Still a litde breathlessly, Roger began, 'My dearest love, you are to me as a magnet to a lodestone. How could I not follow you anywhere? But to rejoin you openly I had to make use of my early life of which, while in Persia, I told you nothing. I am, in fact, an Englishman and the son of an Admiral. My father attempted to force me to make the Royal Navy my career. But I hated the thought, so in my teens I ran away to France.
'After a variety of experiences, I joined the French Army and was lucky enough to receive rapid promotion. I have served the Emperor well, but have never fought against my own countrymen. The French believe me to be a Frenchman born in Strasbourg; but I have several times been back to England and have numerous friends there. Naturally, they have no idea that I am also a Colonel in the French Army; and I account for my long absences by having led them to believe that, sometimes for several years, I am travelling in distant parts. Knowing the situation here, I felt certain that your father would regard M. le Chevalier de Breuc as an enemy and refuse to receive me; so, after crossing Spain, I entered Portugal as Mr. Brook and practised this deceit upon him of posing as my non-existent cousin.'
'What an extraordinary life you have led,' Lisala commented, 'and how clever of you to have thought of this way to rejoin me.'
For a while they talked of the long journeys they had made from Persia. Then they made love again, talked, laughed, and made love yet again. It was close on five o'clock in the morning before they could bring themselves to part; but with the happy prospect of renewing their bliss during the nights to come.
The following day Roger slept late then, in the afternoon, took a stroll round the docks at Bclem. They had become a positive hive of activity. The British merchants were still endeavouring to get their goods away in any ship at any price, and now the Portuguese were equally active. There were eight ships of the line, four frigates, four sloops and some twenty merchantmen, all being provisioned in frantic haste, in case the Prince Regent did, after all, change his mind and decide to go to Brazil.
After dining, knowing that he had another long night of love-making before him, Roger went to bed for three hours; then, at midnight, he again scaled the garden wall and, in the pavilion, enjoyed the passionate embraces of Lisala.
Next day, the 25th, he had himself rowed out to the Hibernia to find out if there was any reliable news. Sir Sidney told him that Junot's advance guard was reported to have reached Alenquer only some thirty miles from Lisbon, but that the French army, with its Spanish auxiliaries, was said to be in a shocking state. Torrential rains and lack of sustenance in the country through which they had advanced had reduced their numbers by half. Hundreds of men had been drowned while fording rivers in spate, hundreds more had collapsed from illness and semi-starvation. Yet the remainder, driven by Junot who, no doubt, was being driven by Napoleon, were staggering on. In the Admiral's opinion, if Don Joao had had the guts to order his army to resist the French, even the unwarlike Portuguese troops would have been certain of victory.
Roger stigmatised Strangford as a vain, spineless popinjay; since for some days he had made no further attempt to persuade the Prince Regent to go aboard one of the warships that were being prepared for a voyage to the Americas. But that morning, under a flag of truce, the Minister had gone ashore to deliver an ultimatum from Sir Sidney, 'Either the Prince of Brazil would go to Brazil, and Portugal resume her status as Britain's ally, or the British Fleet would bombard Lisbon until it was reduced to a heap of rubble.'
Returning to the city, Roger spent an hour at his inn, then again presented himself at the de Pombal mansion. This time the Marquis was at home and he received Roger courteously; but he was in a state of considerable agitation. He had just returned from the Palace out at Queluz. Strangford and the Foreign Minister, d'Aranjo, had been closeted with Don Joao, while a host of anxious notabilities had crowded the salons and corridors. Apparently the Prince still refused to go, but at least he had agreed that the most valuable of his treasures should be loaded on to the warships, hedging with the statement that they could always be brought back to the Palace.
Roger then enquired whether, should the royal family leave, the Marquis would accompany them.
De Pombal frowned. 'How can you ask that, Mr. Brook? If Don Joao does go, it is the clear duty of every member of his Court to go with him. In fact, many more people will wish to accompany him than there is accommodation for them in the ships. When you arrived, I was just about to set out for Belem with a view to securing in good time quarters for myself and my family.'
'A wise precaution,' Roger agreed. 'I, too, am about to go there; because in the past twenty-four hours the situation of the English here has greatly deteriorated. A number of your high officials are pro-French, or wish to curry favour with them; so they are beginning to carry out the letter of the law as proclaimed in the Royal Ordinance. A number of prominent British citizens have been arrested; so I am leaving the inn where I have been staying and returning to my quarters in die flagship.'
The Marquis at once offered Roger a seat in his coach and they set off together. That morning Roger had already decided that the time had come for him to accept Sir Sidney's invitation, and had packed a small bag with immediate necessities. On their way, he collected the bag from the Leao d'ouro, but left there the bulk of his belongings, either to be collected later or against his return to the inn should Don Joao finally refuse to leave for Brazil. He then drove on with de Pombal to the port, where they separated.
On board the Hibernia again, Roger found that Strangford had not yet returned. For a while he paced the quarter deck with the impatient Admiral, then they supped together. By ten o'clock Strangford was still not back, so Roger went ashore to keep his nightly rendezvous with Lisala.
He found her sitting in the pavilion, weeping. Putting his arms about her, he asked her what was the matter; although he had already guessed what her answer would be.
'It's terrible; too terrible,' she moaned. 'Nothing definite is settled as yet, but it seems that idiot Don Joao may yet go to Brazil. And if he does Papa has decreed that all of us must go too. This afternoon he secured cabins for us on a barque named the Nunez. Already all the servants have been set to work packing our most valuable pictures and other things to be sent aboard her. But I refuse to be separated from you. If we have to go, you must come with us.'
Roger shook his head and said softly, 'No, sweet. That I will not do. I sacrificed my career with Napoleon by deserting in order to rejoin you in Lisbon. But to go to Brazil is another matter. You can have no idea what that country is like. The towns are small and squalid, surrounded by jungle inhabited by every sort of poisonous reptile, and tropical diseases kill off a considerable part of the population every year. There is no culture and every form of discomfort, including appalling heat that makes life intolerable for several months each year. You and I could not possibly find happiness there.'
'But we'd be together,' she protested. 'And what possible alternative is there?'
That was a question which, during the past few days, had given Roger furiously to think. After the de Pombals had left Isfahan he had contemplated catching up with them on the pretext of asking for Lisala's hand in marriage; but had abandoned it because he thought it certain that the Marquis would refuse him as a suitor for his daughter's hand. But now the situation was very different. The Marquis would certainly think twice before dragging Lisala off to Brazil against her will when an Englishman of good birth and not inconsiderable fortune, whom she loved, wanted to marry her. He had little doubt that he could, if need be, explain away to Napoleon his having left the mission in Isfahan. But he had been within an ace of dying on the field of Eylau. Why should he expose himself to similar risks in other campaigns when, instead, he could settle down in England with the lovely Lisala as his wife? He said to her: