In the midst of all this, a lady in a gown of mauve taffetas, with a black pelisse and a rice-straw hat, was pacing up and down in an agitated manner. She was middle-aged, and her noble features and wide, thoughtful brow suggested a temper of mingled gentleness and austerity. It was a face that Marianne knew already from having seen it often in the house of Talleyrand: the Canoness de Chastenay, an aristocratic and intellectual lady who, it was said, had once entertained a certain partiality for the young General Bonaparte.
At Marianne's entry, she stopped her feverish pacing and regarded the newcomer in some surprise before uttering a joyful cry and hurrying to meet her with hands outstretched.
'Dear Muse of Song – oh, forgive me, dear Princess, I should say, what a joy and comfort to find you here!'
It was Marianne's turn to be surprised. How could Madame de Chastenay have known of the change that had occurred in her station. The Canoness gave a nervous little laugh and drew the younger woman over to a sofa guarded by a pair of forbidding bronze victories.
'But no one in Paris talks of anything else but your romantic marriage! That and the unfortunate Duke of Otranto's fall from grace are almost the only topics of conversation. Did you know that he is not to be governor of Rome after all? It seems the Emperor is perfectly furious with him on account of his making a bonfire of all the secret files and papers belonging to his ministry. He has been exiled, really exiled! It scarcely seems possible! But – where was I?'
'You were saying, madame, that people are talking about my marriage,' Marianne murmured, stunned by this flow of words.
'Ah, yes. Oh, it is quite extraordinary! You know, my dear, you are a real little slyboots! Hiding one of the greatest names in France like that! So romantic! Although, you must know, I was never really taken in. I guessed long ago that you were truly of noble birth and when we heard the truth —'
'But from whom did you hear it?' Marianne asked quietly.
The Canoness paused for a moment and appeared to reflect, then she was off again, more volubly than ever.
'How was it, now? Ah, yes – the Grand Duchess of Tuscany wrote to the Emperor about it as though it were something altogether remarkable! And so deeply moving! The beautiful young singer consenting to marry an unfortunate so dreadfully deformed that he could never bear to show himself in public! And, to crown it all, the great artiste then reveals that she is of noble race! My dear, I should think your story must be all over Europe by now.'
'But – the Emperor? What did the Emperor say?' Marianne persisted, feeling both bewildered and alarmed to discover so much talk about a marriage which she had believed secret. The court of Tuscany must be a hive of gossip indeed for the ripples of gossip started there to have spread so far and so fast.
'Goodness, I hardly know,' the Canoness answered. 'All I know is that his Majesty mentioned it to Monsieur de Talleyrand and roasted the poor Prince most unkindly for making the Marquis d'Asselnat's own daughter reader to the erstwhile Madame Grand.'
That was very like Napoleon. He must have been furiously angry at the marriage and had chosen to take out his wrath on Talleyrand. By way of changing the subject, Marianne asked: 'But what brings you here, madame, at this late hour?'
Instantly, Madame de Chastenay's sophisticated playfulness left her and she began to look as agitated as she had when Marianne had first entered.
'Oh, don't speak of it! I am still quite distracted! There I was in the Beauvaisis, with friends who have such an enchanting estate there and who – well, this very morning along comes a great lout of a gendarme to say that the Duke of Rovigo commands my presence instantly. And the worst of it is that I have not the least idea why, or what I could have done! I left my poor friends in the utmost anxiety and passed a terrible journey wondering all the time why I had been, not to put too fine a point on it, arrested. I was so wretched that I went first to call on Councillor Real to ask him what he thought and he urged me to come here without delay. Any delay, he said, could have the most serious consequences! Oh, my dear, I am in such a state – and I dare swear that you are just the same—'
No, not quite the same. Marianne forced herself to maintain an icy calm. She had her own reasons for thinking that the order concerning her came from a higher source, although she would never have believed that Napoleon would go so far as to have her arrested for daring to marry without his consent. However, there was no time to disclose her own fears to her companion. The majestic usher reappeared to inform Madame de Chastenay that the minister was ready to receive her.
'Oh God!' the Canoness exclaimed. 'What will become of me? Say a little prayer for me, my dear Princess.'
The mauve taffeta dress vanished into the Minister's office, leaving Marianne alone. The room was extremely warm, for the windows were hermetically sealed. For coolness's sake, Marianne unfastened the full dust-coat which she had been wearing over her light gown of green silk, and untied the satin ribbons of her hat. She felt tired, sticky and dirty, certainly in no condition to confront a Minister of Police, and she would have given anything for a bath. But when would the opportunity to bathe be hers again? Would she even be allowed to go home? What was she to be accused of? It was like the Emperor to deal harshly with those against whom he had reason for anger, and remembering the stormy scenes which had already taken place between them, Marianne could not help but feel anxious.
The door opened again.
'If madame will follow me.'
