'I am glad you have come, Breuc, because we shall all be active again shortly. I have today sent in my report to the Directors. In it I have said that a descent on England is not practical for the present. Before that can be accomplished safely our Navy must be built up to a strength which would ensure its protecting my flotillas from the British Fleet, and hundreds of barges will have to be assembled in the estuaries along our north coast to carry our men across.
.' Such preparations would require many months. With the ending of spring there will be little fog in the Channel and a foggy night would best favour our chances of landing without interference on the English coast. All this I knew when I set out on my recent tour of inspection, and I undertook it only as a blind. It is of the first importance that the English should continue to believe that within a few months an invasion will be launched against them. They will then retain such troops as they have on their south coast and, perhaps, even augment them. In any case, they will not send them elsewhere to some place where they might be used against us.
' It is important, too, that our own people continue to believe this. Your own arrival at Calais was most opportune, since it enabled me to launch my deception plan among General Riveillon's officers in a most natural manner. And it is certain that they will talk. All that I am telling you now is, therefore, of the highest secrecy.
' With regard to the future, I am determined to leave Paris shortly in order to win fresh glory for France. I have told the Directors that they must either give me the Army of the Rhine and consent to my invading the Germanic States with it, or allow me to take an Army to Egypt and so put an end to England's invaluable trade with the Levant. The choice, theoretically, is theirs. But you are aware of my inclinations and you may count on my making these fellows let me have my way.
' Such an expedition will need detailed planning and preparations of the greatest magnitude. For this I must rely exclusively on my Staff, since the strictest secrecy must be maintained. So get what sleep you may, while you can. From now on you will report to me each morning at eight o'clock. You may go.'
Roger clicked to attention, wheeled about and left the room. His head was in a whirl. Bonaparte had fooled him as well as Reveillon's officers, and he had sent false information to his real master, Mr. Pitt. That must be rectified as soon as possible and news of the Corsican's true intentions sent across. He was now also threatened with being carted off to Egypt and, perhaps, becoming involved in some wild adventure to conquer half Asia, which might prevent his returning to England for years. But, somehow, he would find a means of wriggling out of such a crazy business, even if it meant quarrelling with Bonaparte.
As he walked down the passage to the street, his mind still working overtime on this new situation, he suddenly noticed a black-clad figure advancing towards him. It was that of a man in the prime of life, who adhered to the pre-Revolution fashion of wearing his hair powdered. He was carrying a malacca cane and walked with a slight limp. Next moment, Roger recognized his old friend the ex-Bishop M. de Talleyrand-Perigord.
Halting, the Foreign Minister smiled at him and said, ' Breuc, my dear fellow. How delightful to see you. I heard that you were back. Why have you not called upon me? '
Roger had thought several times of doing so, but a subconscious nervousness about his ability to establish a satisfactory new relationship with de Talleyrand had caused him to postpone this delicate interview. With a smile, he said:
'1 had meant to call and offer my congratulations on your return to France, and your appointment as Foreign Minister. But, for the few days I have been in Paris, I have been prodigious busy, getting myself fitted with new clothes and a score of other tiresome matters.'
' New clothes,' de .Talleyrand murmured, putting his quizzing glass to his eye and lazily surveying Roger from head to toe. ' Your omission to look in on an old friend was not, perchance, on account of this gorgeous new plumage, I suppose. But I must say I find it passing strange to come upon an Englishman attired in the uniform of a French Colonel.'
When Greek Meets Greek
Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord had just passed his forty-eighth birthday. His face was chubby and inclined to be rosy; his mouth was beautifully modelled but had a slightly ironic twist; his nose was retrousse, and his eyes, under heavy lids fringed with thick lashes, were large and piercing. He was of medium height, had a slim figure and, despite his limp, moved with grace. His dress was always faultless, no man had more charming manners and he was an aristocrat to his fingertips.
His limp was due to his nurse having dropped him at the age of four and the subsequent neglect of the injury to his foot, which could have been corrected with proper care. The resulting deformity had repercussions which altered his whole life. As he could not go into the Army his parents dispossessed him of his rights, although he was their eldest son, and, early in his 'teens, put him into the Church.
He bitterly resented this and soon became the most irreligious priest in an age celebrated for its cynicism and immorality. He rarely wore clerical garments, even when created Bishop of Autun, but dressed in silks and satins with exquisite taste, and exercised his extraordinary charm in seducing a long series of beautiful young women at the Court of Versailles. At sixteen he had as his first mistress a charming little actress named Dorothy Dorinville. At seventy he was still to have a mistress and another Dorothy, who was his own niece—the Duchess de Dino.
From the first calling together of the Three Estates in 1789, he had, as a representative of the Clergy, at once made his mark— but in another role. By his able brain and gifts as a speaker, he had emerged as one of the leaders of the Liberal nobility. He was not an anti-Monarchist, but he saw the urgent necessity for sweeping reforms which had been long overdue.
As the Revolution progressed he had held many important offices; and when the breakaway from Rome was formally executed he became the first Bishop in the new, reformed National Church of France. In January 1792 he had been sent on a diplomatic mission to London. Having always held the opinion that an alliance between France and Britain was essential to the lasting prosperity of both countries he had, while there, strongly pressed for it, but without success. Later in that year, after his return to Paris, the Commissioners of the Convention had gone through the King's papers that had been seized during the sack of the Tuileries and had found two letters written by him, privately advising the King to adopt a policy contrary to the interests of the revolutionaries.
In consequence he had been denounced as an 'Enemy of the People', and had escaped from Paris only just in time to save his life. In London, where he returned, he was ostracized by the majority of the French emigres, and by a large section of the British aristocracy, because of the part he had played in the Liberal Revolution. So he had moved on to the more sympathetic atmosphere of the newly-created United States.
However, he still had many powerful friends and acquaintances in France who respected his abilities and, after the fall of Robespierre, they began to work for his return. Among these friends was one of his many mistresses, the clever intriguer Madame de Stael. She had persuaded Barras to allow him to return, and in the previous July she had secured for him the post of Foreign Minister.
Confronted by this shrewd and again-powerful man, who knew the truth about him, Roger did not lose his nerve. To have shown the least trace of apprehension would have given away the fact that he had something to hide. With a laugh, he gaily paraphrased Shakespeare: