Marianne and the Crown of Fire

'Well, what do you suggest?'

'Appoint a governor at once, Sire. The Gendarmerie is not enough. With your Majesty's permission, I should advise giving the post to the Duc de Trévise—'

'Marshal Mortier?'

'Yes, Sire. The Young Guard under his command have already taken up positions in and around the Kremlin. It is vital that he should be given overall control of Moscow.'

Napoleon thought for a moment, then: 'Very well. Send Berthier to me. I will instruct him accordingly. You may go.' The Emperor turned back to Marianne. 'To come back to you, my dear. Tell me the story of your adventures. I shall enjoy hearing it.'

'Sire,' Marianne cried, beseechingly, 'I beg you, let that wait, for I have something much more serious to tell you.'

'More serious? Good Lord, what's that?'

'You are in danger in this city, Sire – in very great danger. Believe me, you should not stay another hour in this palace – or in Moscow! For by tomorrow there may be nothing left of Moscow, or of your army either—'

Napoleon rose so abruptly that he almost toppled the sofa, and Marianne with it.

'What is this nonsense? Upon my word, you must be out of your mind!'

'I wish I were, Sire. Alas, I fear that I am all too sane.'

Then, since he made no answer, she went on hurriedly to tell him all that she had learned in the Rostopchin palace, of the arsenal at Vorontsovo, the balloon, the emptying of the prisons and the dangerous felons at large and of the abandoned city.

They will not return, Sire. Already, last night, fires have broken out. It will happen again tonight, at any moment, perhaps, and since there is not a single fire engine left in Moscow you are in deadly danger. Listen to me, Sire, I implore you! Leave this place! Leave before it is too late! I know that all those who value their lives must have left the city before tonight.'

'You know, you say? How do you know?'

She did not answer immediately and when at last she spoke it was slowly, choosing her words carefully so as not to risk involving her godfather.

'The night before last, I was obliged to seek shelter in the house of a catholic priest. There were refugees there – émigrés, I suppose, for I overheard one of them pressing his companions to quit Moscow before tonight at all costs.'

'The names of these people?'

'I do not know, Sire. I have only been here for three days. I know no one.'

He was silent for a moment, evidently thinking, then he turned back to her and sat down again with a shrug.

'Don't take what you overheard too seriously. It came, as you quite rightly thought, from émigrés, I am sure of that. They hate me but they have always taken the wish for the fact. The Russians have more sense than to burn their holy city on my account. Besides, I shall be writing to the Tsar tonight with an offer of peace. Yet, if it will make you happier, I will give orders for Moscow to be searched with a fine toothcomb. But I am not alarmed. To burn this fine city would be more than a crime, it would be a mistake, as your friend Talleyrand might say. And now, tell me your story. I long to hear it.'

'It may take some time.'

'Never mind. I have earned a little rest. Constant! Bring us some coffee! A great deal of coffee and some cakes if you can find them.'

As clearly and concisely as she could, Marianne described the incredible sequence of events which had happened to her since Florence. She suppressed nothing, not even those details most painful to her modesty. To her the man who listened so attentively had ceased to be the Emperor, or even her former lover. He was only a man whom she had once loved with all her heart and for whom, in spite of all his faults, his temper and the set-downs he could deliver so freely, she still retained a very deep affection, respect, admiration and a real trust. She knew that he could be cruel and even ruthless, but she knew, too, that inside this small man of genius, on whose shoulders rested the weight of an empire, there beat the heart of a true gentleman, whatever his inveterate enemies might say of him.

And so it was that she had no hesitation in revealing Prince Sant'Anna's secret and the reason why that great aristocrat had desired the blood of an emperor for his son. Yet, for all that, as she told him she did experience a momentary fear of what Napoleon might say. She need not have worried.

She was on the point of taking up her narrative again after a brief pause when she felt the Emperor's hand on her arm.

'I was angry with you once for marrying without my consent, Marianne,' he said, with the rare but very real tenderness which belonged to him alone. 'Now, I ask you to forgive me. I could never have found you such a husband.'

'What? You are not shocked? Do you really think—'

'That you have married a most exceptional man, and one of rare quality. You realize that, I hope?'

'Certainly. I could hardly fail to do so. But—'

He got up then and, putting one knee on the sofa, took her chin in his hand so that she was obliged to meet his eyes.

'But what?' he said, and there was that steely note in his voice which boded no good. 'Are you, by any chance, going to talk to me again about that American of yours? Take care, Marianne. I have always believed that you, too, were no ordinary woman. I should not like to have to change my opinion.'

'Sire!' she exclaimed in some alarm. 'I beg of you! I – I have not finished yet.'

He let her go and walked away from her.

'Go on then. I am listening.'

There had been a subtle change in the atmosphere which, for a moment, had become what it had been in earlier days. Napoleon had resumed his pacing of the room but he was walking very slowly, his head sunk on his chest, listening and pondering at once. And when at last Marianne fell silent he turned towards her slowly and his grey eyes looked consideringly at her for a long time, and once again the anger had gone from them.

'What do you mean to do now?' he asked her gravely.

She hesitated a little. She had, naturally enough, omitted all reference to Cardinal de Chazay's presence in Moscow and it was therefore impossible to declare her intention of proceeding to Count Sheremetiev's country estate. Moreover, if she had done so, Napoleon might very well have taken exception to this trafficking with the enemy.

Dropping her head to avoid his searching eyes, she said in a low voice: 'I thought – I thought to leave Moscow tonight. My friend Jolival is lying in the Rostopchin Palace with a broken leg and if there should be trouble it would be difficult for him to escape.'

'Where will you go?'

'I – I don't know.'

'You're lying.'

'Sire!' she protested indignantly, furious to feel herself blushing.

'No protests. I tell you you are lying, as you very well know. What you want is to go running after the cossacks, isn't it? Come hell or high water, you want to find this Beaufort because you are so besotted about him that it has addled your wits. Don't you see that he is destroying you?'

'That's not true! I love him—'

'What has that to say to anything? I loved Josephine but I divorced her because I wanted an heir. I loved you – oh, yes, you may smile, but I loved you truly and perhaps I love you still. Yet I married another because she was the daughter of an emperor and the foundation of a dynasty demanded it.'

'It's not the same—'

'Why not? Because you think you have invented love? Because you think that he is the one love of your life? Come now, Marianne – not to me! When you married him, did you not love the man I sent to the guillotine at Vincennes?'

'He killed my love. Besides, I was a child, infatuated—'

'Come, come! If he had not been the wretch he was but the man that you had pictured him, you would have adored him your whole life through and never looked at another. Yet you had already met Monsieur Beaufort—And myself?'