Inevitably, after hearing from the other two, Marianne had to tell something of her own story. She did it as briefly as possible because she was beginning to feel extraordinarily sleepy, as well as slightly feverish from her wound. She dwelt especially on her fears for Jason and her sorrow at having failed to find her friends again. Then, overcome by emotion, she broke down and cried and Vania came and sat on the edge of the sofa and, throwing back the folds of her robe, laid a cool hand on her new friend's brow.
'That's enough of that kind of talk. You are feverish and should rest. When the porter comes up this evening, we will try and persuade him to let us have a better room so that you may have a bed at least. Until then, you must try to forget about your friends because there is nothing you can do to help them. When the French have entered the city – then I expect all those who are in hiding will come out again—'
'If there is still a city at all,' said a cavernous voice from the depths of the room. The two women turned towards it.
'Ah, Lekain! Here you are at last,' Madame Bursay exclaimed. 'What is the news?'
A young man of about thirty, fair-haired with a weak but not unattractive face and graceful in a rather effeminate fashion, stepped out of the shadows. His clothes would have been fashionably elegant but for the dust which covered them and he seemed on the point of exhaustion. His blue eyes rested on the faces of all three women in turn and he summoned up a grin.
'The longer I live abroad, the more I love my own country,' he declaimed, adding in a more ordinary tone: 'Things are going from bad to worse. I don't know if the Emperor will reach Moscow in time to save us. My compliments, Madame,' he went on, turning to Marianne. 'I've no idea who you are but you look as pale as you are beautiful.'
'This is a friend I came upon by chance,' Vania announced. 'Signoria Maria Stella of the Theatre Feydeau. But tell us quickly, young man, what is the latest threat?'
'Give me a drink first. My tongue feels like a dry sponge. It's too big for my mouth.'
'It will be bigger still after a good soaking then,' Madame Bursay retorted but she poured him a full mug of beer which he swallowed down with eyes half-closed and an expression of utter bliss upon his face. Disdaining such trifling matters as good manners, he smacked his lips and bolted down a slice of ham, helping it on its way with a second draught of beer, then threw himself down bodily upon a decrepit armchair which groaned under his weight, and fetched a deep, lugubrious sigh.
'Even when one's body may be doomed to extinction at any minute,' he remarked, 'there is still a great deal of comfort to be found in feeding it.'
'Well, you're a cheerful one, I must say,' Vania scolded him. 'What makes you think we may be doomed to imminent extinction, as you call it?'
The things that are happening in the city. The rumour is spreading that Murat's cavalry is hard on Kutuzov's heels. The civilian population is in full flight.'
'That's no news. They've been fleeing for three days.'
'Maybe, but this is somewhat different. Yesterday it was the rich, the nobility and gentry. Today, it's anyone who has anything to lose. Only beggars, the bedridden and the dying will be left. And by this time all of them are in despair because they are taking away the sacred images from all the churches and monasteries to keep them from falling into the hands of Antichrist and his marauding hordes. Near the church of Peter and Paul I saw the people escorting the wounded to the Lefort Hospital, throw themselves down in the dust at the feet of the priests, stretching out their arms to the icons and pleading for them to remain, crying that the wounded would surely die, and then move on before the priests so much as lifted a hand to ask them, such is the habit of submission among these people. But there is worse to come—'
"What now?' Madame Bursay said irritably. 'Why must you always save everything for dramatic effect, Lekain?'
'It's you I'm trying to save! Before leaving Moscow, that damned Rostopchin threw open all the prisons, letting all the rogues and thieves and murderers they contained loose upon the city. And they'll not leave it without filling their pockets. I saw a gang of them getting into the Kremlin by the Saviour's Gate – and I can tell you, none of them were stopping to bow to the icon there, nor was there anyone to remind them of the law! I think they'll probably break into every house of any size.'
'And you stand there moralizing!' Vania cried indignantly. 'We must warn the caretaker, tell him to barricade the doors and windows and – and – I don't know what else!'
