Marianne bowed her head. With the simple percipience of men who spend their lives dealing with nature as well as with men, the sailor had read her feelings like a book.
'Yes.' She managed a small, taut smile. 'It is painful but I would not have it otherwise. I have learned to my cost that everything in this world must be paid for and I am ready to pay the price of my happiness, however heavy.'
He rose and, bowing slightly, raised her hand to his lips. The hardness of his face frightened her suddenly.
'Are you going? Does this mean that – that you are no longer my friend?'
His rare smile swept for a brief instant across his face but there was a world of warmth in the blue eyes bleached by so many storms, so many nights spent gazing into the wind from a heaving deck.
'Your friend? I shall be that to my last breath, to the ending of the world. It is just that I am obliged to go. Here is my brother coming with two of our captains whom I had arranged to meet here in the gardens.'
Marianne clung a little to the roughened fingers that clasped hers. 'I shall see you again?'
'If it lies in my power. But where may I find you?'
'At the Hotel d'Asselnat in the rue de Lille. You will always be welcome there.'
Once again he pressed his lips lightly to the small hand imprisoned in his own and smiled but this time with a boyish twinkle in his eye.
'Do not be too pressing in your invitation or you might never be rid of me. You can't think how persistent we nautical fellows can be.'
He moved away to join the three men and Fortunee Hamelin heaved a great sigh.
'He scarcely so much as glanced at me,' she said with a disappointed pout. 'Indeed, my love, when you are by none of us stand a chance. Yet I wish he might have noticed me a little. He is a man after my own heart.'
Marianne gave a gurgle of laughter. 'So are most men, Fortunee! Leave me my corsair, you have plenty more. What about Dupont, for instance?'
'There is a time for everything. This one is something special and if you do not tell me the moment he shows his face inside your house I shall never speak to you again.'
'Very well. I promise.'
The little noon gun had just gone off in a neat puff of white smoke, and Marianne and her friend made their way out of the gardens to where the carriage was waiting for them in front of the Comedie Francaise. As they passed underneath the arcades of the erstwhile palace of the Dukes of Orleans, Fortunee remarked suddenly: 'I am worried about that Breton girl. I did not like that look of hers. You have enough enemies as it is.'
'I am not afraid of her. What can she do? I could hardly let her kidnap Surcouf. I should never have forgiven myself.'
'Marianne,' Fortunee spoke with unwonted seriousness. 'Never underestimate a woman's hatred. Sooner or later she will try and be revenged on you for what you have done.'
'On me? What about you? Who fetched the police? And by the way, how did you manage that so quickly?'
Madame Hamelin shrugged her pretty shoulders and fanned herself idly with a corner of her scarf.
'Oh, as to that, there are always some in any public place and they are not hard to recognize, are they now?'
Marianne said nothing. She was thinking about the peculiar series of coincidences which seemed to have been conspiring to bring together all the people who, for good or ill, had played a part in her life since her ill-fated wedding day. She had heard of people on the point of death seeing the whole of their past lives unroll before their eyes. Was something of the same kind happening to her and was her life about to take a completely new direction? The short-lived existences of Lady Cranmere and the singer Maria Stella were passing before her eyes once more before they vanished, to make way for what? What name would Marianne d'Asselnat bear next? Mrs Beaufort – or that of some man as yet a stranger to her?
The excursion to the Palais-Royal had certainly proved a distraction, but it seemed to Marianne that she had never known a day so long. She was filled with an overwhelming desire to go home, she was sure that there was something waiting for her there, but since she had no real excuse for returning to the rue de Lille fear of Fortunee's mockery kept her at her friend's side throughout her interminable shopping expedition. Besides, what could there be awaiting her but empty silence?
Fortunee was in the throes of one of her periodical fits of extravagance. She had always taken a childish pleasure in spending money but there were times when she would throw it about with a kind of madness. Today was one of those days. She bought far more things than she could ever possibly need until the carriage was piled high with parcels and packages containing scarves, gloves, hats and slippers, each thing more expensive than the last. When Marianne finally voiced her astonishment at this renewal of her wardrobe, Fortunee burst out laughing.
'I told you I would make Ouvrard pay for the charming trick he played on you. This is only the beginning. He is going to be snowed under with bills.'
'Suppose he refuses to pay?'
'Oh, he is far too vain. He'll pay, my love, down to the very last farthing! Just look at that ravishing hat with the curled feathers! It is exactly the green to match your eyes. It would be a shame for anyone else to wear it. I shall buy it for you.'
In spite of all Marianne's protests a smart pink bandbox containing the green hat was added to the impressive collection already filling the barouche.
'Think of me when you wear it,' Fortunee chuckled, 'and let it take your mind off your cousin's antics! At her age, to lose her head over a play-actor! Not that I deplore her taste, mark you. That Bobeche is a very pretty fellow, very pretty indeed.'
'In another five minutes you will be asking me to go with you to see him perform,' Marianne cried. 'No, Fortunee. I love you dearly but the kindest thing you can do now will be to take me home.'
'Are you tired already? And I wanted to take you to Frascati's for some chocolate!'
'Another time, please. It will be a dreadful squeeze and I don't want to see anyone but you.'
'You are so old-fashioned!' Madame Hamelin grumbled. 'All this absurd fidelity! And meanwhile his majesty is hunting and dancing and gaming and playgoing in the company of his blushing bride!'
'I am not interested,' Marianne snapped.
'No? Not even if I tell you our dear Marie-Louise has already managed to put up the backs of half the ladies at court and a good few men besides? She is thought stiff, awkward and far from amiable. A far cry from poor, darling Josephine and her delightful manners! How Napoleon can fail to see it —!'
'She is a Habsburg. He probably still sees her with the Austrian eagle on her back and the crown of Charlemagne on her head! He is dazzled,' Marianne said automatically, unwilling to discuss Marie-Louise.
'Well, he is the only one! And I can't imagine that she will dazzle the good people in the north who are to have the honour of admiring her in a week's time. The court leaves Compiegne on the twenty-seventh —'
'I know,' Marianne said vaguely. 'I know.'
The twenty-seventh? Where would she be on the twenty-seventh? The cardinal had given her a month to prepare herself for the bridegroom he had chosen for her. Their last meeting had been on the fourth of April. That meant that she should join her godfather by about the fourth of May, and already it was the nineteenth of April, and Gracchus had not returned. The time was passing horribly fast.
Unconsciously translating her inward trouble into words, she said: 'Please, take me home.'
'As you wish,' Fortunee sighed. 'Perhaps you are right. I have spent enough money for one day.'
Marianne's impatience grew as they approached the rue de Lille.
When the carriage reached her own house, she sprang down into the street before the driver could turn into the courtyard, and without even giving the footman time to let down the steps.
'Well really!' Fortunee exclaimed, gaping at her. 'Are you in such a hurry to be rid of me?'
'It is not you,' Marianne called over her shoulder. 'But I must get home. I have just remembered something important.'
