We've broken a wheel,' she wailed. 'We can't go on! No, no—' as she saw Marianne preparing to descend. 'Don't get out! It's much too cold. You'll catch your death.'
'I'll catch it either way if we have to stay here very much longer. Are we very far from Kovno?'
'Two or three versts at most. You can see from here where the Wilia runs into the Niemen. The best thing might be—'
She had no time to say what the best thing might be, however, for just then a horseman swept round a bend in the road and bore down on them. He just managed to avoid the kibitka, which was occupying the crown of the road, but was no sooner past than he struck the bank and fell. He was up again almost at once and helping his horse back on its feet. Then, cursing volubly in French, he made his way back to the vehicle.
'Thunder of God! What in hell's going on here? You damned—' He had drawn his pistol and seemed inclined to use it. Barbe cried out quickly before he could take aim.
'It will do you no good to kill us. We've broken a wheel and we've troubles enough of our own!'
Startled at hearing his own language coming from this unrecognizable being that looked as if it were part and parcel of the country around, the man came closer.
'Oh, you're women. I'm sorry, but I could not know that and I came the very devil of a cropper. What's more, I'm in a hurry.'
As he came into the lantern light, Marianne saw to her astonishment that the man was not a soldier but an outrider of the Emperor's household. So shatteringly unexpected was his presence here, in this icy wilderness, that before she could stop herself she had demanded to know his business. Whereupon he introduced himself.
'Amodru, Madame, Outrider to his Majesty the Emperor and King. I am riding to command fresh horses. The Emperor is behind me.'
'What's that? The Emperor, do you say?'
'Will be here at any moment! So forgive me if I desert you. I'll send someone to you from Kovno. And in the meanwhile, I'll give you a hand to get this cart to one side, or else his Majesty will be obliged to stop – though I should hope less violently than I did! Make haste. I'm late already on account of having to fight off a pack of wolves.'
As he spoke, he took hold of the horse's bridle, calling out to Barbe to push as hard as she could. But Barbe did not hear him. At the mention of Napoleon's approach Marianne's first impulse had been to run wildly to hide herself in the open country and Barbe had her hands full to prevent her.
'Please! Don't be a fool! Stay here. He may not even see you. And even if he does, what have you to fear? There is no prison here, no court of law—'
'Give me some help, for God's sake!' the outrider yelled, finding the horse would not obey him.
'What do you expect me to do? Rupture myself lifting the thing? If the Emperor comes, he'll just have to stop, that's all. There'll be soldiers to move the wagon, won't there?'
'I said the Emperor, not the army,' Amodru snapped back angrily. 'His Majesty is obliged to travel on ahead. He must be in Paris as soon as possible. It seems that there's bad trouble there. So are you going to help me – Oh, my God! Here they come!'
Three vehicles had emerged from the clump of trees that marked the bend in the road. They were the Emperor's sleeping coach and two closed carriages, all three white with frozen snow. They were followed by a dozen or so mounted men.
There was no time for Marianne to scramble back into the kibitka and hide. She gave a little moan and clung to Barbe, pressing her face into her shoulder. She was ashamed of the fear which suddenly possessed her, she who had faced so many perils far worse than an Emperor's wrath, even with the full force of the law behind it. Yet what frightened her was not so much Napoleon himself as the ill-luck which dogged her so relentlessly, raising one obstacle after another in her path. It almost seemed as if she were fated never to reach Danzig.
The outrider, meanwhile, was hurrying up to the leading vehicle where a head was already poking out of the window. Marianne heard a well-known voice demanding impatiently: 'Well? What is the matter here? What is this vehicle?'
'It belongs to two women, Majesty. They've broken a wheel and I haven't yet managed to clear the road.'
'Two women? What are two women doing at this hour of night on such a road as this?'
'I don't know, Sire. One of them speaks French with a local accent and the other with no accent at all. I think that she is French.'
'Wretched fugitives like ourselves, I daresay. Someone see what can be done for them. I will wait.'
