accept his blessing and the letter which his unworthy servant Bichette was charged to deliver to her, together with an accompanying packet.
Thereupon he handed her a black leather wallet containing the sum of five thousand rubles. Marianne, a good deal surprised, was about to open the letter but then, seeing that the Abbe Bichette was about to retire, considering his mission accomplished, she detained him.
'Has His Eminence already left?' she asked.
'No. His Eminence is awaiting my return. Which means that I must hurry so as not to delay him.'
'I should very much like to go with you. How strange of the cardinal to go so soon! Surely he knows how glad I was to see him again? And we have not exchanged a single word in private—'
'He is aware of that, but it would not be wise to go with me. His Eminence would be greatly displeased. Nor does he like to be kept waiting, so—with your permission…' He was almost running to the door.
'Where are you going?'
This time she thought he would have burst into tears.
'Indeed I do not know. I only follow His Eminence and ask no questions. Perhaps that letter may tell you. And now I must beg you to let me go…'
He made a bolt for the door as though seized with a sudden panic, and as he went he picked up a low- crowned, broad-brimmed black hat of such a characteristic shape that Marianne, who had failed to notice it when he came in, could no longer doubt that Jolival was right. Bichette was a Jesuit. Not one very high up in the secrets of the order, but a Jesuit nonetheless. And seeing that he had, however unwittingly, provided her with the answer to one of her unframed questions, she did not prolong his torment but let him go. In any case, it was high time she read her letter.
It was very short. The abbe had already delivered the substance of it. Gauthier de Chazay only added that he hoped to see his dear goddaughter before too long and explained the five thousand rubles.
'The history of the stone is too dark,' he wrote, unconsciously repeating what Arcadius had said, 'for me to wish you to keep it, and that is why I am returning the money you gave for it. As to the stone itself, I ask you to take it back to France. It is worth a fortune and I cannot take it with me where I am going. Exactly six months from today, someone will come to your house in the rue de Lille. He will show you a disk with the four letters AMDG[7] engraved upon it and you will give him the stone. If you should happen to be away, I think you may safely ask Adelaide to do it for you, and you will have rendered a great service to your Church and to your king…'
This missive, which was, to say the least, extraordinary, coming from one whom she had always regarded as a second father, irritated Marianne profoundly. She crumpled it up and threw it across the room. Really, she thought, the cardinal was taking too much for granted. He had found her in dire straits and had rescued her, certainly, but then he charged her with a mission that was none of hers without even stopping to ask what she was doing here and what she might want or need. Take it back to Paris? But she was not going back to Paris! And what did he mean by that allusion to her Church and her king? She had no king, as the cardinal very well knew. The only sovereign she acknowledged was the emperor. So what did it all mean? And how long would people who claimed to love her go on thinking they had the right to use her and her time just as they liked?
Angry as she was, it still occurred to her that it might be unwise to leave lying about a letter from a man such as the cardinal, and so she set about recovering it from under the heavy chest of drawers where it had rolled.
She was down on her hands and knees poking at it with a sunshade when Jolival came in. He stood watching her in some amusement and when she emerged at last, flushed and disheveled, clutching the crumpled-up paper in her hand, he helped her to her feet.
'What are you playing at?' he asked her with a smile.
'I'm not playing. I threw this letter away, but then I thought I'd better burn it. But read it. It should interest you.'
It was soon done. When he had finished, Jolival took out flint and steel and set light to a corner of the sheet. He carried the burning paper to the hearth and stood watching it until it was all consumed.
'Is that all you can say?' Marianne asked angrily.
'What should I say? You have been asked to do something. Do it, and as I have already told you, try and forget all about it. Whatever happens, we shall certainly be obliged to return to Paris.' He took out his watch. 'And now, it is time you were getting ready for dinner.'
'For dinner? Has it dawned on you that I shall have to go alone? And that I don't in the least want to? I'm going to write a note begging to be excused… until tomorrow, say. Tonight I—I don't feel well.'
'Oh, no you won't. Come here a moment.' Taking her by the wrist he drew her over to the window. The air outside was full of the sound of drums, trumpets and fifes and the earth resounded to the tread of some hundreds of horses. A huge crowd had gathered around the barracks and was watching a long ribbon of movement, like a steel snake, winding up from the harbor.
'Look,' said Jolival. 'That is Prince Tsitsanov's two regiments of Georgians disembarking. From what Ducroux tells me, the governor has been waiting for them with some impatience. In two days' time he means to put himself at their head and ride to join the tsar's army, which is even now retreating before Napoleon's forces in Lithuania. If you want to secure Beaufort's release, it is tonight or never.'
'Arcadius, think of that note! Are you quite sure that Richelieu won't attach certain—certain conditions to his release?'
'It's possible. But I trust you to play the game and not get burned. If you refuse this invitation not only will you not get what we came for, you may even make Richelieu angry enough to see to it that you never find your friend. The choice is yours, certainly. Only choose fast. As I said, he will be gone in two days. It's not easy, I know—but now is the moment for you to prove what you can do in the way of diplomacy.'
As she still hesitated he crossed to a chair on which lay a number of dresses and, picking one at random, came back and dumped it in her arms.
'Hurry up, Marianne—and make yourself look beautiful. You may have two battles to win tonight.'
'Two?'
'Jason's release, for one. And after that who knows? You didn't succeed in keeping Kamenski's troops tied up on the Danube, but you may yet keep the Circassians in Odessa. You've only to make him see the impropriety of a Frenchman taking arms against other Frenchmen.' Jolival smiled at her with disarming candor.
Marianne clutched the dress to her and scowled at him indignantly.
'My godfather may be the Black Pope, Jolival, but there are times when I wonder if you aren't the very devil!'
