Marianne

'Ah, splendid! Take her into my office and ask her to wait. I'm coming. Give me my dressing-gown and slippers and find one for this young lady. Quick now!'

As Constant withdrew, Napoleon leapt out of bed regardless of his nakedness and ripped away the sheet which Marianne had drawn up under her arms.

'Let me look at you a moment more before I go off to work! You know you are lovely enough to damn an Emperor? I cannot make you an Empress, alas, but I shall make you a queen, a queen of beauty and of talent – I'll lay my empire at your feet.'

He filled both hands with the sumptuous mass of hair that fell around her, cradling her face in it. He swept her joyously into his arms and hugged her, then, just as suddenly, dropped her back on to the bed and heaped the sheets and covers over her.

'Now cover yourself, siren! Not even Constant is privileged to see my treasures.'

By the time the valet returned, the Emperor was dressed in trousers and a white flannel dressing-gown and was putting on his slippers.

'Your majesty has not put on a neckcloth?' Constant said, earning himself a black look from his master who, however, merely replied:

'My bath in fifteen minutes. Tell Corvisart that I am quite well and have no need of him this morning. See that mademoiselle has everything she needs. I am going to see Madame Hamelin.'

Marianne had no time to ask any questions about this early morning visitor. Napoleon had gone. Instead, she got up and made her way into the Emperor's dressing room, thrown open to her by Constant. As though it were perfectly natural, he gave her everything she might need, including a large bottle of eau-de-Cologne.

'His majesty gets through vast quantities of it,' he observed with a smile. Marianne thought she liked this confidential servant. He had a frank, open face, immediately likeable, the face of one belonging to the north. On the other hand, she also had the feeling that Constant liked her, a feeling partly due to the many little attentions he showed her without in the least appearing to do so.

When, after ten minutes or so, Napoleon returned, she was already dressed in the soft blue woollen gown given her by Madame de Recusant.

'Bravo!' he cried. 'I like women who don't dawdle over their toilet. You'd make a good soldier! Come now, I'm going to present you to the lady I've decided shall have charge of you until I find you a house worthy of you.'

'Is she this – Madame Hamelin?' Marianne said with a slight hesitation. 'I know the name and I believe I may already have seen the lady.'

'You will certainly have seen her at Talleyrand's. She is a great friend of his but the only difference is that I trust her, which is more than I do our dear Prince of Benevento. His house is no place for the woman I love.'

'Is she then a very virtuous lady?' Marianne hazarded, thinking of Madame Fouché and seeing herself already shut up in a household of grim respectability.

Napoleon's shout of laughter reassured her instantly.

'She, Fortunée? She has been called the giddiest creature in France. Oh, no, she is by no means a prude. She was one of the most spectacular merveilleuses in the time of the Directory and since then has lost count of the number of her lovers. But though her virtue may be only a distant memory, she has other much more solid and reliable qualities, such as an honest, sincere heart, unfailing loyalty and a strong belief in friendship. Do you know, she even went on her knees to beg me not to divorce my wife? Yes, she's a good friend. Her house, her belongings and her sharp tongue are always at the service of those she likes – and I want her to like you. You will never find a better bastion against the malice of the fashionable world, which she knows as no one else does. Besides which, she lives in a delightful house not far from Montmatre, and sufficiently discreet for nocturnal visitors to pass unnoticed and to make it possible to hide someone there.'

'Hide someone? Who is to hide there—'

'You, mio dolce amore! I have decided to hide you until the time, don't worry, it will not be long, when you shall burst on the world. Didn't I tell you I wanted to put Paris, Rome, Milan and Brussels at your feet. No. No questions. You'll see. Now come.'

The Emperor's office was a plain room, dominated by tall mahogany book-cases. Marianne remembered the woman waiting there at once. How could she ever forget that dark, fascinating creole face? Fortunée Hamelin's style of beauty was frankly exotic and, at thirty-four, she was still a remarkably attractive woman with magnificent black hair, teeth that were very white and pointed, and red lips with a very slight thickness that betrayed perhaps a touch of negro blood. With all this went an island grace which only Josephine could rival. The one came from Martinique, the other from Saint Domingo but they had always been firm friends. Marianne liked Madame Hamelin's steady, smiling eyes and even the strong scent of roses which enveloped her like a cloud.

As soon as Marianne appeared, looking somewhat stiff and uncomfortable, Fortunée leapt up from the little green and gold striped satin sofa on which she had been sitting amid a great mass of furs, and came forward eagerly to embrace her, exclaiming as she did so in her musical creole voice:

'My dear, dear girl, you cannot conceive how happy it makes me to take you under my wing. For ages I've been longing to steal you from that great stupid princess! How did you manage to dig her out, sire? Our dear Talleyrand watched over her like Jason with the Golden Fleece—'

'To be honest, it was not so very hard. The old rogue was hoist with his own petard! But I shall not prevent you telling him that I have given her into your keeping – on condition he keeps his mouth shut. I don't want her talked of for the moment. He will have to make up some story when he knows what has become of her.' Napoleon smiled wickedly. 'I have an idea,' he went on, 'he must be beginning to feel a little anxious about her! Now, run away both of you. It is nearly time for my levee. Your carriage is at the side gate, Fortunée?'

'Yes, sire. It is waiting.'

'Excellent. I'll come to your house tonight, about eleven. Now be off with you. As for you, my singing bird, take care of yourself but think only of me.'

He was in a hurry now, fiddling nervously with the heaps of papers and portfolios in red morocco which littered his enormous desk. But Marianne herself was too lost in thought to feel offended. Madame Hamelin's reference to the Golden Fleece had reminded her of the companion of her adventures and the recollection was not a pleasant one. He had been hurt, he might be waiting for her and she would have to break the word she had given him. It was an uncomfortable thought. But then, she was so happy. She could not help preferring that slight sense of guilt to the regret that would have been hers had she left France. Jason would soon forget the girl he had won at cards in one night's madness.

Napoleon tweaked her ear. 'You might at least kiss me instead of standing there dreaming,' he reproached her. 'The time will go slowly for me, until tonight. But I must send you away.'

Fortunée had gone discreetly to look out of a window but even so Marianne was conscious of her presence and gave herself to his embrace with some timidity. Napoleon, though still in his dressing-gown, was Emperor once more. She slipped from his arms and swept him a deep curtsey.

'Your majesty's to command and, more than ever, his faithful servant.'

He laughed. 'I love you when you put on your court airs,' he told her. Then, in a different voice, he called out; 'Rustan!'

On the instant, the mameluke appeared, dressed in a splendid costume of red velvet embroidered with gold and a white turban. He was a Georgian of great size, formally sold as a slave by the Turks and brought home by General Bonaparte with a hundred others from his Egyptian campaign. Although he slept each night across the emperor's door, he had been married for two years to the daughter of an usher at the palace, Alexandrine Doubille. No one could have had a more peaceable nature but Rustan, with his brown skin, his turban and his great, curved scimitar, was an impressive figure, although it was his exotic character which most impressed Marianne.