‘Did you see Napoleon? What did you think of him?’ Anne asked, checking Quassy from snatching at some tender leaves on a low branch over the path.
‘Well, I was lucky, because naturally everyone wanted to be appointed to the duty, but Papa being who he was, he was able to get me on the roster to attend the Emperor himself. So I was actually in the room some of the time. I must say, our Emperor beat the Frenchman to flinders!’ Sergei exclaimed with evident satisfaction. ‘He’s taller and handsomer and much more like a ruler in every way. But there’s something impressive about Napoleon all the same,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know what it is.’
‘You sound surprised,’ Anne said.
‘Well, he’s so short, to begin with – our Emperor towers over him – and he’s got a short neck, and a pasty face, and thin, dark hair. But his eyes are extraordinary – blue, though not such a bright blue as our Emperor’s, more a sort of grey-blue – but so bright and piercing, you have to look away from them. They make you feel very strange when they fix on you. He looked at me once, when he was asking for some more paper to be brought, and it made my head swim. I didn’t like him,’ he confessed, ‘but there’s something about him you can’t ignore.’
‘What was his manner like, to the Emperor?’
‘Oh, he was very polite – conciliatory, even. He called him “brother” – I don’t think the Tsar liked that at first, but after a while, he seemed to take to Napoleon more and more, as though he were casting a spell on him. They sat down after dinner and talked into the early hours, night after night, and from what I could hear, they seemed to be carving up the world between them – as if no one else had any say in it! Papa said they both got carried away. He says that Napoleon is quite mad, and that he fascinated our Emperor, but that their plans were grandiose, like children with no idea of how things really are. He says that it will destroy Napoleon in the end – but not until thousands have paid the price of his madness.’
Anne could hear the Count saying the words, and for a moment, Sergei was him, riding beside her and explaining the world to her, as he had done so often before.
‘I’ve heard some of the terms of the treaty, of course,’ Anne said thoughtfully. ‘France to help Russia against the Turks, for instance, in return for recognising the French in the Adriatic. But it doesn’t seem as though we came out of it very well. There’s Poland, for instance.’
‘Yes, the new Grand Duchy of Warsaw ratified,’ Sergei said, without apparently noticing that Anne had referred to Russia as her country, ‘and Moldavia and Wallachia handed back. And though Napoleon encouraged the Emperor to take Finland from the Swedes, he didn’t offer any help, and he’s claimed the right to keep garrisons in the Baltic ports. I can’t help feeling’, he concluded uneasily, ‘that all the treaty has done is to make Napoleon stronger. Perhaps we ought to have gone on fighting after all. And yet, there seems no chance we would have beaten him.’
‘The time hasn’t yet come when he can be beaten,’ Anne said, remembering the Count’s words.
Sergei looked at her strangely. ‘Sometimes you sound so like Papa,’ he said. ‘I must say, it’s wonderful talking to you, Anna Petrovna. You have such a quick grasp of things. The girls I am used to talking to can think of nothing but French gowns and dancing! In Kiev we had two balls a week during the season, and how bored I got with the giggling, feather-headed creatures I had to dance with! But of course, they are just girls – you are a woman, and an educated woman at that. No wonder Papa–’ He broke off abruptly.
‘No wonder what?’ Anne asked, intrigued.
‘Nothing,’ Sergei said, blushing a little. ‘Only Papa thinks a great deal of you, I know. He often talks about you – and I begin to see why.’
This was growing too close for comfort. Anne changed the subject. ‘So how did you occupy your time at Tilsit, when you weren’t on duty with the Emperor? Was there lots to do?’
He was successfully distracted. ‘Lord, no!’ he said with a disdainful curl of the lip. ‘Tilsit is the most beastly little town, shabby and downtrodden, and nothing decent to be had, not so much as a pair of gloves! There were a couple of banquets, but the food was dismal – everything tasted of river water, you know how it is in these provincial holes! And of course, the place was crawling with French.’
‘You didn’t like them?’ Anne hazarded.
‘Sneaking, air-blowing braggarts,’ Sergei said with unexpected passion. ‘Strutting about the town as if they owned the world, and not one of them from what we would call a decent family. But in the French army, anyone can become an officer, so what can you expect? We of the Guard refused to mix with them; and we didn’t like it above half when Grand Duke Constantine got friendly with their General Murat, and gave him a pair of Cossack breeches. Seeing that frog-eating blowhard swaggering about in them was enough to make one sick! He looked ridiculous, but he didn’t seem to know it.’
‘Perhaps the Grand Duke knew he would. Perhaps he did it as a joke,’ Anne said.
The notion seemed to appeal to Sergei, and he smiled. ‘Perhaps. Well, the French at least had the decency to send us their one remaining gentleman as Ambassador to the Court of St Petersburg. Have you seen anything of him?’
‘Armand de Caulaincourt? Yes, in Petersburg last winter. The Emperor has given him the Volkonsky Palace, practically next door to us, and we were invited to several balls and receptions there. Your father knew him in Paris, of course, and I saw him there once, at an embassy ball. He seems a very agreeable, intelligent man, and gets on well with everyone at Court, from what one hears.’
‘And lives like a prince, with fifty indoor servants,’ Sergei said with a grin. ‘They say his cook, Tardif, is the best in the world. Have you experienced his skills yet?’
‘Oh yes, at the banquet before his first ball. The food was certainly delicious, though Kerim tells me that there is nothing that comes out of the Volkonsky kitchen that he could not do just as well, or better! But de Caulaincourt certainly likes to entertain, and he will be a great asset to Petersburg society. I wish the French may do as well in Paris, with our Ambassador.’
‘What, Rumiantsev? Oh, he’s a gentleman of the old school, but no great gourmet,’ Sergei said carelessly. ‘You know that the Emperor wanted Papa to go?’
‘What, as Ambassador?’ Anne said in astonishment. ‘I did not realise – I had not thought he stood so very high, though to be sure–’
‘Oh yes, the Emperor thinks the world of him, and he said that as Papa had spent so much time in Paris, and knew everyone, he was perfectly suited for the position. But Papa refused it. He suggested Rumiantsev instead, and offered his services in an advisory capacity.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘I should not, myself, like to refuse the Emperor anything, but Papa is as brave as a lion.’
‘Why did he refuse? Did he happen to mention to you?’ Sergei frowned. ‘I’m not absolutely sure. Papa jokes, you know, and sometimes one cannot precisely pin down what he does mean. But he told me that Rumiantsev was the best man for the job, because he really believes in the alliance with the French. He thinks that the French are sure to help us secure the Turkish lands we need to complete the old Byzantine Empire; and that what happens in the rest of Europe doesn’t matter, as long as Napoleon leaves our western border alone.’
‘By which we must infer that your father does not think so.’
‘Papa thinks Napoleon is the enemy of civilisation, and that he must be defeated sooner or later. He thinks what happens in Europe does matter, and that we should resist it; and that the treaty solves nothing, only pushes the problem under the carpet.’