To de Montrond Roger said, ' Tell me, who is that beautiful woman who is acting as hostess for our host? '
De Montrond looked at him in surprise. ' Do you not know? But, of course, you have been long abroad. She is a Madame Grand and is known as ''The Indian" because, although the daughter of a Frenchman, she was born in Pondicherry. From her teens she has been a most notorious whore; but no one can deny her beauty and our dear Charles-Maurice has made her, for ail practical purposes, his wife.'
Roger needed to ask no more for, although he had never met Catherine Grand when he was in Calcutta, her name had still been a legend in Society there. At the age of fifteen she had married an official of the India Company named Grand. Her dazzling beauty had soon attracted the interest of Sir Philip Francis, a member of the Supreme Council of Bengaclass="underline" the man who, with vitriolic venom, had, as a friend of Charles James Fox and in the Whig interests, consistently thwarted the work of India's greatest Governor, Warren Hastings. One night, Grand's Indian servants had found a ladder made of sections of bamboo swinging from Mrs. Grand's window. Believing that burglars had used it to gain entry the servants had roused the house. Sir Philip had then been found in the bed of its luscious sixteen-year-old mistress.
Mr. Grand had promptly returned the young lady to her parents and sued Sir Philip for heavy damages. Although the case had gone against him, Sir Philip had performed the extraordinary feat of persuading his wife that his interest in his enchanting little mistress was no more than paternal; so she had lived for a year in their house. Then, having tired of her elderly lover, she had run away with a younger one to Paris.
From that point, de Montrond gave Roger her biography up-to-date. In the years preceding the Revolution she had passed through the hands of a long succession of aristocrats. During the Terror she had taken refuge in England. On her return to Paris the police had believed that she had been sent over by the English as a spy. In the hope of clearing herself she had requested an interview with the Foreign Minister. Talleyrand had consented to see her. They had talked through the afternoon and evening and, presumably, for some part of the night. In fact, she had never again left the Foreign Ministry until she moved with Talleyrand to the Rue Taitbout. Unblushingly he had installed her overnight in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs as his mistress, and from then on she had acted as his official hostess.
' But,' Roger protested, ' in Calcutta people said of her that she was the most stupid woman alive; that her brain is no bigger than a pea and that her whole conversation is sprinkled with absurdities. If that is so, how can a man of Talleyrand's brilliant intellect possibly have put up with her for so long? '
De Montrond laughed. 'You are right. She is the veriest fool, but when questioned about it he replies lightly that " she has the wit of a rose ". Quite seriously, though, he once said to me, " My dear fellow, you need to have been the lover of so intelligent a woman as Madame de Stael to appreciate the joy of having in your bed anyone so silly as Catherine ".'
The sally made Roger laugh, but the thought of Talleyrand's having been bewitched by a beautiful face and body reminded him of how he had himself been bewitched in Cairo by Zanthe. It was now just a year since the October rebellion there, and he had then known nothing of her mental qualities; yet he had risked his whole future with Bonaparte to break into the Viceroy's palace and abduct her.
He still thought of her now and then, sometimes with longing, sometimes with guilt. He considered it probable that, in spite of the blockade, Ouvrard, or some other Parisian banker who had dealings with Sarodopulous, would be able to get a letter from him through to Egypt for her. Yet, anxious as he was to let her know that he had not wilfully deserted her, he could hardly, in the same letter, tell her that he regarded himself as no longer engaged to her.
On the contrary, his conscience told him that he ought to ask her to endeavour to join him in France. Such journeys always had their hazards; but Sarodopulous could arrange a passage for her in a neutral ship, provide her with a suitable escort and furnish her with introductions to bankers of his acquaintance in all the principal ports at which she might have to change ship or be carried to by misadventure, so the chances of her arriving safely in France in two or three months' time were decidedly favourable.
Yet Bonaparte's having arbitrarily freed him from his entanglement seemed to Roger, in his more sober moments, an act of Providence. Much as he delighted in Zanthe, he knew in his heart of hearts that the main basis for their attraction for one another had been an overwhelming physical desire; and the thought that in a few years' time he would have for his wife a large Eastern lady who had run to seed continued to plague him.
There was also the point that, once the current crisis had resolved itself, it was his duty to return to England at the earliest possible moment in order to inform Mr. Pitt about changes of policy that the new Government in France was likely to make. And once home, the very last thing he wanted to do was to leave England again. But he could not ask Zanthe to join him there, because he dared not put on paper his reasons for wishing her to do so. So if he sent for her at all he would have to return to France to meet her.
Lastly, there was the tricky problem of his dual nationality. She still believed him to be a Frenchman. As nothing would have induced him to spend the rest of his life in France, he would have to tell her the truth about himself. Since she was half French, he had no means of judging how she would take that and, if she did agree to go to England with him, how was he going to get her there? It was one thing for a man like himself to make a clandestine crossing of the Channel in wartime, but quite another to take a woman with him.
All these considerations were inducements to continue to let matters slide; and the long voyage from Egypt, coupled with the excitement of once again being up to the neck in his old work, were inclining him, more and more, to think of her only as one of his loves of the past.
Before he left the reception Talleyrand drew him aside, but only for a few words. Roger confirmed that he now had nothing to fear from Fouche and Talleyrand asked him to breakfast with him two days hence.
Next morning Roger went to the Rue de la Victoire, where he found Bonaparte in a most evil temper. With him were several of the officers who had accompanied him back from Egypt, and all of them had long faces. The reason soon transpired. They had made all speed to Paris, leaving their baggage to follow in wagons. The news had just come through that the whole of it had been captured by brigands. As Roger had left Egypt with only the clothes he stood up in, he could afford to laugh, although he was much too tactful to do so. But the others had all brought rich cashmeres, silks and Eastern perfumes for their women, and jewelled scimitars, armour, saddlery, etc. of considerable value as souvenirs for themselves. With good reason they were cursing the Government that had allowed the country to fail into such a state of open lawlessness.
As Bonaparte's glance fell on Roger he snapped at him, ' Where the devil were you yesterday? You know full well that it was your duty to attend upon me.'
Actually Roger had been far too anxious about what Fouche might do to him to think of anything else, but now he was able to reply with a smile, ' Mon General, I was, as ever, being active in your service.'
' What the hell d'you mean by that? '
'Grant me but a moment in your cabinet, and I will inform you.'
Bonaparte's insatiable craving for information of all kinds could always be counted on. With a jerk of his head, he led the way out of the drawing room and across the passage to the room where he and Bourrienne worked. Closing the door, he asked sharply, 'Well? What is all this mystery?'