Marianne and The Masked Prince

Her question was answered sooner than she expected. She was on the point of leaving the room when Ouvrard's voice made her pause.

'Do not forget: I shall be waiting. You understand, of course, that there is no need to tell our friend Fortunée about our little agreement. A delightful creature, but inclined to be jealous!'

Jealous? Fortunée? At that moment, Marianne almost forgot her anger and laughed in his face. Did this absurd little man really believe that he had power to attach that exotic creature to himself alone? She had an irresistible urge to throw in his face the information that this 'delightful' but 'jealous' creature was in all probability even then revelling in the arms of the handsome soldier who was her heart's delight. Just to see what he would say.

But Madame Hamelin conducted her life according to her own rules and not for anything would Marianne have caused her the slightest trouble. Besides, it was a relief to know that she was unaware of Ouvrard's little plan and of the terms of the bargain he meant to offer. Marianne was beset by a fresh temptation: to go and warn her instantly, and this she would most probably have done, had Fortunée been alone. But Marianne had no wish for a fresh encounter with the insolent Fournier, much less to interrupt the lovers' tete-a-tete.

'Tell Madame Hamelin I will see her tomorrow,' was all she said to Jonas when he appeared at her side, 'that is, if she is receiving callers.'

'But Mademoiselle Marianne, you are not going out like that? Wait while I call for the carriage.'

'No need, Jonas. I can see my own carriage arriving.'

It was true. A glance through the hall windows had shown her Gracchus-Hannibal bringing the chaise round in sweeping style to draw up at the steps. But even as Jonas tenderly arranged a handy cashmere shawl about Marianne's shoulders, his eyes widened at the sight of Arcadius descending from the carriage.

His black coat was torn, shreds of lace hanging from his shirt front, his fine silk hat completely stove in, one eye blackening nicely and countless scratches on his face: the Vicomte de Jolival showed all the signs of a glorious combat, while Gracchus sat upright on his box, hatless and dishevelled, extremely red of face and bright of eye, wielding his whip with a triumphant flourish.

'Well,' Marianne said, 'so here you are! Where have you been?'

'In the crowd, where you left us,' Jolival growled. 'You look a good deal fresher than we do, but I thought you were wearing a pink dress when we started out?'

'That met with some adventures, too. But let us go home, my friend. You need a bath and some attention to that eye. Home, Gracchus, as quick as you can.'

'If you want me to spring 'em, mademoiselle, we'll have to go through the wall by the Fermiers Généraux and half-way round Paris.'

'Go which way you please, but take us home and avoid the crowd.'

As the carriage swept out of the courtyard once more, Arcadius held his handkerchief to his swollen eye again.

'Well?' he asked. 'Did you get anything?'

'Ten thousand livres which Madame Hamelin offered me at once.'

'That was kind – but not enough. Did you try Ouvrard as I suggested?'

Marianne pursed her lips and frowned at the recollection of what had passed.

'Yes. Fortunée paved the way for me, but we could not agree. He – his charges are too high for me, Arcadius.'

There was a short silence, spent by Jolival in weighing up the implications of these words, which he had no difficulty in interpreting correctly.

'Ah,' was all he said. 'And – does Madame Hamelin know the terms of this bargain?'

'No. Nor is it intended that she should. I would have told her at once, of course, only she was very much occupied.'

'With what?'

'With a certain wounded soldier who dropped on her like a chimney-pot in a gale and who seems to hold a high place in her affections.'

'Fournier, I know. So the hussar has returned? For all his dislike of the Emperor, he can never bear to stay long away from the field of action.'

Marianne uttered a small sigh. 'Is there anything you do not know, my friend?'

Jolival achieved a painful grin in spite of his scratches, and stared gloomily at the ruins of his hat.

'Yes, such as, for instance, how we are to procure the twenty thousand livres that we need?'

'There is only one way left. My jewels. Even if it does mean trouble with the Emperor. You must see if you can pledge them tomorrow. If not, they must be sold.'

'You are making a mistake, Marianne. Believe me, you had better go to the Emperor. Ask for an audience and, since you are to sing at the Tuileries the day after tomorrow…'

'No! Definitely not! He questions too shrewdly and there are things I would not have him know. After all,' she added sadly, 'it is true I am a murderess. I killed a woman, unintentionally, but I killed her. I cannot tell him that.'

'Do you think he will not ask questions if he hears that you have sold his emeralds?'

'Try and arrange to buy them back in two or three months' time. I will sing wherever I am asked. You find me the contracts.'

'Very well,' Jolival sighed. 'I will do my best. Meanwhile, take this.'

He felt in the pocket of his battered white waistcoat and extracted something round and shining which he slipped into Marianne's hand.

'What is this?' she said, leaning over to see it more clearly in the darkness of the chaise.

'A little souvenir of a memorable day,' Jolival said sardonically. 'One of the medals they were throwing to the crowd. I won it in fair fight. Take care of it,' he added, dabbing once more at his swollen eye, 'it cost me dear.'

'I am sorry about your eye, my poor friend, but one thing you may be sure of: even if I live to be a hundred, I shall never forget today.'

CHAPTER FIVE Cardinal San Lorenzo

Faithful to his self-appointed role of cicisbeo, Prince Clary presented himself on the following Wednesday ready to escort Marianne to the Tuileries. But as the ambassadorial carriage drove them there, Marianne did not fail to notice that her companion seemed preoccupied. The young man's forehead was wrinkled below his fair hair in an anxious frown and his candid smile was without its usual gaiety. When she taxed him gently with it, he made no effort to deny it.

'I am uneasy, my dear Maria. I have not seen the Emperor since the night of his marriage, the day before yesterday, and I fear this reception may not go altogether smoothly. I am not yet well-acquainted with his majesty, but I saw him in such anger the other day as he came from the chapel —'

'Anger? Coming out of the chapel? But what happened?' Marianne asked, her curiosity aroused at once.

Leopold Clary smiled and dropped a rapid kiss on her hand.

'Of course, you were not there, you deserted me. Well, I must tell you that as the Emperor entered the chapel he noticed that only twelve of the twenty-seven cardinals invited were actually present. Fifteen had failed to appear and, believe me, their absence was extremely noticeable.'

'But why should they deliberately stay away?'

'That it was deliberate, there can be no doubt, alas. And it has caused us at the embassy a good deal of embarrassment. You know how the Emperor stands with the Pope? He holds his Holiness a prisoner at Savona and did not feel himself bound to apply to him for a dissolution of his previous marriage. It was all done here in Paris. Now the absence of these princes of the Church casts some doubt on the legality of our Archduchess's marriage. It is all most unpleasant, and Prince Metternich was far from pleased at those fifteen empty stalls.'