Lekain laughed grimly. 'The caretaker? He's a long way off by now and probably still running. I saw him going off with a cartload of stuff as I came back. If we have to put up a fight, there'll be none but ourselves to do it. Besides, I shouldn't think we'd much to fear up here—'
Marianne had been following her new friends' conversation in silence, but now she voiced her own opinion.
'But this store room is near the main gate, isn't it? And surely they'll try to break the first doors and windows they come to? We'd be more likely to escape them in the servants' quarters.'
The young actor had been gazing at her with evident pleasure but now he smiled with evident intent to captivate.
'I said a moment ago that you were as pale as you were beautiful, Madame, and now I say that you are as wise as you are both. The servants' rooms in the attics seem to me an admirable refuge – unless the mob should see fit to fire the house, in which case we shall undoubtedly be roasted, or if—'
'If, if, if,' Vania broke in impatiently. 'You can prove anything with if!For myself,' she added nobly, tossing the folds of her antique robe over one shoulder, 'I'd rather be roasted than ravished!'
'You have the oddest tastes, then,' Lekain said with a grimace. "That's what comes of singing Dido. It gives you a fancy for a funeral pyre. At all events, I think the lady is right. We had better move. Since the caretaker has absconded, we should be able to break into the palace itself and get upstairs. We may not be troubled at all. Moscow is very large and there are many palaces. But in any case we shall be safer there, and it may enable us to hold out until the French enter Moscow. I'd better go and fetch the others.'
Suiting the action to the words, he left the store room and made his way across the courtyard to knock on the door of the little chamber where the other two actresses had taken up residence. Meanwhile, Vania crossed over to where Marianne was pushing back her cushions and struggling to rise and bent over her.
'How are you feeling? Do you think that you can walk – enough to climb up three flights of stairs? We will help you all we can.'
The younger woman looked up at the Italian with a washed-out smile.
'I must. I do feel a little faint still, but I think I can manage. Have I lost a great deal of blood?'
'A certain amount. But you must have an excellent constitution for it stopped flowing quite quickly. Come, I will support you.'
Slipping an arm under Marianne's sound shoulder, she gripped her round the waist and helped her to stand. There followed a bad moment for the sufferer who felt as if the walls were revolving round her and all the blood she had left had drained into her feet.
'Have a little more brandy,' Madame Bursay suggested, surveying her blanched cheeks with some anxiety.
'It will make me drunk—'
'As if that mattered! Once we are upstairs you can be put to bed and sleep. The thing is to get there.'
Marianne meekly swallowed a thimbleful of the aromatic spirit. A trace of colour came into her cheeks but it was at Vania that she smiled gratefully.
'Very well then,' she said simply.
While Madame Bursay made a bundle of their provisions in the remains of the torn-up petticoat and added as many cushions as she could carry, Marianne and Vania made their way with slow, cautious steps towards the door. The Florentine singer's arm was firm and steady and with her help Marianne was able to walk better than she had feared. However, she found that she had an odd, instinctive confidence in her new friend, and with it a feeling of having known her all her lif
e. It may have been something to do with the scent of roses that clung about the dark red robe, reminding her of Fortunée Hamelin.
In the courtyard they found Lekain struggling, with the assistance of two young women, one dressed as an ingenue, the other in a page's costume, to lift into place the heavy iron bar which secured the palace against intruders at night. By the time they had finished, they were all three very red and out of breath but this did not prevent them throwing themselves enthusiastically at the main doorway of the palace itself, consisting of an imposing pair of oak leaves framed by a colonnade. Lekain got the better of it without much difficulty with the aid of some tools he had picked up in the store room and, without pausing for introductions, the little band of fugitives swept inside. Their voices rang through the huge and splendid vestibule as though in a cathedral.
Impressed, despite herself, by the grandeur of the place, Madame Bursay chuckled and said softly: 'We must look a weird sight in our stage finery against all this marble and gilt.'
