But she had no need to return to the floor above. She had no sooner entered the gallery, which was crowded with officials, soldiers and servants of the imperial household, when she saw Jolival. He was sitting on a bench against the wail and standing on tiptoe on the seat beside him was Gracchus, staring over the heads of the crowd as though looking for someone. At the sight of Marianne both of them gave vent to exclamations of relief.
'And where the devil have you been?' Jolival fumed, his fear transforming itself into bad temper. 'We were beginning to wonder if you weren't somewhere in that sea of flames trying to—'
'Trying to run away? To reach the road to St Petersburg? Leaving you here, of course? Surely you know me better than that, my friend?' Marianne said reproachfully.
"You would have every excuse for it, especially as you knew Gracchus was with me. You might have chosen your freedom and a flight to the sea.'
She gave him a small, sad smile and, slipping her arm round his neck, kissed her old friend impulsively.
'Come now, Jolival! You know quite well that you and Gracchus are all I have left now. What should I do on the road to Petersburg? I am not even wanted. At this moment, Jason is thinking only of the ship which will take him back to his beloved America, and to the war and – and everything that stands between us. Do you really expect me to go running after him?'
'Was there no temptation to? Not even for a moment?'
Marianne answered him unhesitatingly.
'Yes,' she said, 'to tell the truth there was. But I thought better of it. If Jason wanted me as much as I want him, he would be here, in Moscow, at this very minute, looking for me, calling my name at the top of his voice.'
'How do you know he isn't?'
'You need not play the devil's advocate, my friend. You know as well as I that he is not. Jason is riding away from us, you may be sure. Really, it's nothing more than I deserve. I was a fool. Why did I have to get him out of prison in Odessa and follow him here? If I had left him with Richelieu, he would have stayed quietly where he was all through his country's wretched war with England, unless, of course, he managed to escape. But I opened the cage door myself and, like any wild bird, he flew away and left me. It serves me right.'
'Marianne, Marianne, you are very bitter,' the Vicomte said gently. 'I am not the man to defend him, but it's possible that you are painting him blacker than he is.'
'No, Jolival. I ought to have understood long ago. He is what he is – and I have only got my deserts. There is a limit to how stupid—'
Her torrent of self-criticism and disillusionment was broken into suddenly by a loud babble of voices among which Marianne had no difficulty in picking out the Emperor's metallic tones. A moment later, the doors of the imperial suite were flung open and Napoleon himself swept through them. He was in his dressing-gown, his hair on end and the nightcap he had just snatched off still in his hand.
There was instant silence. The hubbub of conversation died away as the Emperor's fulminating eye travelled over the assembled company.
"Why are you all standing here chattering like a flock of old women? Why was I not called? Why are you none of you at your posts? Fires are breaking out everywhere on account of the indiscipline of my troops and the careless way the inhabitants of this city are leaving their houses—'
'Sire!' The protest came from a handsome blond giant whose Nordic features were framed in a pair of luxuriant golden whiskers. 'Sire, the men are no more to blame for the fires than we ourselves! It is the Muscovites themselves—'
'Come, come! They tell me the city is given over to pillage. The soldiers are breaking down doors, bursting into cellars, carrying off tea, coffee, furs, wines and spirits. Well, I will not have it! You, Marshal, are Governor of Moscow. Put an end to this disorder!'
Marshal Mortier, at whom this censure was directed, made a movement of protest which doubled as a gesture of helplessness, then turned and vanished down the stairs, followed by two officers of his staff.
Meanwhile, Napoleon was declaiming: 'The Muscovites! The Muscovites! It's easy to blame the Muscovites! I cannot believe these people would set fire to their own houses to deprive us of a night's lodging!'
Courageously, Marianne made her way towards him.
'And yet, Sire, it is true. I beg you to believe me! Your troops are not responsible for this tragedy. Rostopchin alone—'
The imperial gaze fell wrathfully on her.
'Are you still here, Madame? At this hour a respectable woman should be in her bed. Return to yours!'
'And there wait patiently until my blankets are on fire and I may burn to death proclaiming my loyalty to the Emperor who is always right? No, thank you, Sire. If you will not listen to me, I would rather be gone from here.'
'And where to, if I may ask?'
'Anywhere, as long as it is out of here! I've no desire to wait until it is no longer possible to get out of this accursed palace! Or to form part of the holocaust Rostopchin has prepared to the memory of the Russian troops slain at the Moskva! You may do so if you like, Sire, but I am young and I still wish to live. And so, with your permission—' She swept a curtsy. But the reminder of his recent victory had calmed the Emperor. Bending forward suddenly he took the tip of her ear between his fingers and pulled it, with a force that drew a yelp from her.
'Calm yourself, Princess,' he said, smiling. 'You will not persuade me that you are afraid. Not you! As to your departure hence, we forbid it. If it becomes necessary to leave, we shall do so together. But for the present, let me tell you, there is no such necessity. You have my permission only to withdraw and rest yourself. We breakfast at eight.'
But Marianne was not fated to return to her room just yet. As the uneasy crowd which had filled the gallery began to disperse, a platoon of soldiers entered briskly, led by General Durosnel, escorting a number of men dressed in a species of green uniform and several long-haired moujiks, apparently prisoners. Lelorgne d'Ideville, the Emperor's interpreter, came hurrying after them. The Emperor, who had been about to return to his own apartments, turned frowning.
'Now what is it? Who are these men?'
Durosnel told him.
'They are called boutechniks, Sire. They are the law officers whose duty it is to keep order in the streets. They were caught with lighted torches in the act of setting fire to a shop selling wines and spirits. These beggars were with them, assisting them.'
Napoleon started and his glowering gaze went, automatically, to Marianne's.
'Are you sure of this?'
'Quite sure, Sire. Furthermore there are witnesses, in addition to these men who apprehended them – some Polish shopkeepers of the neighbourhood who are coming after us.'
Silence followed this. Napoleon began pacing up and down slowly in front of the group of frightened prisoners, his hands clasped behind his back, throwing occasional glances at the men, who held their breath instinctively. Suddenly, he stopped.
'What have they to say for themselves?'
Baron d'Ideville stepped forward.
'They claim that they were ordered to set fire to the whole city by Governor Rostopchin before—'
'That is not true!' the Emperor cried. 'It cannot be true because it does not make sense. The men are lying. They are simply trying to shuffle off responsibility for their crimes, hoping it may earn them a measure of leniency.'
'Then they must be in collusion, Sire, for here come some more of them and I'll wager we will hear the same tale from them.'
It was true, another group had appeared, in charge of Marianne's old acquaintance, Sergeant Bourgogne. This time, however, they were followed by an elderly Jew with scorchmarks on his gown. It was he who, with a great many bows and sighs, explained how, but for the providential arrival of the sergeant and his men, he would have been burned, along with the entire contents of a grocer's shop.