The usher had reappeared and was holding open the door of a large, well-appointed office that was a far cry from Fouché's. Within, seated at a mahogany table decked with roses placed directly underneath a huge, full-length portrait of the Emperor, a good-looking man with dark hair and velvety eyes was working, or pretending to work, on a large file. His air of lofty complacency and invincible self-satisfaction was of the kind that always grated on Marianne, and the fact that he had not so much as looked up at her entrance only increased her irritation. If this were a piece of calculated rudeness, it hardly augured well for her; all the same, Marianne decided it was time to remind him of the respect due, if not to her person, at least to her rank and the name she bore. Besides, she was past caring.
Advancing coolly into the big room, she walked across and seated herself in a chair facing the desk. She spoke very smoothly.
'Pray, do not disturb yourself on my account, but when you can spare a moment, sir, perhaps you will be good enough to inform me to what I owe the honour of this summons?'
Savary let fall his pen with a start of surprise which, genuine or not, at least did credit to his histrionic talents.
'Great heavens! My dear Princess! I had not realized —'
'So it would seem.'
He leaped up from his chair and coming round the desk took the hand which she had not held out to him and carried it devoutly to his lips.
'Allow me to express my sincerest apologies – and also my delight that you have returned to Paris at last. You cannot imagine how eagerly you have been awaited.'
'I think I can imagine it very well,' Marianne said wryly. 'If, that is, I am to judge by the manner in which your men pounced on my coach at the Fontainebleau guard post. But now, let us have no more beating about the bush, if you please. I acquit you of the social formalities. I have travelled a long way and I am very tired, so tell me quickly where I am to be imprisoned and, incidentally, why.'
Savary's eyes widened and this time Marianne could have sworn that his surprise was not assumed.
'Imprisoned? You? But, my dear Princess, why should you be? It really is most strange, no one this evening seems able to talk of anything else. Only a moment ago, Madame de Chastenay —'
'—was also ready to swear that you were going to send her there. Good heavens, what can you expect, if you will have people arrested?'
'But neither of you have been arrested. I merely indicated to my people that when you returned to Paris I should very much like to see you, and the same with the Canoness de Chastenay. You see, when
my predecessor left this house he made what I can only call a clean sweep of all the files and documents. The result is that I know no one.'
'A clean sweep?' Marianne said, beginning to be amused. 'You mean that he…'
'Everything! He burnt everything!' Savary said pathetically. 'In my innocence, I trusted him. He offered to remain here for a few days, to put all in order, as he said, and for three days he shut himself up here putting all his secret files, all the dossiers compiled by his agents, all his correspondence, even the Emperor's letters, into the fire! Indeed, it was this which made his Majesty so angry.
Monsieur Fouché is now exiled to Aix and he had to move quickly to escape the Emperor's righteous anger, while I am left trying to rebuild the machine which he has smashed. That is why I am asking people to come and see me. I am making contact with all who have been thought to have some dealings with this house in the past.'
A deep flush, part anger and part shame, mounted to Marianne's cheeks. She understood now. Faced with an almost impossible task, this man was ready to do anything to prove to his master that his worth was at least as great as that of Fouché the Fox. If he thought that she was going to fall into the clutches of any policeman again, even a minister, he was mistaken. However, in order to make her own position perfectly clear, she asked quietly: 'You are quite certain that the – the invitation which was pressed on me at the Fontainebleau guard post has nothing to do with the Emperor?'
'Nothing in the world, my dear princess! Only my own desire to make the acquaintance of someone who has been the talk of Paris for fifteen days past led me to give orders which, I see now, have been greatly misconstrued, for which I hope you will forgive me.'
He had eased his chair very close to Marianne's and now took her hand, imprisoning it between his own. At the same time his velvet eyes took on a languorous heaviness that made Marianne wary. She knew that Savary was accounted successful where women were concerned, and there was nothing to be gained by raising false hopes. Gently withdrawing her hand, she asked:
'So everyone is talking about me?'
'Everyone! You are the heroine of the hour.'
'I am honoured indeed. Does everyone include the Emperor?'
Savary flung up his hands in horror. 'Oh, madame! His Majesty stands alone!'
'Very well,' Marianne said sharply. 'So the Emperor has said nothing to you concerning me?'
'No, I promise you! What else did you expect? I do not believe there is at present any woman in the world who could engage his Majesty's attention. The Emperor is deeply in love with his young bride and devotes all his time to her. There never was a more devoted couple. Indeed —'
Marianne got up quickly, unable to listen to any more. It seemed to her the interview had lasted long enough. If this nincompoop had brought her here merely to listen to him describing the Emperor's wedded bliss, he was even more of a fool than she had thought. Was he ignorant of the talk which had linked her name with Napoleon's? Fouché would never have been guilty of such clumsiness, or not without good reason.
'With your permission, sir, I leave you. I am, as I have already told you, very tired.'
'Yes, yes, by all means-very natural, I am sure. I will see you to your coach. My dear Princess, you cannot conceive how delighted…' His voice wandered on, losing itself in compliments which only served to increase Marianne's irritation. She could see only one reason for them: Napoleon no longer cared for her, for if he had Savary would not have permitted himself such liberties. She had been prepared for his anger, had been prepared for some shattering act of revenge, even to be thrown in prison, persecuted, but nothing of the kind had happened. He had merely listened, with one ear no doubt, to the gossip about her, and she had been brought here solely to indulge the curiosity of a raw new minister, eager to make contacts. Her heart swelled with anger and disappointment, there was a furious roaring in her ears through which she was vaguely conscious of Savary saying that his wife was at home on Mondays and would be most happy to entertain the Princess Sant'Anna to dinner one of these days. The last straw!
