As it turned out, she had no time to wonder what she should do with herself until Jolival's return. As she reached the marble staircase that led to her own room she was met by her butler, Jeremy, stiff and solemn as ever in his dark green livery. Marianne was not over-fond of Jeremy, who never smiled and always seemed to have some unwelcome news up his sleeve, but Fortunée, who had chosen him, maintained that to employ a person of such lugubrious and distinguished bearing lent tone to a house. Jeremy bowed, his aquiline features a mask of boredom and gloom.
'Monsieur Constant awaits madame in the music room,' he murmured apologetically, as though confiding some shameful secret. 'He has been waiting for rather more than an hour…'
A sudden wave of happiness swept over Marianne. Constant! Napoleon's faithful valet, the man most in his confidence and now, to Marianne, the guardian of what seemed a kind of Paradise Lost. Surely fate could have offered no better answer to her present anxiety and the agonizing days ahead? Constant's presence in her house meant that even on this day of days, Napoleon had thought of her in her loneliness and perhaps the Austrian's hold on him was after all less than Parisian gossip would have it.
Marianne cocked an eyebrow quizzically at her butler.
'I may as well tell you, Jeremy, that M. Constant's visit is very welcome, so there is no need to announce it as if it were a disaster of the first magnitude. You should smile, Jeremy, when you announce a friend, smile – do you know what that is?'
'Not altogether, madame, but I will endeavour.'
CHAPTER FOUR
Madame Hamelin's Lovers
With the patience that characterizes the northerner, Constant had sat down to wait in what comfort he could for Marianne's return. He even fell into a doze, ensconced beside the fire with his feet on the fender and his hands clasped on his stomach. He was roused by the sound of Marianne's quick footsteps on the tiled floor outside and by the time the girl entered the music room he was on his feet, bowing respectfully.
'Monsieur Constant! I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. I am so glad to see you, and today of all days! I should have thought no force on earth would have dragged you from the palace.'
'No occasion is important enough to outweigh the Emperor's orders, Mademoiselle Marianne. He commands – and behold, I obey. As for keeping me waiting, think nothing of it. I have been enjoying the peace of your house as a change from all the excitement.'
'He thought of me,' Marianne said involuntarily, shaken by this unexpected happiness, coming on top of the horror she had experienced in the place de la Concorde.
'Indeed – I believe his majesty thinks of you very often. At all events,' he continued, declining the seat to which his hostess waved him, 'I am charged to deliver my message to you and return to the palace forthwith.' He moved across to the harpsichord and picked up the heavy canvas bag which lay there. 'The Emperor instructed me to hand you this, Mademoiselle Marianne, with his compliments. It contains twenty thousand livres.'
'Money?' she exclaimed, flushing. 'But —'
Constant allowed her no time to protest.
'It occurred to his majesty that you might be in need of funds at this present time,' he said, smiling. 'Moreover, this is in the nature of a remuneration for your services which I am to engage for the day after tomorrow.'
'The Emperor wishes me to —'
'To sing at the reception to be held at the Tuileries. I have the invitation here.' He drew the card from his pocket and presented it to Marianne. Ignoring it, the girl clasped her arms across her breast and went slowly to one of the windows overlooking the small garden. The fountain pattered softly into the grey stone basin, under the smiling gaze of the cupid on the dolphin. Marianne watched it for a moment without speaking. Disturbed by her silence, Constant came towards her.
'Why don't you answer? You will come, of course?'
'I – Constant, I do not want to! To be obliged to curtsey to that woman, sing for her – I couldn't.'
'I am afraid you must, however. The Emperor was far from pleased that you did not come to Compiègne and Madame Grassini suffered for his displeasure. If you fail him this time you must be prepared for his anger.'
'His anger?' Marianne swung round suddenly. 'Can't he understand how it feels to see him with that woman at his side? I was in the place de la Concorde just now and I saw them ride past, smiling and triumphant and so full of happiness that it hurt. He makes himself ridiculous to please her! That absurd dress, that head-dress —'
'Oh, that dreadful head-dress,' Constant said, laughing. 'It certainly gave us some trouble. Half an hour it took us to set it at a reasonable angle – and even then, I confess, it was not a success.'
Constant's good humour did something to relax Marianne's nerves but her evident distress had not escaped the Emperor's valet and it was in a more serious tone that he continued:
'As for the Empress, I think that you, like all of us, must regard her simply as the symbol and promise of a future dynasty. It is my sincere belief that the Emperor is inclined to value her birth above her person.'
Marianne shrugged.
'Indeed!' she said sullenly. 'I have heard that after that famous night at Compiègne, he took one of his associates aside and told him: "Marry a German, my friend, they are the best women in the world: sweet, kind, innocent and fresh as roses!" Did he say that or no?'
Constant shifted his eyes and moved away to pick up his hat from a chair. He stood for a moment turning it between his hands but he looked up at Marianne at last and there was a touch of sadness in his smile.
'Yes, he said that, but it means little beyond an expression of relief. Remember, she is a Habsburg, the daughter of the man he defeated at Wagram. He might have looked for pride, resentment, even rejection. This placid princess is reassuring, she is a little awkward and nervous, like a country cousin. I think he is profoundly grateful. As for love, if he was as much in love with her as you would like to imagine, would he have thought of you today? No, Mademoiselle Marianne, believe me, come and sing for him, if not for her. And tell yourself that it is Marie-Louise who should fear comparison, not you. Will you come?'
Defeated, Marianne bowed her head in consent.
'I will come. You may tell him so. And tell him,' she added with an effort, indicating the bag of coins, 'that I thank him.' It hurt her to accept the money but as matters stood at present it was very welcome and Marianne could not afford the luxury of refusal.
Arcadius weighed the bag in his hands and laid it back on the writing-table with a sigh.
'The Emperor is generous. It is a good sum, but not nearly enough to satisfy our friend. We need more than twice as much and unless you ask his Majesty to prove himself more generous still…'
'No!' Marianne cried, flushing. 'Not that! I could not! Besides, I should have to explain, tell him everything. Then the Emperor would set the police on Adelaide's track – and you know what will happen when Fouché's men come on the scene.'
Arcadius felt in his waistcoat pocket and produced a pretty snuff box of tortoiseshell bound with gold, a present from Marianne, and helped himself luxuriously to a pinch of snuff. The time was nearly nine o'clock and he had just returned to the house, apparently no more ready to explain his mission than he had been at the start. He restored the box to his pocket and smoothed the little bump it made there with his fingers, dreamily, as if in contemplation of a particularly agreeable idea. At last he said: 'We need have no fear of that happening. None of Fouché's agents will lift a finger to find Mademoiselle Adelaide, even if we were to ask them.'