'You should not have let her.'
'I'd have liked to see you try and stop her. Do you know, we followed the Archduchess's convoy from the other side of Soissons? When Marianne heard what had happened at the palace, her feelings overcame her.'
'All that way in the pouring rain! It was madness. As for what happened at the palace, that was nothing to go into convulsions over. Good lord, to throw a fit because his majesty was in haste to see what kind of a bargain he had got!'
While the two men were talking, Madame Robineau, with the help of a maidservant, had been expeditiously undressing Marianne, now quiet as a baby, and tucking her into the big bed which the maid had warmed hastily with a copper warming-pan. The girl's sobs were quieter now although she was growing increasingly feverish. Her mind seemed calmer, however, and the violent outburst of grief which had shaken her had done something to relieve the worst tension, so that she was able to listen almost with indifference to Corvisart's rumbling voice berating her on the imprudence of riding about in the icy rain.
'You have a carriage, I think, and some very fine horses? What made you go on horseback in this weather?'
'I like riding,' Marianne said obstinately, determined to reveal nothing of her real motives.
The doctor snorted, 'And what do you think the Emperor will say when he hears what you have been up to, eh?'
Marianne's hand emerged swiftly from the bedclothes and was laid on Corvisart's.
'But he will not hear. Doctor, please say nothing to him! Besides – I dare say he will not be interested.'
Corvisart gave a mighty roar of laughter.
'I see. You do not wish the Emperor to know but if you could be sure it would make him very angry to hear what you have been doing, you would send me to him straight away, is that it? Well then, you may be happy: I will tell him and he will be furious.'
'I don't believe you,' Marianne said bitterly. The Emperor is —'
'The Emperor is busy trying to get himself an heir,' the doctor interrupted her ruthlessly. 'My dear girl, I find you quite incomprehensible. You must have known that this was inevitable – that it was the Emperor's sole purpose in marrying.'
'He need not have been in such a hurry! Why tonight —'
'Why take the Archduchess into his bed tonight?' Corvisart seemed bent on finishing her sentences for her. 'Because he is in a hurry, of course. He is married, he wants an heir, he sets about the business right away. What could be more natural?'
'But he is not properly married! The real marriage service is to take place in Paris in several days' time. Tonight, the Emperor should have —'
'— slept at the Chancellory, I know. He is merely making sure of his bargain. And there is nothing for you to upset yourself about. Lord, my dear, you've only to look at yourself in your mirror, even now, when you look more like a sodden spaniel than a celebrated
Marianne did not answer. What was the use? No man could ever understand what she felt at that moment. She was not such a fool, nor Fortunee Hamelin sufficiently discreet, that she could believe herself the first woman who had tried to hold the master of Europe. Napoleon had adored his first wife and betrayed her time after time. Even when he was deeply in love, this craving for change, this irresistible urge to polygamy, was part of the very essence of the man. And yet, however much she reasoned with herself, Marianne could not ease the dull pain in her heart. Did the physical shape of the woman he held in his arms matter so little to him? If that were so, why had he chosen her, Marianne? How deeply had she really stirred him? What place did she hold between his memories of Josephine and those of the golden haired Marie Walewska with whom he was said to have been so wildly in love in Warsaw?
Thinking that she was falling asleep, Corvisart softly drew the curtains round the bed and departed, accompanied by Arcadius. He had given her a cordial to drink and prescribed mustard plasters, rest and warmth. Before the door closed, Marianne heard him say in a low voice: The crisis is past and I think the chill will lead to no ill effects. It will keep her quiet at least.'
Marianne chuckled underneath her blankets. Quiet! When she could feel fresh forces bubbling up inside her, strengthened, perhaps, by her fever? She was not the woman to waste time lamenting her fate. She was a born fighter and now on this, another woman's wedding night, she suddenly found a new sense of purpose in her own life. Dislike was the first motive, a dislike so strong that it almost amounted to hatred for this Austrian – this great, indolent pink and white doll. There followed, naturally, the urge to cross swords with her, and measure her power over Napoleon's mind, heart and senses.
Why not deal her fickle lover tit for tat? Why not use against him the oldest weapon of all those with which the Devil has stocked the feminine arsenal: the self-same jealousy which had been tormenting Marianne herself for the past week? Already, she was famous. All Paris knew her name, her voice, her face. She had every means at her disposal to get herself talked about, from Fouche down to the news-sheets and Fortunee's witty gossip. How would the Emperor react to hear her name persistently coupled with that of some other man? It might be interesting to see.
'The whole of the Imperial Guard is in love with you,' Fortunee had said. It would be silly not to use their infatuation to penetrate a little further into the mysteries of Napoleon's heart. Of course, the experiment must be only in appearance, not in fact.
When Arcadius, on tiptoe, crept back into the room to see that all was well, she fixed him suddenly with her bright green eyes.
'That Austrian – the prince – is he still downstairs ?'
'Er – yes. It was he who insisted on my coming up to see that you needed nothing. At this very moment he is earnestly questioning the doctor about your condition. Why do you ask?'
'Because he was very kind and I did not thank him as I should. Will you do that for me tonight, Arcadius, and tell him that I shall be happy to see him tomorrow?'
Clearly, this request came as a surprise to Jolival. He stared.
'I will do that certainly, but —'
Before he could finish, Marianne had wriggled down into the bedclothes and, turning on her side, gave a very obvious yawn.
'Good night, dear friend. Go and get some rest. You must need it. It is very late.'
The church dock not far away was striking midnight and Marianne's sleepiness was not altogether feigned. The fever was making her drowsy. Tomorrow she would see the Austrian and be very nice to him. He might even offer her a seat in his own carriage for the journey back to Paris, and once back in the city she would feel better placed to win her battle with the two men in her life: the fight for freedom from Francis Cranmere and the fight for love with Napoleon.
Strong in this resolution, Marianne closed her eyes and sank into a restless sleep, broken by confused dreams. Strangely enough, neither the Emperor nor Francis Cranmere entered into those dreams. Marianne was struggling for breath in the green depths of some infernal jungle, enmeshed in silvery tentacles of weird vegetation, in flowering lianas that opened gaping mouths: she tried to cry out but no sound came from her lips. The more desperately she fought, the more terrifying became the feeling of suffocation. The green jungle rose and filled her mouth and covered her, and instantly it had changed into a raging sea with mountainous waves looming above her head. Marianne felt her strength failing, she was drowning. Then suddenly a hand appeared, groping down, down through the greenish depths, growing larger and larger until it held her in a warm grip and drew her back abruptly into the light. The figure of a man was there, etched against an angry sky, and Marianne knew quite suddenly that it was Jason Beaufort. He was looking at her with an expression of mingled sorrow and anger.
'Why are you so bent on destroying yourself?' he said. 'Why… why… why…?'
The voice dropped and faded away until it was no more than a whisper; the black cloak swirled about the retreating figure which suddenly became a bird and flew away into a livid purple sky.
With a scream and a sob, Marianne awoke. The fire had gone out and the room was dark except for the