'Indeed?' Vania took her up at once. Tor myself, I feel perfectly at home here. One has only to know the right way to go about it.' And she proceeded to demonstrate how perfectly at ease she found herself in her surroundings by embarking on a spirited rendering of Don Alfonso's aria from Cost fan Tutte:
'Fortunato I'uom che prende
Ogni cosa per buon verso...'
all the while continuing to support Marianne up the length of the monumental staircase.
Louise Fusil, the girl dressed as a page, who had been nicknamed Rossignolette, or Little Nightingale, by her companions, joined her sweet voice to the Italian's for the fun of it and in a moment all the others had been carried away by one of those moods of collective hilarity which beset theatre people sometimes at the gravest moments, almost like a need for reassurance, and were playing away at imaginary instruments to accompany them. Marianne tried to join in but her injured shoulder hurt her too badly and she was forced to give up.
All the same, it was on the whole a gay little procession which made its way up to the attics and the servants' bedrooms. These, naturally, did not compare with the splendour of the rooms below and they found only plain deal furniture, straw mattresses and common earthenware ewers and basins. Even so it was a relief to Marianne to be able to stretch herself on a bed which, although unmade, was at least clean, which was not the case with all of those they found.
Vania remained with her and the others took possession of rooms near by, while Lekain went downstairs again and took it upon himself to explore the cellars of the palace, which he had been unable to do while the caretaker remained in residence, and procure food for the uninvited guests.
He came back bowed down with the weight of two enormous baskets, one of which contained the wherewithal to make a fire and an assortment of kitchen utensils, and the other a supply of food. From this second basket protruded the necks of a number of venerable, dusty bottles boasting some noble waxen seals.
'I have found marvels,' he proclaimed triumphantly. 'Look here! Champagne, caviar, smoked fish, sugar – and coffee!'
The word and its associations were enough to rouse Marianne who, overcome with pain and weariness, had been on the point of falling asleep.
'Coffee?' she cried, raising herself on one elbow. 'Is it true?'
'True? Only smell this, fair dame,' Lekain told her, waving the little canvas bag he had been opening under her nose. 'And I've brought everything we need to roast it and make enough for everyone. You shall have a cup of it upon the instant. Only trust me and you'll see that when it comes to coffee I am something of a genius.'
Marianne smiled, in amusement and gratitude.
'You are certainly a wonderful man. I don't know if this will be my last night on earth but at least I shall have you to thank for being able to face it with a cup of coffee inside me. There's nothing I like better.'
She drank, indeed, a second and even a third cup, for Lekain had not exaggerated his skill, disregarding Vania's not unreasonable warnings that it would keep her from closing her eyes all night. But Marianne had already passed one sleepless night in Ivan Borisovitch's inn and she fell asleep almost as soon as the third cup was empty.
She woke to a sustained noise and a strong sense of danger in the blackest part of the night, with the feeling of terror that comes of waking in a strange place. She could not remember in the least where she was, but then she made out Vania di Lorenzo's figure etched, with its diadem and plumes, against the lighter square of the window.
'What's happening?' she asked, instinctively keeping her voice low.
"We have visitors. It was only to be expected. This is one of the richest and most beautiful houses in the city.'
'What time is it?'
'One o'clock, or a little after.'
Marianne slipped out of bed, finding it less painful than she had feared, and joined the singer at the window but there was little to be seen beyond lights from below shining out over the trees in the garden. The noise, however, was growing louder all the time: shouts, laughter, a good deal of drunken singing and now and then the crash of breaking glass or a heavier thud announcing that some large piece of furniture had been overturned.
'How did they get in?' Marianne asked, for their window looked out over the garden and not towards the main courtyard and she had no means of telling.
'Over the stable roof,' came Lekain's voice from behind her. He sounded worried. 'I saw how they did it. There were two of them with ropes and grapnels and once inside they lifted the bar and let in the rest.'