So saying, Napoleon opened the door and sprang out on to the frozen snow. In spite of her terror, Marianne could not help stealing a glance at him as he wriggled out of the great bearskin that enveloped him and came towards her, walking with some difficulty on account of the thickness of his garments and the huge fur boots he wore. Then he was beside them and Marianne's heart was thudding in her breast as he addressed them pleasantly.
'You have suffered an accident, ladies?'
'Yes, Sire,' Barbe answered him hesitantly. 'We were hoping to reach Kovno before daybreak but then this mishap occurred – and my companion is barely recovered from a grave illness. I am afraid for her in this terrible cold.'
'I see. She must have shelter. May I inquire who you are?'
Barbe was opening her mouth to say something when all of a sudden something gave way inside Marianne. Perhaps it was the will to fight. She was tired of struggling against the whole world, mankind and the elements alike. She was tired and she was ill, and it seemed to her that any prison would be preferable to what she had endured. She thrust Barbe aside and, turning so that he could see her face, sank to her knees.
'It is I, Sire! Only I! Do with me what you will.'
He uttered a muffled exclamation and then, without turning, called out sharply: 'Rustan! A light!'
The mameluke hurried forward, looking like a mountain of furs with a turban perched incongruously on top. He carried a lantern and by its fitful light Napoleon studied her face, sunken with illness, and the tears that welled from her eyes and rolled freezing down her wan cheeks. A light flashed briefly on his own eyes and was as quickly extinguished. Then he was bending over her with so stern a look that she could only moan helplessly: 'Sire – will you never forgive me?'
He did not answer but took the lantern from the mameluke's hand.
'Take her,' he said. 'Put her in the coach. Her companion may travel with Constant. The horse can be unhitched and led but don't waste time on the cart. Push the wretched thing into the ditch and let's be on our way. We could all catch our death standing here.'
Rustan lifted Marianne without a word and set her down inside the coach. There was a man there already and Marianne's lips twitched involuntarily when she saw that it was Caulaincourt. He was staring at her in blank astonishment.
'We two seem fated to meet in unusual circumstances, my lord Duke,' she murmured, but then a violent fit of coughing shook her and she could say no more. At once, the Duke of Vicenza slipped a hot brick under her feet and reached for a travelling case from which he took a bottle of wine and a gilt cup. He poured some and held it to the girl's lips.
'You are ill,' he said sympathetically. 'This is no climate for women—'
He broke off as Napoleon climbed back into the coach and settled himself inside his bearskin once more. He appeared to be in a very bad temper. His movements were brusque and he was frowning heavily, but Marianne was feeling somewhat restored by the wine and she risked saying softly: 'How can I thank you, Sire? Your Majesty—'
'Be quiet.' He cut her off short. 'You'll make yourself cough again. Wait until we get to the inn.'
They reached Kovno in no time and drew up outside a house on the outskirts. It bore evidence of having been badly damaged at some time and only half of it was left standing. The rest of the town offered a similar picture, for Kovno had been largely destroyed in a disastrous fire some ten years before and had not yet recovered. Nor had the arrival of the French on this side of the Niemen improved matters. Except for the ol
d castle, some of the churches and about half the dwelling houses, the whole place was in ruins.
The building in front of which the three carriages had stopped was an inn of a sort, kept by a young Italian, a cook who had come there with the army the previous summer. He seemed to be making a success of it because, although he had received no more than a few minutes' warning from the outrider Amodru, who had already ridden on again, he had worked miracles in the time. When Marianne entered the coffee room on Caulaincourt's arm there was a bright fire burning and she saw a table laid ready with a white cloth, white bread, roast chickens, cheese, preserves and wine and she felt as if she had walked into paradise. The room was warm and bright as a new pin and there was a delicious smell of omelettes in the air.
To Guglielmo Grandi, as he came forward bowing, cap in hand, Napoleon said bluntly: 'Have you a good bedchamber?'
'I have three, Imperial Majesty. Three good bedchambers. Does your Majesty wish to honour my house by staying to rest here?'
