Marianne and The Masked Prince

by Жюльетта Бенцони

  'Here – there's a fight going on!' Jolival exclaimed. 'I'll lay you it's your friend and Fauche-Borel! Bobèche and Galimafré seem to be enjoying it at any rate.'

  'Who?'

  'The pair of clowns you see slapping their thighs up there.' Arcadius pointed with his stick. 'The pretty fellow in the red waistcoat, yellow trousers and blue stockings with the red wig and the big butterfly on the length of wire is Bobèche. The other one, the tall, gangling creature with the long face and vacant grin, is Galimafré. They are newcomers to the boulevard but already they have had a great success.'

  The two buffoons were shouting robust encouragement to the combatants, accompanying their words with much witty downing, but Marianne only shook her head.

  'Please come away. Black Fish knows where to find us, he will come and tell us the end of the story.'

  'Oh, as to that, there can be no doubt. Fauche-Borel is not up to his weight – but you are tired, aren't you?'

  'Yes, a little.'

  Slowly, avoiding the crowds, they made their way back to the Jardin Turc where they had left the carriage. Jolival helped Marianne inside, flung the direction at the driver and then climbed in himself, taking care to stow the wallet safely between them.

  'What do we do with this?' he asked. 'It is unwise to keep such a sum in the house. We have the Emperor's twenty thousand livres as it is.'

  'Take it back to Lafitte tomorrow, but place it in our name. It may be we shall still need it. If not, then I will simply return it.'

  Arcadius nodded agreement, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and settled back in his corner as if he meant to sleep. However, after a moment or two, he said softly: 'I should like to know what has become of Mademoiselle Adelaide.'

  'So should I,' Marianne said, feeling slightly ashamed that the dramatic scene with Francis had temporarily driven her elderly cousin from her thoughts. 'But surely the main thing is that she is no longer in the hands of Fanchon Fleur-de-Lis?'

  'We should perhaps have made sure. But something tells me we would be wrong to worry too much about her.'

  There was silence again, unbroken on either side until they reached the rue de Lille.

  It was about eleven o'clock that night and Marianne was in the hands of her chambermaid, Agathe, who was brushing her long, black hair, when Arcadius tapped on the door of her room and asked to speak to her urgently, alone. She sent her woman to bed at once.

  'What is it?' she asked quickly, alarmed by his mysterious behaviour.

  'Adelaide has come back.'

  'She is here? But I heard nothing, no carriage —'

  'I let her in. I was on the point of going out myself, just to walk down to the Seine and back, and saw her coming as I opened the gate. I must confess, I hardly recognized her at first.'

  'Why?' Marianne cried in quick alarm. 'She is not hurt —?'

  Jolival chuckled. 'No, no, nothing of the kind. But you shall see for yourself. She is waiting downstairs. I should add that she is not alone.'

  Marianne paused in the act of darting through the door, clutching the broad pink ribbons that fastened her lace dressing-gown. 'Not alone? Who is with her?'

  'One she refers to as her saviour. I may as well tell you at once — this guardian angel is none other than Bobèche, one of the two clowns I pointed out to you earlier in the boulevard du Temple.'

  'What? Are you joking?'

  'Far from it. Although his appearance tonight is perfectly respectable, I assure you. Would you like to see him?'

  'This is absurd! Why has Adelaide brought him here?'

  'She will tell you herself. I think she is anxious for you to meet him.'

  Marianne had had more than enough excitement for one day, but quite apart from her joy at having her cousin restored to her, she was possessed by a curiosity far stronger than her fatigue. Hastily twisting her hair into a knot and tying it as best she could with a ribbon, she hurried to her wardrobe, pulled out a dress at random and slipped it on in place of her dressing-gown. Returning to the bedroom, she found Arcadius waiting for her with a smile on his lips that instantly infuriated her.

  'You seem to find all this amusing?'

  'I do, I confess. And what is more, I think you will also when you take a look at your cousin. And a great deal of good it will do you, too. This house has been decidedly gloomy of late.'

