They arrived at the Palace of St. Cloud on January 7th. Everything there was proceeding as smoothly as usual in this new year of 1809, and discreet enquiries soon informed them that both Talleyrand and Fouche were still at liberty. After reporting to the Emperor, Roger went to his wife's apartment.
Lisala was lying on a day-bed, reading. Throwing her book aside, she jumped to her feet and cried, 'So there you are! I thought the Emperor might have left you in Spain for good. I am delighted to see you.'
Roger had been absent for some six weeks, but during that time his sentiments towards Lisala had not changed in the least. He had no desire at all to resume relations with her, and was surprised that she should apparently wish him to; so he said quietly:
'It is polite of you, Madame, to welcome me back; but I have no intention of again succumbing to your blandishments.'
She laughed. 'You poor fool. Months ago I accepted the fact that we no longer had any use for one another physically. But you are still my husband, and I have been hoping that you would return to fulfil your obligations. The money I brought from Portugal ran out some time ago; and, while the war continues, it is impossible for me to secure more from that source. It is a husband's duty to support his wife, and I need money.'
Turning, she opened the drawer of a bureau, produced a sheaf of bills and handed them to him. Glancing through them, he saw that she owed milliners and modistes some eleven thousand francs. During the years he had amassed a considerable fortune, but that lay in England. While on the Continent, he was dependent on his pay as an A.D.C., and honorarium as a Commander of the Legion of Honour. These were handsome; moreover, he lived mainly at the Emperor's expense and, while on campaigns, spent little. Even so, he could not afford to allow her to spend at such a rate. Abruptly he told her that he would settle her debts, but in future she must limit herself to one thousand francs a month, otherwise he would be unable to meet their liabilities.
This new imposition of having to pay for expensive clothes, in order that she could enhance her attraction for other men, was another thorn in his flesh. As he left her, he wondered whether, when he had been with Sir John Moore, he had been foolish not to remain with the British army and so return to England.
Against the sickness he felt at being saddled with Lisala could be set the present intriguing situation. Having for so long been on the inside of the events that had led to the Revolution, the fall of Robespierre, the Directoire and the rise to supreme power of Napoleon, he could not bear the thought of not participating in the moves which might result in the Emperor's-downfall, now that such powerful influences were scheming to bring it about.
For close on three weeks, no event of importance occurred, although in Court circles rumours were rife. It was said that the slippery Fouche had cleared himself of participation in a conspiracy. There was no evidence whatever against him, except that, during the Emperor's absence, he had openly become friends with Talleyrand. 'Why not?' he was reported to have argued glibly. 'Although our ideas and tastes differ in many ways, we both have Your Imperial Majesty's interests at heart. Surely it is for the benefit of your administration that we should have buried the hatchet and endeavoured to reconcile our points of view?'
To refute that Napoleon could find no argument, so Fouche remained Minister of the Interior, working from dawn to dusk and long into the night, directing his countless army of spies who permeated every country on the Continent.
During these days, apart from a few loyal personal friends, Talleyrand remained isolated. Few of the throngs that had formerly graced his salons were prepared to take the risk, should the Emperor's wrath suddenly descend upon him, of having appeared to be his associates. Roger was shrewd enough to realise that, as they already understood each other, only harm could be done by their publicly displaying their friendship at this juncture; so he simply sent a note to the effect that, if Talleyrand wished to see him, he would be happy to meet him at any time or place.
Meanwhile, Napoleon was obviously hesitating to grasp the nettle. Any lesser man he could have dealt with summarily; but not the Prince dc Benevento. He had made the Prince a High Dignitary of the Empire, so that he was equal in status with his own brothers. To strike at him was to strike at one of the props of his own throne. But, on the 28th January, he decided to postpone the issue no longer.
A Council was called at the Tuileries, at which numerous Dignitaries and Ministers were present, Talleyrand among them. After routine business had been discussed, Napoleon detained him, Cambaceres, Lebrun, Decres and Fouche, but dismissed the others. The Emperor walked up and down, his hands clasped behind his back, gradually working himself up into a fury.
He accused Talleyrand of constantly working against his interests; of having advised him to have executed the Due d'Enghien; of having persuaded him to go into Spain; of circulating rumours designed to destroy public confidence; of influencing wealthy speculators to depress the funds. Then he charged him with the implications in the letter to Murat.
Talleyrand, who was leaning against the mantelpiece for support, merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged:
'But, Sire, you were at the war. Your courage is well known. You expose yourself most recklessly. Any day you might be killed. France cannot be allowed to fall into anarchy. We must be prepared for eventualities. None of us would wish to see a Bourbon again on the throne. The situation could be controlled only by a man popular with the people whom Your Imperial Majesty has raised in his shadow and would continue to pursue his policies. Who more suitable than your sister's husband, whom you have made King of Naples? But only, I repeat, in the terrible eventuality of Your Majesty's being suddenly taken from us.'
The Emperor stared at him, stony-eyed, then burst out, 'I do not believe a word of it. You are a thief! You are a coward! All your life you have deceived and betrayed everyone.' For over twenty minutes Napoleon continued to rave at the Prince, finally winding up:
'You would sell your own father. You deserve to be broken like a glass. I have the power to do it, but I despise you too much. You are shit in a silk stocking.'
Talleyrand's face was white, his eyes half-closed, and his lips compressed. He displayed no dejection, but an icy disdain.
Angered beyond endurance by his attitude of apparent indifference, Napoleon sought to shatter his aristocratic calm by shouting at him:
'Why did you not tell me that the Duke of San Carlos was your wife's lover?'
Still imperturbable, Talleyrand replied, 'Indeed, Sire, I did not think that this news was to the increase of Your Majesty's glory, nor mine.'
Defeated, Napoleon strode towards the door. Casting a menacing look over his shoulder, which included Fouche, he snarled, 'Know that if a revolution does suddenly come about, both of you will be the first to be crushed by it.' Then he slammed the door.
The eyes of all the others remained fixed on Talleyrand. Leaving the mantelpiece, he limped towards the door. Pausing there, he turned and said:
'What a pity, Messieurs, that such a great man should have been so badly brought up.'
Those who had witnessed this amazing scene did not long keep it to themselves. Within a quarter of an hour Roger had an account of it; and, while it appeared that Talleyrand had exonerated himself, he waited anxiously to see what the next move would be.
The following morning, the Emperor, yet again half cowed, half fascinated by the unbreakable spirit of the great aristocrat, did no more than deprive him of the office of Grand Chamberlain. That evening, to everyone's amazement, Talleyrand ignored the fact that he was in disgrace and appeared, as imperturbable as ever, at a Court reception.