Margont attempted to disguise his dismay. His suspects had therefore all been invited to this reception.
‘Each guest was allowed to bring up to three people. When I arrived – late because I was being informed about last-minute problems practically all the time – it was only to discover a crowd of officers, Polish nobles, notables, wives, children, soldiers on guard duty … all of them being pampered by an armada of servants. Try to imagine an immense castle. As it was a clear night, the countess had set up outside an endless array of buffets: Polish, French, Italian, Danish, Indian, Creole … Valets provided the lighting by standing still with lanterns in their hands. Any sensible person would have planted stakes in the ground to hang the lanterns on, but no! Why make savings when you can throw money out of the window? Orchestras, dotted around the grounds, were giving concerts while fireworks crackled in the sky. To mark my arrival, the entire surroundings were briefly illuminated by sparkling showers of light and thousands of fireworks. It was like being back in the extravagant era of the Sun King. But it was even better than that because this time I was the Sun King.’
Margont blinked. How could anyone be so rich? And how could they waste so much money?
‘It was so luxurious it was grotesque,’ concluded Eugene. ‘But it was ideal for taking your mind off things. I whispered to Triaire that one or two more evenings like that and though I wasn’t sure whether the count would be given command of V Corps, I’d be pleased to offer him that of IV. The countess seemed to me quite a pleasant person, in the sense that she knew how to avoid overstepping the boundaries. That’s a very rare quality among courtiers. So she vaunted her husband’s merits – he’s serving in the Polish Corps – but she interrupted herself before my irritation surfaced. She had one strange quirk: she would disappear every hour and come back showing off a new dress and different jewels, in a crescendo of extravagance. That’s exactly it! With her sapphire necklace and her champagne-coloured diamond …’
The prince had raised his voice. There was a tense sadness about him. He seemed caught in a moment of futile protest against a past that could not be altered.
‘If Countess Nergiss had not been so obsessed with luxury, everything would have turned out differently, and a young lady I thought highly of would still be alive. In short, the evening continued its pleasant course, interspersed with the extravagant follies of our hostess, including cut-crystal glasses that she cheerfully invited her guests to toss into the air as soon as they were empty, a hunting party—’
‘But it was night-time.’
‘Do you think that was a problem for the countess? She had illuminated one of her woods with lanterns and had it surrounded by beaters before getting the gamekeepers to set the deer loose. I admit that we killed far more lanterns than deer. When the wood started to catch fire because of the oil from the lamps that had been hit by the bullets, the countess declared that it did not matter. However, this silly game came to an end and the fire was brought under control at an early stage. The countess’s next stunt was to parade past me the one hundred and twenty horses of her stud farm before presenting me with one of her handsomest stallions. That evening was a folly, I tell you! On the stroke of eleven, the master of ceremonies – a man always stiff and mannered – announced that a play was to be performed. Immediately, swarms of servants busied themselves in setting up an open-air stage and laying out hundreds of chairs. When the actors appeared, I was astonished. Because I knew them.’
The prince’s voice had changed, becoming less cold and more human. His account sounded less like an official report and had become more personal. Eugene even seemed on the verge of tears. But the exercise of power had taught him to hold his emotions in check, in the same way you would train a dog. No tears flowed.
‘Yes, I knew them. It was a Parisian company I had often seen perform. Oh, they’re not very well known but … you’re bound to know … As the whole of Paris knows about it, I suppose you do too.’
Margont noted that for the prince Paris was synonymous with the whole of France, that is to say, a hundred and thirty departements, including Amsterdam, Brussels and Rome.
‘I know Your Highness is having an affair with an actress.’
Eugene seemed about to fly into a rage.
‘Not an actress, an opera dancer! And an affair, an affair! One does not say to a prince that he’s having an affair or has a mistress. One says he greatly admires such and such a young lady. So, as you know, I greatly admire an opera dancer. Getting to know her has brought me into contact with other people from the world of entertainment. This friend of mine was very close to a person of real talent, Elisa Lasquenet. It was this young lady who performed for us that evening before being murdered. No one could fail to find her utterly charming. She was only nineteen and yet she already acted divinely well. I never tired of going to applaud her in her all too rare appearances. Oh, if she had lived, I swear to you that she would soon have had Paris at her feet.’
Margont said to himself that in addition to his opera dancer, the prince must also have ‘greatly admired’ this Elisa Lasquenet.
‘This woman had a wonderful talent, Captain, wonderful. What a waste. And all because the countess wanted to please me! After finding out well in advance – doubtless via her husband – that IV Corps would be passing quite close to her castle, she did some research into my tastes. She then offered this troupe of actors a princely sum to get them to come to Poland, thinking that I would be easier to influence than the Emperor. As in billiards, she wanted to hit the Emperor indirectly and I was the cushion. There’s calculation and determination for you! Heaven forbid that I should ever make an enemy of a woman like that!’
The prince paused. When he resumed, he spoke more quickly.
‘The performance lasted a good hour and a half, then the actors mingled with the guests. Elisa was stabbed a moment later, in one of the castle bedrooms that she was using as a dressing room. She had gone there to remove her stage costume.’
The account had speeded up considerably. Detailing the festivities, yes; detailing the murder was altogether another matter.
‘The countess noticed that the young actress whom she had engaged at great expense was slow to return. She sent her housekeeper “to ensure that Mademoiselle Lasquenet had everything she needed”. The servant came back saying that there was no answer to her calls. She had not dared to open the door. The countess went to the room herself and discovered the body. What self-control! She did not scream but ordered the master of ceremonies to keep guard at the door and came to inform me of the tragedy. At most she looked a little pale. She begged me not to let news of this incident get out, in order to preserve her reputation. I agreed with some relief, as I already had enough problems with the campaign without having my officers being suspicious of one another. The countess continued to supervise the party, though she did bring it to an end early. When people asked for Mademoiselle Lasquenet she said that she was unwell and resting. None of the guests were aware of anything at all!’
It’s she rather than her husband who deserves to be the possible replacement for General Poniatowski in command of V Corps, thought Margont.
‘She had paid the actors to speak their lines but she paid them double for keeping quiet. For my part, I informed the Polish authorities, demanding of them the utmost discretion. Fortunately, the culprit was arrested the following day.’
‘Really?’ said Margont in surprise.
‘He admitted to the crime. He’s an unstable Polish layabout, a lunatic who has already been put away several times. He passed himself off as a servant and melted into the crowd of domestics, which enabled him to have access to Mademoiselle Lasquenet.’
That’s why he kept on so much about the servants: he wanted to convince not just me but himself as well, thought Margont.
‘Why did he murder this actress, Your Highness?’
Prince Eugene seemed taken by surprise. ‘Why? How can you tell what’s going on inside the head of a madman?’
Obviously. It was so simple. This disturbed individual might well be the culprit. But he could just as easily be the ideal scapegoat for investigators eager to please the prince.
‘I am listening, Your Highness.’
‘But my account is at an end. Your task and this crime are probably not related.’
Eugene rose to his feet. This way of seeing things suited him best.
Margont interjected once more, ‘I would very much like to ask Your—’
‘Did you say something, soldier?’ the prince interrupted.
Margont was indeed a soldier. However, the words could also mean that if he persisted he risked losing his