  In spite of this warning, Marianne started in amazement when she saw Adelaide sitting calmly in a chair in the music room. She had to look twice to be sure that it was really her. A fantastic blonde wig peeped from beneath a hat of the very latest mode and her face was almost unrecognizable under a thick coat of paint. Only the blue eyes, bubbling over with life and happiness, and the commanding nose, were indisputably her own.

  Adelaide no sooner set eyes on her than she sprang up, oblivious of her cousin's stunned expression, and ran to embrace her warmly, transferring a good deal of paint to Marianne's cheeks in the process. Marianne returned her kisses automatically, exclaiming as she did so: 'But Adelaide, where have you been? Surely you knew how dreadfully anxious we would be?'

  'So I should hope!' Mademoiselle d'Asselnat declared happily. 'You shall have all the explanations you wish, but first – ' she turned and held out her hand to her companion ' – first, you must thank my friend Antoine Mandelard, otherwise known as Bobèche. It was he who rescued me from the hole where I was being kept prisoner, who hid me and defended me —'

  'And encouraged you not to return home?' Jolival put in teasingly. 'Have you found your vocation on the boulevard, dear lady?'

  'You speak more truly than you know, Jolival.'

  All this time, Marianne had been gazing curiously at the tall, fair-haired young man who was bowing very correctly to her. She liked his frank, open face, laughing eyes and the suggestion of mischief in his smile. He was dressed in plain, dark clothes that were not without elegance. She extended her hand.

  'I owe you more than I can put into words, monsieur.'

  'No thanks are needed for helping a lady in distress,' he answered gallantly. 'I could do no less.'

  'Such charm!' Adelaide murmured with a sigh. 'And now, my dear, if you are glad to have your old cousin back again, suppose you offer us a bite to eat. I for one am half dead with hunger.'

  'I should have guessed it,' Marianne said, laughing. 'All the servants are in bed but if you will set the table, Adelaide, I will go down to the kitchen and see what may be found.'

  It appeared that the cook was a woman of some forethought and Marianne soon assembled a palatable cold supper. In an amazingly short time the four of them were seated round a table gleaming with silver and crystal.

  In the intervals between disposing of a prodigious quantity of cold chicken and salad and shavings of smoked beef washed down with champagne, Mademoiselle d'Asselnat recounted her adventures. She described how a servant wearing Madame Hamelin's livery had arrived with a request for her to join her cousin at the Creole's house, and how she had no sooner got into the chaise that waited at the door than she was bound and gagged and blindfolded with a scarf, then transported across Paris to some unknown destination. When she recovered the use of her senses, she was in a small chamber divided by a ramshackle wooden partition from what seemed to be a large cellar. The only light came from a shaft set too high in the wall to be reached even by standing on the heap of coal which, with a few armfuls of straw, formed the chief furnishing of her prison.

  'Through the gaps in the boards,' Adelaide continued, helping herself liberally to her favourite Brie, 'I was able to obtain a glimpse of the rest of the cellar. It was piled with barrels and jars of all descriptions, bottles, full and empty, and everything else you would expect to find in a wine cellar. There was also a strong smell of onions, from the strings which were hanging from the ceiling, and from the noise of footsteps moving about my head and the clamour of intoxicated voices, I concluded that the cellar must belong to some kind of tavern.'

  Arcadius grinned. 'I hope they didn't let you die o
f thirst amid such plenty?'

  'Water!' Adelaide's voice throbbed with indignation. That was all they gave me, and some bread that was very nearly uneatable! Goodness, this Brie is delicious, I shall have some more.'

  'But you must have seen someone in this dungeon?' Marianne said.

  'Oh yes indeed! I saw a frightful old woman decked out like a queen whom they called Fanchon. She gave me to understand that my fate depended on you and on a certain sum of money which you must pay. The interview was far from friendly. I was not going to have that creature teaching me lessons about patriotism. Daring to vilify the Emperor and crack up that windbag who calls himself Louis XVIII! I promise you, she will not soon forget the way I boxed her ears for her. I would have killed her if they hadn't got her away!'

  Jolival laughed. 'I dare say that did nothing to encourage them to improve your diet, my poor Adelaide, but I congratulate you with all my heart. Let me kiss this dainty but determined hand.'

  'So much for your prison,' Marianne said. 'But how did you escape?'