'Not me, I've no time. But this lady needs a bed. Have a room made ready. I see you've maidservants there. Have them light a fire and make some supper for her.'
He beckoned curtly to Barbe who had just come in, along with the occupants of the other carriages. These proved to be Duroc, General Mouton, Baron Fain and Constant. The latter, recognizing Marianne, came hurrying towards her, his face alight with joy.
'Princess! Good God! This is a miracle!'
Napoleon checked him sternly.
'That will do, Constant. See to it that the lady has everything she needs. And you,' he added, speaking to Barbe who had been staring at him with big, anxious eyes, 'go with her and help her to bed.'
'Sire!' Marianne begged. 'At least let me speak to you, explain—'
'No. Get to bed. You can scarcely stand. I will come up in a little while and tell you what I have decided.'
With that he turned away, as though she had ceased to exist, and began divesting himself of his great overcoat and peeling off numerous woollen garments that enveloped him like the layers of an onion. That done, he went to the table, sat down and began without further ado to demolish the omelette set piping hot before him.
As was his way, the Emperor did not dawdle over his meal. Only about ten minutes after packing Marianne off upstairs, Napoleon followed her. She had just got into the bed, which was so heaped with mattresses that it looked like a ship on the high seas, and was sipping with cautious enjoyment at the first cup of scalding hot milk she had seen for a long time.
She paused when the Emperor appeared and would have handed the cup to Barbe but he stopped her.
'Finish it,' he said, in his most peremptory tone.
Not daring to disobey him or risk trying a temper she knew to be short, Marianne swallowed it down heroically, then, flushed to the roots of her hair, she handed the empty cup to Barbe who curtsied and withdrew. Marianne waited with unaccustomed humility for what the Emperor might have to say to her. It was not long in coming.
'I had given up hope of finding you again, Madame. Indeed, I can scarcely believe even now that it was really you I found shivering in the snow beside the wreck of that pathetic cart.'
'Sire,' Marianne ventured timidly, 'will your Majesty permit me to tell you now—'
'Tell me nothing. I've no time for your story, or your thanks. My coming to your assistance was a matter of common humanity. Thank God for it.'
'Then – may I ask what your Majesty means to do with me?'
"What do you expect me to do with you?'
'I don't know, only – since your Majesty went to the trouble of having me sought for – and even of putting a price on my head—'
Napoleon laughed shortly. 'A price on your head? Don't exaggerate. If I did offer to pay for news of your whereabouts it was not in order that I might have the pleasure of shooting you, nor did I expect you to imagine anything of the kind! I am not, let me tell you, either a tyrant or a madman, nor is my memory so short. I have not forgotten what service you have rendered, or that it was for my sake alone that you thrust yourself into this hornet's nest of a country.'
'But I helped your prisoner to escape—'
'Allow me to finish. I have not forgotten that you once loved me and that, when your heart is involved, you are capable of behaving with the utmost folly, like this escapade of yours in rescuing that contumacious cardinal. And finally, I have not forgotten that I have loved you and that you will never be indifferent to me.'
'Sire—'
'Be quiet. I told you I was in haste. If I sought for you, it was because I hoped to save you first of all from yourself, by preventing you from running after your American's coat-tails, and then from the unbelievable perils of that country – perils which I have been able to measure fully since your disappearance and in comparison with which you seem to me very frail. Has it never occurred to you that I might have been afraid – God, how afraid, that you had perished in the fire? No, I'm very sure you did not give a thought to it!'
'How could I have guessed that? I thought—'
'It was not for you to think. Your duty was to obey. Of course I should have been angry with you – but I have been angry before and you have taken no harm, I think? Then I should have sent you back to your own house in France as soon and as expeditiously as possible.'
Moved to tears by this, Marianne murmured huskily: 'Do you mean, Sire, that – that you are not going to punish me for my disobedience?'
'By no means. But the very fact that you are here, and in this condition, is the best possible proof that you have not betrayed the promise you made me, by which I mean that you did not take the road to St Petersburg, easy as that would have been for you. Because of that, I shall inflict no worse penalty on you than I have done.'
