Once out of the room, she walked straight ahead, like a sleepwalker, not even seeing Rustan who looked at her with big, horrified eyes, not even thinking to throw her cloak over her bare shoulders. She was dazed with grief, too numb to feel the full pain. Shock had formed a merciful cushion around her which, as it melted away, would give place to the real suffering, in all its sharpness and cruelty. She did not even think what she was going to do, what would happen now. No. Nothing mattered to her at all, nothing except this dull burning pain within her.
She went down the stairs without so much as seeing them and did not turn, even when a breathless voice called after her. Not until Duroc took the cloak from her to place it round her shoulders was she aware of his presence.
'Where are you off to so fast, mademoiselle? I hope you did not mean to go out by yourself at this hour of night?'
'I? Oh, I do not know. It doesn't matter—'
'How's that? Doesn't matter?'
'I mean – I can easily walk. Don't trouble yourself.'
'Don't talk foolishness! You do not even know the way. You'd get lost – and, here, take this.'
He thrust a handkerchief into her hands but she did not use it. It wasn't until the Grand Marshal of the Palace gently wiped her cheeks that she realized that she was crying. He handed her carefully into the carriage and wrapped a fur rug round her knees, then went to give some orders to the coachman before climbing in beside her.
The coach was on its way before Marianne moved a muscle. She seemed like one thunderstruck. She huddled into the cushions like a hurt animal, seeking only silence and darkness. Her eyes looked out unseeingly at the passing spectacle of Paris by night. For a time, Duroc watched his young companion in silence but then, as the tears began again, running slowly down her cheeks while she made no move to stop them, he began trying clumsily to comfort her.
'You must not upset yourself so,' he murmured gently. 'The Emperor is often harsh, but he is not unkind. You have to understand what it means to have an empire stretching from Ushant to the Niemen and from Denmark to Gibraltar resting on the shoulders of a single man—'
The words came to Marianne as though through a fog. For her, that gigantic empire had only one meaning. It had made its master into a monster of pride and a ruthless autocrat. However, encouraged perhaps by hearing her sigh, Duroc went on:
'You see, the fifth anniversary of the coronation was celebrated two months ago and a fortnight later, the Emperor divorced his wife for the sake of assuring the crown, which still seems to him so precarious. He lives in a state of constant uneasiness because only the power of his will and his genius keeps this unlikely mosaic of peoples together. His brothers and sisters, though he has made them sovereigns, are incompetents, thinking only of their own interests and ignoring those of the Empire. Think how many victories it has taken to weld all this together since the Italian campaigns first made him Emperor of the French! Six great battles since the sun of Austerlitz, and that scarcely four years old, to say nothing of the endless fighting in Spain… Jena, Auerstadt, Eylau, Friedland, Essling, where he lost his best friend, Marshal Lannes, and then Wagram where he defeated the man whose daughter he is now about to marry. If the Empire is to continue, there must be an heir – even if he has to sacrifice a little of his heart to achieve it, for he loved his wife. The Emperor is alone against them all, between the changeable moods of an unstable Tsar and the hatred of England, hanging like a bulldog to his coat tails. And so – when there are times when you think you could hate him, when he rouses feelings of anger and revolt in you, you must think of all that. He needs to be understood – and it is not easy.'
He fell silent, exhausted perhaps, with the effort of saying so much. But his plea, even if it found a way to Marianne's heart, only added to her grief. Understand Napoleon? She asked nothing better! But would he let her? He had driven her away, flung her back into the shadows, into the anonymous and faceless crowd of his subjects from which, for an instant, he had plucked her.
She looked at the grand Marshal who, still bent towards her, seemed to expect a reply, and nodded sadly, murmuring the thought that was in her mind.
'I wish I had the right to understand him – but he will not let me.'
Then she huddled back again in her corner and resumed her melancholy thoughts. Seeing she was not going to speak again, Duroc sighed and settling himself as comfortably as possible in his own corner, closed his eyes.
Time must have stood still. Numbed and incapable of thought, Marianne had paid no attention to the route, which was in any case one she did not know. Even so, after the passing of a period of time whose length she had no means of estimating, she did begin to feel that the journey was unusually long. She looked out of the window and saw that the carriage was now travelling through open country. The night was bright enough for her to be in no doubt on this score. She turned to her companion and spoke abruptly.
'If you please? Where are we going?'
Startled awake, the Emperor's confidant sat up with a jerk and glanced wildly at Marianne.
'I – you were saying?'
'I was asking where we were going?'
'Er – well, that is – where I was told to take you.'
This as good as told her that she would get no answer to her question. Perhaps he was cross with her for refusing to talk to him? But, in her heart of hearts, she did not greatly care. Napoleon must have decided to send her away from Paris in order to be thoroughly rid of her. They were probably taking her to some chateau a long way away, a prison where it would be easier to forget than in Paris. And the Emperor would no doubt feel that a woman who had once received his favours could not be shut up in any common prison. But she had no illusions as to her fate, and not much interest either. Later, when she was not so tired – then she would try and see if she still had any will to fight.
The carriage passed through tall gates and entered what seemed to be a park. They drove along a paved avenue and drew up at last before a lighted entrance. Still half dazed, Marianne caught a glimpse of the pink marble columns of a vast peristyle which had been enclosed with glass windows, [9] the magnificent extent of a large, low palace surmounted by a marble balustrade, a few splendid rooms, in the best Empire style, through which she was led by a servant in a powdered wig, carrying a heavy branched candlestick. Duroc had vanished as soon as they were inside, without her even noticing. A door opened, revealing a room decorated in beige satin and deep mauve velvet. And Marianne found herself suddenly face to face with Napoleon.
He was sitting in a claw-footed armchair by the fire, watching her with a teasing smile, evidently enjoying her bewilderment as she struggled vainly to get her thoughts into some kind of order. She had a gloomy feeling that she must be going mad. She felt deathly tired, her body ached and her legs felt like jelly. It did not occur to her to curtsey, or make the least polite acknowledgment of his presence. She simply leaned back against the door post.
'I wish I understood—' she murmured.
'What? How I could be here before you? It's quite simple. Duroc had orders to take you a long way round before reaching the Trianon.'
'No – it's you I wish I understood. What, exactly, do you want of me?'
He stood up at last and came towards her and tried to take her in his arms but she resisted. Far from being angry now, he merely smiled briefly.
'A test, Marianne, a simple test. I wanted to know just what kind of woman you were. Remember, I hardly know you. You fell from the skies one night like a beautiful meteor, but you could have been any number of things: a clever adventuress, a courtesan, an agent of the princes, an unusually devoted friend of our dear Talleyrand – and you must admit the last was the most likely. Hence this test – I had to know just what you were.'
'A test that could have been the death of me—' Marianne murmured, still too shaken to feel in the least comforted.
Even so, Duroc's words were gradually coming back to her. She realized that they had made their way into