  'As to that, you had better ask my friend Bobèche. He will tell you the rest.'

  'Oh, it was nothing really,' the young man said with a deprecating smile. The Epi-Scié is next door to us and I go there now and then for a drink with my friend Galimafré. They have a nice little wine from Suresnes which is not bad at all. I should add that we go to keep our eyes and ears open too, because we could not help but notice that the place had some remarkably strange customers. We soon began to find it very interesting. Myself, I take care not to be seen there too often but Galimafré spends hours at a time just sitting. No one takes any notice of him because he looks such a simpleton, but underneath he is by no means a fool. For all his drooping eyelids and sleepy air Galimafré is very wide awake, and, like myself, wholly at the Emperor's service.'

  As he uttered the Emperor's name, Bobèche rose to his feet and raised his glass, a gesture which earned him a warm smile from Marianne. She liked this mountebank; without his make-up and his stage costume he had a kind of natural courtesy which appealed to her, besides which she was far from indifferent to his discreetly admiring gaze. It pleased her to be admired by a man who so straightforwardly declared his devotion to Napoleon. It occurred to her that Adelaide was listening to the young man with an expression of such ardent enthusiasm that she had actually forgotten to eat. Could it be that she felt something more than gratitude towards him? But Bobèche was speaking again.

  The other night, Galimafré noticed them taking a loaf of bread down to the cellar where it had no business to be, unless it was intended for someone down there. Late that same night we did a little exploring in the lane, more of a tunnel really, which runs between our Pygmy Théâtre and the tavern. We already knew that there was a fanlight hidden behind a heap of rubbish which looked down into the cellar of the Epi-Scié and we were there in time to witness an angry scene between Mademoiselle and Fanchon Fleur-de-Lis which told us a good deal, then —'

  'Then the following night,' Adelaide finished triumphantly, 'they came back with tools and a knotted rope to open the window and help me out of the cellar. I would never have believed I could do it.'

  'But why didn't you come straight here?' Marianne asked.

  'Bobèche thought it wiser not. Besides, I could never have crossed Paris all covered with coal as I was. And – well, I had begun to find the Epi-Scié and its environs very interesting. I may as well tell you, Marianne, that I am going back there with Bobèche. We have some business to attend to.'

  Marianne frowned, and then shrugged lightly. 'This is absurd. What business can you have there? I am sure these gentlemen do not want you.'

  It was Bobèche who answered with a smile for the elderly spinster.

  'That is where you are wrong, mademoiselle. Your cousin has kindly agreed to keep the gate for us.'

  'Keep the gate?' Marianne said in astonishment.

  'Most certainly,' Mademoiselle Adelaide's voice held the hint of a challenge. 'And I don't need you to tell me that such an occupation is quite unsuited to a woman of my condition. I have recently learned otherwise.'

  Marianne blushed. It ill became her to reproach her cousin when she herself had taken to the boards. As theatres went, the Pygmy was no more to be despised than the elegant Feydeau. But the knowledge that Adelaide wanted to go away again filled her with unexpected sadness. Marianne met Arcadius's eyes across the table and he smiled and winked, then, reaching for the bottle, he refilled Adelaide's glass with more champagne.

  'If that is your vocation, you would be wrong to fight against it. But do you really intend to keep the gate only – or will you venture to tread the boards?'

  'Not yet, at all events,' she told him with a laugh. 'And, as I said, I shall be in no danger, whereas by remaining here I may run the risk of being kidnapped again and even putting you all in peril. That I could not endure! Besides, I am enjoying myself. I want to see if the Ambassador Bathurst's papers really will turn up at the Epi-Scié.'

  'Papers? What papers are you talking about?' Marianne burst out at last. 'All day I have heard of nothing but papers. I don't understand it.'

  Arcadius laid his hand gently over hers. 'I think I understand. Our business has become confused with another and much more important matter in which your – the Englishman, that is, was also involved. Hence the unexpected arrival of your friend the colossal grenadier, and possibly also the appearance on the scene of Fauche-Borel. Is that right?'

