The harder Maggie fought, the more distant he would have become. Love would have died, and they would have made each other miserable. It was all tragically clear.
Since she had just proved how lucky she was that Rafe had broken their engagement, why didn't that conclusion make her happy?
Despairingly Maggie laid her forearm over her eyes in a vain attempt to block out images of Rafe, and the memory of how his touch dissolved her common sense and self-control.
It was feeble comfort to know that her greatest significance in his life was to be the one woman he had propositioned who hadn't accepted. But was that really better than nothing?
Maggie and Rafe's visit to the Louvre with the Roussayes turned out to be educational in unexpected ways. Napoleon had looted art treasures wherever he went, then installed them in the old palace. It had been named the Musee Napoleon and state receptions had been held in the magnificent galleries.
Art had become a major point of contention during the treaty negotiations. The conquered nations understandably wanted their paintings and sculptures back, while the French royalists and Bonapartists were united in their desire to retain the fruits of conquest. The issue was still unresolved, though the Allies were bound to win in the end; the only sovereign who favored letting the French keep their spoils was the Russian tsar, who had lost no art himself.
When the two couples stopped in front of a magnificent Titian, Roussaye made an oblique reference to the ongoing dispute, saying, "We must admire these while we can. Never has such a collection been seen before, and perhaps the world will never see its equal again."
They were regarding the superb canvas respectfully when an unexpected voice came from behind them. "You are quite correct, General Rosssaye. This museum is one of the finest fruits of the empire."
The dark, whispery voice made the hair on Maggie's neck prickle. She turned to see the Count de Varenne.
Michel Roussaye said coolly, "I am surprised to hear a royalist approve any of Bonaparte's acts."
The count smiled. "I am a royalist, not a fool, General Roussaye. The emperor was the colossus of our age, and only a fool would attempt to deny that."
His words produced a noticeable thawing in the general's expression.
Varenne continued, "Like you, I am here to say good-bye to some of my favorite paintings."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when a commotion sounded farther down the gallery. Amid French shouts, the stamp of marching feet heralded the entrance of a company of soldiers. Maggie recognized the uniforms as Prussian. As museumgoers watched in disbelief, the soldiers started unhooking paintings from the wall.
General Roussaye swiftly crossed to the Prussians and demanded furiously, "By what authority do you do this?"
The Prussian commander turned, and Maggie recognized Colonel von Fehrenbach. Expression coldly satisfied, the colonel said, "By the authority of ownership. Since the negotiators are no closer to a just settlement now than they were in July, Prussia takes what is hers."
Intent on observing every word and nuance of the confrontation, Maggie started to follow Roussaye across the gallery. Rafe stopped her in her tracks by clamping his hand around her wrist.
"Keep out of it," he said in a voice that allowed no argument.
Maggie considered defying him on general principles, but common sense made her concede the point and stay at his side.
Count de Varenne had gone to stand by his countryman. Though his tone was less fierce, he sounded equally hostile when he said, "The Congress of Vienna allowed France to keep her treasures, and it is by no means certain that that decision will be reversed. What you are doing is theft."
The tall Prussian was unmoved, "Say what you will,I am here by my king's orders. We have both might and right on our side, and will brook no interference."
The soldiers began packing paintings in wooden cases that they had brought. A crowd of sullen-faced French citizens had gathered around the disputing men. Briefly Maggie wondered if they might rush the soldiers, but the moment passed and the bystanders remained passive.
Varenne's sibilant voice said, "Do not be so righteous, Colonel. Many of the artworks that the Allies are so virtuously reclaiming were stolen in the first place. The bronze horses of St. Mark's, for example, which the Venetians plundered from Constantinople."
Von Fehrenbach looked cynically amused. "I don't deny it, but the nature of loot defies easy moralizing."
Roussaye said tightly, "All nations may be looters, but only France has made such beauty available to all. Even the poorest of the poor can come here to glory in the sight."
"Quite right, the French are the most efficient thieves in history," the colonel agreed. "You studied guidebooks and sent artists to ensure that you missed none of the best pieces. The emperor even made the Vatican pay the cost of shipping his spoils to Paris. But don't forget what Wellington himself said-loot is what you can get your bloody hands on and keep."
Von Fehrenbach turned back to his men, but said over his shoulder, "And France bloody well can't keep these."
It was fortunate that the colonel had brought such a sizable troop of soldiers, because his words caused a rumble of impotent rage to rise from the watchers.
After a frozen moment, General Roussaye spun on his heel and returned to his companions. "I think it best that we leave now." He took his wife's arm, leading her down the gallery away from the soldiers as Maggie, Rafe, and Varenne silently followed.
Word of the assault on the Louvre had spread quickly, and outside a crowd was gathering in the Place du Carrousel. Under the shadow of the great victory arch that carried the bronze horses of St. Mark's, Maggie and her companions were privileged to see the Venus de Medici being carried out feet first, followed by the Apollo Belvedere.
Nearby, a young man in a paint-smudged smock gave a howl of anguish. "Oh, if only Wellington had ordered the removal to take place at night, so we should be spared the horror of seeing them torn away from us!"
Though the artist's anguish was vivid, Maggie could not help thinking tartly that the Venetians and Prussians and other victims of Napoleon's greed had felt equal pain.
Behind her, Rafe said softly, "Wellington is being blamed for this, more's the pity. His popularity with the French will vanish quickly."
Roussaye turned to face them, his wife clinging to his arm with distress in her huge black eyes. "I fear that I will not be good company for some time," the general said with admirable composure. "Pray forgive us for taking our leave now."
Ever urbane, Rafe said, "Of course, General Roussaye, Cousin Filomena. Perhaps we can meet again for a less controversial engagement."
The general smiled humorlessly. "Nothing in France is without controversy."
Varenne spoke up for the first time since they had left the Prussians. "All France shares your outrage, General."
As she saw the two dangerous, capable Frenchmen share a sympathetic glance, Maggie had the disquieting thought that France would again be the most dangerous country in Europe if the royalists and Bonapartists ever united. Thank God that there was too much hatred between the factions for that to happen any time soon.
After the Roussayes departed, Varenne said to Maggie and Rafe, "I'm sorry you were subjected to such a scene. I had heard rumors that the Prussians were growing restive over the pace of the negotiations, but no one expected them to move so quickly."
"I'm afraid that matters will be worse before they get better," Rafe said. "The art controversy is becoming a symbol of all the conflicts of the peace conference."
"The situation is very volatile," Varenne agreed. "As I'm sure you know, the king's government is in disarray, and I fear that Richelieu is not strong enough to maintain order." Putting aside his dark mood, he smiled at Maggie. "I should not talk of such things before a lady."