'I hope you have invited Madame de Chastenay also?' she said with irony as he stood waiting to hand her into her coach. The minister's eyes met hers with an expression of innocent surprise.
'But of course. Why should you ask?'
'Oh, curiosity merely. It is my turn, wouldn't you agree? Good evening to you, Duke. I too have been delighted to meet you.'
The coach moved off and Marianne sank back among the cushions, torn between the impulse to scream with rage, to burst into tears and shout with laughter. Was there ever anything so absurd? Tragedy that ended in farce! She had imagined herself, like a heroine of romance, going to meet a tragic fate, and instead she had received an invitation to dine!
'I am so glad to see you again, madame,' said Agathe at her side. 'I was frightened when that man brought us here.'
Marianne glanced at her maid and saw that the girl's cheeks were wet with tears and her eyes swollen.
'And you thought I should come out under an armed guard, in chains, on my way to Vincennes? No, my poor Agathe, I am not so important. I was sent for merely for the sake of seeing what I looked like. We must resign ourselves, my child, we are no longer the Emperor's beloved mistress! We are only a Princess.'
And Marianne promptly demonstrated her resignation by bursting into tears and thus completing poor Agathe's bewilderment. She was still crying when the coach entered the forecourt of the Hôtel d'Asselnat but her tears ceased abruptly at the sight that met her eyes. The old house was lit up from the basement to the handsome mansard roof.
Candlelight blazed in every window, most of which were open, revealing rooms filled with flowers and an elegantly dressed assembly moving about to the strains of violins. Marianne stared in amazement, recognizing the notes of a piece of ballet music by Mozart. It even occurred to her to wonder if she had not mistaken the house, but no, it was her own house, her own house with a party going on inside, and those were her servants lining the steps in splendid livery with branches of candles in their hands.
Every bit as flabbergasted as his mistress, Gracchus had brought the horses to a standstill in the middle of the courtyard and was staring with bulging eyes, incapable of bringing the coach up to the steps, or even of dismounting from the box. However, the clatter of hooves and iron-shod wheels on the cobbles must have penetrated through the music. From somewhere in the house, there came a shout.
'Here she is!'
In a moment, the entrance was packed with ladies in ball gowns and men in evening dress and, in their midst, the smiling, pointed face, goatee beard and bright black eyes of Arcadius de Jolival himself. But it was not he who came forward to the coach. Instead, a very tall man, dressed with great elegance, detached himself from the group and came down the steps, a man with a slight limp who leaned on a gold-knobbed stick. The haughty features and the cold blue eyes were illumined by a smile full of warmth and Marianne watched stupefied as Monsieur de Talleyrand put aside the footmen with a gesture and, advancing to the coach, himself flung wide the door and held out his gloved hand to her, saying in a loud voice as he did so: 'Welcome to the home of your ancestors, Marianne d'Asselnat de Villeneuve, and welcome also among your friends and your peers! You have returned from a journey longer than you know, but all of us are assembled here tonight to tell you of our sincere rejoicing.'
Marianne gazed at the brilliant crowd before her. Her face had gone suddenly very pale and her eyes dilated. She saw Fortunée Hamelin, laughing and crying at once. She saw, too, Dorothée de Périgord, in white, and Madame de Chastenay in her mauve taffetas, waving to her. There were other faces, as well, which had been scarcely known to her until now but which she knew belonged to the greatest names of France: Choiseul-Gouffier, Jaucourt, La Marck, Laval, Montmorency, La Tour du Pin, Baufremont, Coigny, all those whom she had met in the rue de Varennes when she was merely a humble companion to the Princess Benevento. It came to her in a flash that Talleyrand had brought them her
e tonight, not only to welcome her home, but also to restore her at last to the position which by birth was rightfully hers and which she had lost only through misfortune.
The vision of pale gowns and glittering jewels was strangely blurred. Marianne placed her fingers, which seemed to be trembling suddenly, in the waiting hand. She stepped out of the coach, leaning heavily on that friendly arm.
'And now,' Talleyrand cried, 'make way, friends, make way for her Serene Highness, the Princess Marianne Sant'Anna, and allow me, in all our names, to wish her every happiness in the future.'
With the whole of society looking on and clapping, he kissed Marianne warmly on both cheeks and then bowed over her hand.
'I knew you would come back to us,' he whispered in her ear. 'You remember what I said to you, one stormy day in the Tuileries? You are one of us and that is something you can never alter.'
'Do you think – do you think the Emperor is of the same opinion?'
The Emperor, always the Emperor! In spite of herself, Marianne could not rid her mind of its obsession with the man whom she knew that she still loved. Talleyrand's mouth twisted.
'You may expect a little trouble in that quarter, but come, they are waiting for you. We will talk later.'
Marianne and The Masked Prince Page 35
