'I agree,' she said firmly.
'In good time! I was sure you would.'
'Let it be understood clearly,' Marianne added quickly. 'I agree in principle to be married in a month, but between now and then I shall do all I can to find a husband of my own choosing.'
'I see no objection, providing always that you choose one who is worthy of us. All I ask is that you come, alone or otherwise, at the place and time I shall appoint. Let us call it a bargain, if you like. I will release you from Francis Cranmere, and you will protect your honour or pledge yourself to accept the man I shall bring you. Is it agreed?'
'A bargain is a bargain,' Marianne said. 'I pledge myself to honour this one.'
'Very well. In that case I shall set about fulfilling my part of the bargain.'
He moved to a tall writing desk which stood open in a corner, and taking a sheet of paper and a pen, wrote a few words. Meanwhile, Marianne poured herself another cup of coffee. She had no thought of going back on the words she had uttered, but one disturbing possibility occurred to her which she hastened to put into words.
'Supposing that I fail to find someone, may I ask one favour, godfather?'
He looked round at her without speaking, waiting to hear what she would say.
'If I must accept the husband of your choice, please, I beg of you, think of the child and do not make him bear the name of one who is his father's enemy.'
The cardinal smiled and dipped his pen in the standish with a tiny shrug.
'Not even my loyalty to the king would tempt me to anything so base,' he said with gentle reproach. 'You know me well enough. No such thought should ever have occurred to you.'
He finished what he was writing, sanded it, then folded it and affixed a wafer. He held it out to Marianne.
'Take this. I shall be leaving Paris in a few minutes and I do not like to leave you in this perilous situation. Tomorrow morning, take this letter to Lafitte, the banker. He will give you the fifty thousand livres which this English devil demands. That will grant you a breathing space, and allow you to recover that foolish Adelaide who seems to have grown no wiser with age.'
Amazement took away Marianne's breath as nothing else in that extraordinary interview had been able to do. She stared at the letter as if it were something miraculous, hardly daring to touch it. Her godfather's magnificent generosity left her speechless, especially as it forced her to overcome her resentment at his severity. She had thought him to be acting solely from a sense of duty and now, with a stroke of the pen, he had made his protection something warm and real. Her eyes filled with tears because for a while it had seemed as if he no longer loved her.
'There, take it,' the cardinal said gruffly, 'and don't ask unanswerable questions. You may have known me as poor as a church mouse but that does not mean I cannot find the money to save your life.'
There was, in fact, no time for any questions. The library door opened to admit a second cardinal. The newcomer, who was dressed in the robes of his office, was as small as the Cardinal San Lorenzo but his face, which was extremely handsome, had a pronounced air of nobility and bore a striking resemblance to the portrait over the fireplace.
'The coach and escort are at the door, my poor friend. We must go. Your horse is ready in the stable with your saddle-bags and such clothes as you need.'
'I am ready.' Gauthier de Chazay spoke almost joyously, gripping the newcomer's hands warmly. 'My dear Philibert, I can never thank you enough for sacrificing yourself like this. Marianne, I want to introduce you to Canon de Bruillard who, not content with offering me the shelter of his house, has carried friendship to the point of taking my place tonight.'
'Good heavens!' Marianne exclaimed. 'I had forgotten. You are to be sent to Rheims. But —'
'But I am not going. While my friend Philibert, accompanied by the Abbé Bichette, is travelling peacefully to Rheims in the coach, escorted by the Duc de Rovigo's men, I shall be disguised as a servant and riding hard for Italy where the Holy Father is waiting for me to report to him about a certain mission.'
Still clutching the precious letter which spelled a year of freedom to her, Marianne stood speechlessly staring at the two cardinals, the real and the false, wondering if she had ever really known Gauthier de Chazay. Who was this man who had fought with such determination to save her as a baby, who, although he certainly possessed no fortune of his own, was able with a stroke of the pen to pay out a prince's ransom, and who travelled the roads on horseback dressed as a servant?
Evidently the one-time Abbé had noticed his god-daughter's bewilderment, for he went to her and kissed her affectionately.
'Do not try to understand what is outside your comprehension, Marianne. Just remember that you are still my beloved child and that I want you to be happy, even if the means I use to procure your happiness do not meet with your approval. God keep you, my child. I will pray for you as I have always done.'
He blessed her quickly and then turned away to open the window.
'This is the swiftest way to reach the stables without meeting anyone,' he said. 'Good-bye, my dear Philibert. Send Bichette back to me, you know where, when you can spare him. I hope you will not have to suffer for our little deception.'
'Have no fears. The escort will notice nothing. I will hide my face as far as possible, and fortunately neither of us is well known. Your brethren of the Sacred College may be a trifle surprised but I will explain matters to them and in a few days I shall find the means to return here, in my real identity. Have a good journey, my dear Chazay, and convey my filial regards, respect and obedience to the Holy Father.'
'I will. Marianne, farewell. My regards to that silly creature Adelaide when you find her. We have never seen eye to eye but I have a fondness for her just the same.'
Whereupon his Eminence threw one leg over the window-sill and jumped down into the courtyard. Marianne saw him vanish swiftly through the darkened doorway of the coach house below the tower. Canon de Bruillard made her a little bow.
'Do not worry about him. He will leave by way of the Seine. And now permit me to leave you also. The Abbé Bichette is outside and the escort is waiting below.'
He was donning a voluminous cloak as he spoke, turning up the collar so as to conceal the greater part of his face. Then, with one last nod of farewell, he left the library. As the door opened, Marianne caught sight of the Abbé Bichette, looking more like a frightened chicken than ever. Crossing to a barred window, she saw a large travelling coach with lighted lamps drawn up in the street below, surrounded by a platoon of mounted men in black cocked hats with red cockades, the horses' hooves striking sparks from the ancient cobbles. This display of military strength for the sake of two peaceable servants of God struck her as absurd and at the same time intolerable. But when she remembered the casual way in which Gauthier de Chazay had climbed out of the window and felt the letter in her hand, she thought again. Surely the little cardinal, so frail and harmless to all appearances, represented an infinitely more active and formidable power than she could ever have imagined? He seemed to command men and events like God himself. In a month a man would be prepared, at his command, to marry her, Marianne, a total stranger and pregnant into the bargain. Why? What for? By what authority?