  'Quite right,' Bobèche agreed. 'Forgive me if I do not explain further but it seems probable that certain papers stolen recently from an English ambassador may turn up at the Epi-Scié, which is something of a nest of foreign agents. The police never set foot there, or not officially. That is why there has been so much excitement in that neighbourhood of late and why one of those agents, believing himself recognized, had the idea of concealing himself among the waxworks.'

  'By the way,' Arcadius said, 'was he captured?'

  Bobèche nodded and became apparently absorbed in contemplation of the champagne in his glass, thereby indicating his wish to change the subject. Marianne was now looking at him in amazement coupled with no little admiration. It seemed strange to hear such grave words coming from a mouth so clearly fashioned for laughter. Who was this clown and for whom was he really working? He had proclaimed his devotion to the Emperor but he did not seem to be one of Fouché's men. Could he be a member of that secret band, answerable to the Emperor alone, as they had been to the last kings of France, and who, it was said, formed a kind of special police force alongside the official one? His profession must surely give him many opportunities for observing without himself coming under suspicion and he was probably also an adept at disguise. Tonight, in his well-cut dark-green coat and faultlessly-tied cravat, his thick golden hair carefully brushed, he would not have seemed out of place in any drawing-room, and no one would have suspected the presence of the clown.

  Marianne's puzzled gaze went from the young man to her cousin who was leaning back in her chair nibbling a crystallized citron without taking her eyes from her new friend. She was literally drinking in his words and there was a light in her blue eyes that Marianne had not seen before. Her cheeks were flushed a youthful pink. For all her forty years, her absurd wig, her paint and her long nose, Adelaide was transformed. She looked almost young and very nearly beautiful.

  It came to Marianne suddenly, with a flash of amazement. 'She is in love!' The thought saddened more than it amused her, for she was afraid that poor Adelaide would give her heart in vain. Bobèche had been protective, even chivalrous, and he seemed to have a genuine admiration for Adelaide's courage, intelligence and acting abilities, but between the wildest admiration and the most unexacting love there was such a vast distance! Because of this, Marianne was moved to protest when Adelaide stood up and shook out her dress with a satisfied sigh, then said: 'There! Now you know everything, and I think it is time that we were returning to the theatre. We only came, you know, to let you know
that I was safe. That is done, and I shall go away again.'

  'This is ridiculous,' Marianne said unhappily. 'You will still be in danger and I shall be half-dead with worry.'

  'Then you will be foolish, mademoiselle,' Bobèche said quietly. 'I promise you that I will care for Mademoiselle Adelaide as if she were my own sister. She is in no danger while she is with Galimafré and me, I can assure you, and we are very happy that she should have chosen to honour us with her friendship.'

  'Furthermore,' put in Mademoiselle d'Asselnat, who had listened to this little speech with obvious gratification, 'nothing on earth would prevent me from going back. For the first time in my life, I feel truly alive.'

  Marianne was silent, her objections conquered. Truly alive? A woman who had been thrown into prison for daring to protest against Napoleon's divorce, had lived in hiding in the attics of the abandoned Hôtel d'Asselnat with only a portrait for company, and had tried one night to set fire to that same house because she believed it to have fallen into unworthy hands? What had she meant by living until then? It was with feelings of profound sadness that she allowed Adelaide to kiss her good-bye.

  Guessing her thoughts, Arcadius slipped his arm through hers and whispered: 'Let her go, Marianne. She is having such fun playing at secret agents, and indeed I wonder if she has not a talent for it. Besides, it is better for both of you that she should not come back here. The lad is right: no one, not even Fanchon, will ever think to look for her at the Pygmy Théâtre.'

  'You are right, of course,' Marianne said with a sigh. 'But I shall miss her dreadfully.'

  She had counted so heavily on Adelaide for the hard days ahead, to help her when the child came and with her advice when the time came to join the cardinal – supposing that Jason did not come. A small voice whispered: 'If she knew the truth, she would stay with you.' But Marianne could not tell her the truth because of her promise to her godfather. And even if Adelaide knew how much Marianne needed her, would she have the heart to say good-bye to the dream she had made for herself, her chance of sharing briefly in the life of an attractive young man for whom she felt something more than kindness? No, Adelaide must be allowed to follow the absurd road she had chosen for herself. There was nothing Marianne could do about it.