‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘Someone searched my room the same day that I met the committee.’
‘That’s hardly surprising. Although it’s a pretty useless precaution to take. Who would be stupid enough to leave anything compromising at home? We’re all searched, followed, watched ... By
others and by other members of the group! You learn to live with it >
‘Who is Catherine de Saltonges’s lover?’
Varencourt reddened. He opened his mouth but found himself incapable of replying. He seemed to be suffocating, like a fish yanked out of the water by a hook and dropped on the riverbank. ‘I don’t... involve myself in such things ...’
He looked very uncomfortable indeed. Was he in love with the woman?
‘Let’s leave her out of this,’ he finally managed. ‘She’s already lived through enough crises, don’t you think?’
He pulled himself together and looked Margont straight in the eye. ‘As we’re taking the gloves off, let’s take them all the way off. You must already know that Jean-Baptiste de Chatel was summoned to appear before the tribunal of the Spanish Inquisition. Well, it wasn’t only because of his heresy and violations of Roman Catholic dogma. He was also accused of acts of sodomy. I learnt that from Louis de Leaume one day when Chatel had yet again
contradicted him and acted as if he were the leader of the group. Leaume exclaimed, “You’re supposed to love me. Although not too much, of course. Didn’t the Inquisition succeed in putting you off such things?” Later, when I asked him about it, Vicomte de Leaume told me that Chatel had had an affair with one of the monks at the Abbey d’Aljanfe. In December 1812, Chatel tried to join the Knights of the Faith. But one of their committee members had emigrated to Madrid in the past and had heard about Chatel. The man revealed what he knew and Chatel was turned down. When Chatel wanted to join the Swords of the King, the Knights of the Faith informed Vicomte de Leaume. But he accepted Chatel nevertheless. And in the beginning they got on extremely well, even though today you would find that hard to believe. Flowever, since the Vicomte’s allusion to Chatel’s habits, they’ve hated each other. Now you know all that, is your investigation any further advanced?’
Oh, yes! thought Margont. He had already suspected that there was something else between Leaume and Chatel besides a mere power struggle. The assured, arrogant stare Jean-Baptiste de Chatel gave Louis de Leaume ... Perhaps Leaume was right and Chatel was attracted to him. His fury with Leaume might be the result of unrequited love. Margont also noted how Charles de Varencourt had eluded his question about Catherine de Saltonges. Varencourt had brandished the new information just as Margont had him in a tight corner. Like the Mongols in the Middle Ages, Varencourt took care never to empty his quiver. So when he was threatened, he always had some arrows to fire off. Margont decided to move in still closer.
‘So you don’t know who is the father of the baby Mademoiselle de Saltonges was carrying?’
A baby? And why was carrying?’
He turned his head away; he had obviously guessed the answer to the second question. When he spoke again, he was on the verge of tears.
‘You are a very skilled investigator. I had counted on always being one step ahead of you. But you have outstripped me without me
even being aware of it.’
He was again trying to steer the conversation away from Mademoiselle de Saltonges - the only subject that rendered him speechless. He was silent and looked off into the distance. He must be in love with her. Margont repeated his questions. In vain. When he took Varencourt’s sleeve to pull him out of his torpor, Varencourt looked at him in surprise, as if it was a stranger who had tugged at him.
‘Do whatever you want,’ he murmured.
‘Armed rebellion, a campaign of murders ... Now tell me about the third plan.’
Varencourt again looked him in the eye. He had dropped his mask of fear and now his eyes were full of suffering. ‘Ah, yes, the third plan. You have guessed that as well. Joseph wasn’t so stupid after all when he took you on as investigator. Yes, the third plan ... They do have one. But I don’t know what it is and, frankly, now I don’t care! No doubt you will find out what it is eventually. You discover everything whilst I’m just a poor blind man!’
His eyes were swimming with tears. But underneath the salty lakes, an angry, desperate light continued to blaze. Margont was seeing another side to Charles de Varencourt, who said, ‘I think we’ve talked enough today.’
All the same, as Margont turned to leave, Varencourt called him back. ‘I’d like to ask you a question. You owe me that. Suppose the Allies win, and Paris falls into their hands. Then imagine that you finally unmask Colonel Berle’s killer. Will you take the risk of going to the royal police to reveal what you’ve discovered?’
‘Of course!’
Varencourt had expected Margont to say that, but he still didn’t understand.
‘But why? Why not keep a low profile? Why risk going to prison?’ Perhaps Margont would not have replied in other circumstances. But he felt sorry for Varencourt.
‘You can’t understand, because we’re so different. I value justice more than my own life. It comes from my philanthropy, which is a quality that’s hard to bear, I can assure you. But that’s the way it is.
The Revolution changed my life, and gave me my love of liberty. And you can’t have liberty without justice. It’s difficult to explain. I can’t really find the words to explain my determination, but I do beg you to believe that it is unfailing. So yes, I will go on to the end of my investigation, even though I have personally nothing to gain from it and even if the sky falls in before then.’
Varencourt thought about his words. Thank you for the sincerity of your reply.’
‘Since we are sharing confidences, and I have never understood card players, I also have a question. Why do you enjoy it so much? What does it bring you?’
‘It makes me feel alive! Goodbye, “Chevalier”.’
They separated. As he walked Margont reflected that he had upset Varencourt so badly that he might try to exact his revenge by denouncing him. When you push someone to the brink, all he has to do is grab you and spin around and you will be the one tumbling into the abyss in his place ...
CHAPTER 32
EVERYTHING was ready! At least that was what Mathurin Jelent had assured Margont, who was hard at work in the printing shop. Outside, Joseph’s agents were keeping watch. He had never met them, and did not try to spot them. He hadn’t noticed them when he had gone out that morning to meet Varencourt in Rue de Rivoli - his life now depended on people he had never met. And he felt that it was absurd that at a time when two hundred thousand invaders were marching towards Paris, and when he might well lose his life in a shoot-out that very evening, he was engaged in printing fripperies! He brandished a proof, the ink still wet and shining. ‘What on earth is the point of this? “Madame la Baronne de Bijonsert has the pleasure of inviting you to her Spring Ball to be held at her house on 29 March.” And she wants five hundred invitations! She might as well have asked for two hundred thousand, because with all the Allies on the way, she could have a fine Spring Ball!’ ‘She’s imperial nobility ...’ explained Mathurin Jelent.
‘And so?’
‘And so she’s squandering her money, throwing it out of the window. She’s doing everything she can to spend a million in a week. Because if Louis XVIII comes to the throne, Baronne de Bijonsert will have to hand her large house over to Baron something or other - Baron Ancien Regime, that is - who lived there before the Revolution, and perhaps he’ll take some of her worldly goods as well. When you are about to lose everything, or almost everything, you might as well treat yourself to a lovely last evening of fun. No one can make you hand over your memories.’