'What are we going to do?' This from Louise Fusil who had followed him into the room. 'I wonder if we were wise to hide up here. How do we know they won't come up to look at the servants' quarters when they've finished plundering downstairs? We might have done better to hide in the garden—'
'In the garden? Look—'
A fresh mob had appeared on the lawn which lay below the terrace giving on to the main salons. In the light of the torches they carried, the watchers above could make out men with fierce, bearded faces clad in ragged blouses and bits of blankets tied with string. They were armed with pitchforks, knives and guns and they were advancing silently, like hunting cats, upon the palace which must have been shining like a vast lantern in the night.
'They must have climbed over the railings or over a wall somewhere,' Lekain said gloomily. 'That's cut off our retreat.'
"Not necessarily,' Vania answered him. 'There are two sets of back stairs, one at each end of this passage. I will stand by one and you by the other and if either of us hears anyone coming up we will try to escape by the other and out into the garden.'
'Very well. We can only hope that if they do come it won't occur to them to do it by both stairs at once.'
'Always the optimist, I see,' Vania retorted, and she swept off, as regally imperturbable as ever, to take up the post she had assigned to herself.
The four women who were left separated also. Madame Bursay and Mademoiselle Anthony went into one of the rooms facing the front of the building while Marianne and Louise Fusil stayed where they were, listening with thudding hearts.
Before long, the uproar had swelled to infernal proportions. The yells and screams reached fever pitch and were punctuated by loud, rumbling crashes that shook the whole solidly built edifice as though the earth had moved beneath it.
'Anyone would think they were tearing down the walls,' Marianne said faintly.
'Perhaps they are. But I think they have started fighting amongst themselves,' Louise Fusil answered quietly.
It was true that the cries from below had altered. The drunken bellowing and the yells of joy and triumph were mingled now with groans and shrieks of pain. Apparently the robbers who had entered by way of the park were endeavouring to persuade their fellows inside to part with a share of the plunder. To the listeners, suspended, as it were, above the tumult, the murderous orgy had something horrible about it, for it told them all too clearly that the moment when these human fiends
in their blind fury should discover their refuge, would be their last.
Marianne's heart thudded in her chest. Her hands felt icy cold and she had forgotten the pain in her shoulder. She slipped out quietly into the passage which ran down the centre of the house, illumined at either end by a round window above the stairhead. Vania and Lekain stood motionless beside the stairways, straining their ears to catch the sounds from below.
'Still nothing?' Marianne whispered.
Both shook their heads silently. Then, all at once, there came a sound of running footsteps and the clamour rose and swept outside as though the house had suddenly burst its bounds.
'I think they're going!' It was Mademoiselle Anthony who spoke, struggling to contain the joy that leaped in her voice. 'I can see a crowd of men pouring out into the street.'
'There's no one in the garden that I can see,' echoed Madame Fusil. "They won't bother to climb out by the same way. Come and see.'
The two sentries came running back and everyone crowded into the room where Marianne had slept. The palace was spewing out the ragged, hairy groups of gesticulating demons, dyed red with the wine they had been wallowing in, and probably with blood also, as a draining ulcer casts out pus. But the actors' rejoicings as they watched this dangerous rabble departing were short-lived. Louise Fusil brought them to an end a moment later with a strangled cry:
'Fire! They have set fire to the house!'
It was true. A ruddy glow was spreading out from the downstairs rooms and the clamour of seconds before had given place to an ominous roaring. The last of the looters could even be seen turning as they left and hurling the torches they carried back inside the palace, uttering savage cries.
'Back!' Lekain cried. 'Downstairs, quickly! We must get to the garden—'
They sped towards the staircase which seemed to be farthest from the principal seat of the fire. Vania would have supported Marianne as before but the girl would not have it.
'The coffee and the sleep have done me good. Only give me your arm. But we must hurry—'
[Marianne 6] - Marianne and the Crown of Fire Page 9