'And – that is?'
'Your house in Paris is yours no more. Just as you have long ceased to be Mademoiselle d'Asselnat de Villeneuve. Your family's mansion shall belong henceforth, as of right, to your cousin, Mademoiselle Adelaide d'Asselnat.'
There was a lump in Marianne's throat and she lowered her eyes so that he should not see the sudden pain in them.
'Does that mean – that Paris is closed to me? That I must live in exile?'
'That's a funny word for an émigrée brought up in England. But don't imagine I'm sending you back to Selton Hall. No, you are not exiled, only you may no longer make your home in Paris. You will not be forbidden to visit it, but you will live henceforth where you belong.'
'And where is that?'
'Don't play the simpleton with me. You are Princess Sant'Anna, Madame, and you will live with your husband and your son. No other home within the Empire is permitted to you.'
'Sire!'
'No argument. What I have said is no more than you have already promised. Go back to Prince Corrado. He is worthy of your love, even if – the colour of his skin is not what might be looked for in such a man.'
"The – colour of his skin? Then your Majesty knows—'
'Yes, madame, I know. In the hope of sparing you my displeasure at the news of a divorce, Prince Sant'Anna has confided his secret to me, trusting to my honour. I had his letter in Moscow. His hope in writing to me was to make me understand you better and forgive you for blindly following your heart to America. I know now what manner of man you have married.'
He moved slowly to the bed and laid his hand on her shoulder as she sat listening with bent head, overwhelmed by feelings she could not control.
'Try to love him, Marianne. No man could deserve it more. If you want me to forgive you wholly and completely, be a good wife to him – and bring him back with you to my court. A man of his quality should not live apart from the world. Tell him that. And tell him also that after the welcome he will receive from me, no one will dare to look askance at him.'
The tears were streaming down Marianne's cheeks now, but they were blessed tears of relief and gladness. Turning her head quickly, she pressed her moist lips to the pale hand that gripped her shoulder, but she
could not utter a single word. They remained thus for a moment, then Napoleon gently withdrew his hand and walked to the half-open door.
'Constant!' he called. "You have it ready?'
The Emperor's valet appeared almost at once and placed a folder and some loose papers in Marianne's hands.
The Emperor explained.
'Here is a passport, a requisition order for a vehicle, a permit to obtain post horses and, finally, money. Go to sleep now. Rest here for a few days and then go on to France by easy stages. When you leave here, take a sledge if you can. It's what I'm going to do.'
'You are going now, Sire?' Marianne asked timidly.
'Yes. I must get back as soon as possible. I've had word that in my absence a crazy fool named Malet, by declaring that I was dead, has come within an ace of succeeding in a coup d'etat, thanks to the stupidity and carelessness of those I left in charge in Paris. I'm off again almost at once.' He turned to Constant, who was standing on one side, awaiting orders. 'Has it been decided yet which route we are to take? Königsberg or Warsaw?'
The Duke of Vicenza has just despatched a man to Gumbinnen to see what the road is like to Königsberg, since that is the most direct.'
'Good. Let's go. We may be able to make a detour if the going is bad. It might be better to avoid going through Prussia. Farewell, Madame. I hope that we may meet again in less tragic circumstances.'
For the first time for a long while, Marianne found herself able to smile.
'Farewell, Sire. If God answers my prayers for you, your journey will be a safe one. But before you go, Sire, tell me – about the army. Is it as terrible as I have heard?'
The Emperor's tired, handsome face tautened suddenly, as though at a blow. The hard eyes filled with a grief such as Marianne could never have suspected him of feeling.
'It is worse,' he said heavily. 'My poor children – they have slaughtered them, and the fault is mine! I should never have stayed so long in Moscow. I was deceived by that damned sunshine – and now I must leave them, leave them just when they still need me so badly.'
Marianne thought that he was going to weep but Constant came softly to his master and deferentially touched his arm.
[Marianne 6] - Marianne and the Crown of Fire Page 31