Evil in a Mask

Slightly mollified, the Emperor snapped, 'That Fouche should spy upon my private life is intolerable.'

'You are unfair, Sire. He docs so only for your protection, and no monarch could have a more competent Chief of Police.'

'He is as cunning a rascal as ever drew breath, and useful in such matters as dealing with these eternally rebellious Chouans. But I long since took the Ministry of Police from him and gave it to General Savary.'

'Of that I was aware; but Fouche still concerns himself for Your Majesty's safety. Savary, I am told, showed great ability in luring Prince Ferdinand across the border to you in Bayonne.'

'He did indeed; and it was no easy task. That great block­head, Murat, got on his high horse and declared that, as a sol­dier, it was beneath him to soil his hands with such a business; and the Spanish people did their utmost to prevent the Prince from leaving Madrid. But Savary beguiled him with a pro­mise that we would let him have the throne and, on the last stage of the journey, when he endeavoured to break away, virtually kidnapped him.'.

For a moment Napoleon paused, then he went on reminiscently. *What scenes took place when I did have them all at Bayonne. That imbecile old King, his ugly, lecherous Queen, poor Godoy with his handsome face a mass of scars, and that cowardly young swine of a Prince. They near tore one another to pieces. But I made them all dance to my tune, then packed them off to Talleyrand at his chateau of Valencay.'

As Roger listened, his spirits rose. It was like old times for the Emperor to be talking to him in such a familiar strain. But he was counting his chickens before they were hatched. With a sudden change of mood, Napoleon glowered at him and said:

'But we are not here to talk of such matters. Enough of police and women.'

'Forgive me, Sire,' Roger put in quickly, ‘But a woman is the cause of your displeasure with me. I was about to say that you take women to bed only as a relaxation; whereas I have frequently gone to bed with one in order to learn secrets that are of value to you.'

'And what have you learned in this case?'

'Alas, Sire; nothing of any importance. But, had fortune favoured me, I might have done, and I may yet'

Napoleon scowled. "You have the effrontery to tell me that on this slender chance you ignored my commands and ab­sented yourself from duty for many months?'

'That is not so. I did my utmost for you both in Turkey and Persia, then...'

'Then, instead of accompanying Gardane's Mission to India, you told him some cock-and-bull story about going off on your own to Goa.'

'It was as good an excuse as I could think of to leave his Mission.'

'Excuse to chase this woman who had besotted you back to Europe, instead of obeying my instructions regarding the Mahratta Princes.'

'I told you, Sire, before leaving Poland that, although I had once crossed India, I knew little of that vast country, and I considered that I could serve you better . . .'

The Emperor's eyes blazed and his face was becoming pur­ple, as he bellowed, 'So you set yourself up to be a better judge of my interests than I am.'

'Sire!' Roger held up a warning hand. "I beg you to have a care. Last time we had a ... a slight difference of opinion, you...'

'Slight, mon Dieu! You had seduced my sister Pauline, and had the infernal impudence to ask my consent to your marrying her.'

Roger managed to force a laugh. 'Oh, come, Sire. Twas she who seduced me; and you know her amorous inclinations well enough to believe that. I was about to say, though, that our interview ended by Your Majesty's having an epileptic fit.'

Turning away, Napoleon began to walk up and down, his hands clasped behind his back, as he fought to regain control of himself; then he muttered, 'Yes . . . yes. That is true. But no-one must know of these . . . these occasional attacks. You have not mentioned it?'

'Is that likely? I am Your Majesty's most loyal servant.'

'Fiddlesticks! Were that so you would not have disobeyed me.'

'It was in your interests. The lady concerned is the daugh­ter of the Marquis de Pombal. He was the Portuguese Am­bassador in Isfahan.¹

'I know it.'

'Very well then. He was recalled to Lisbon. As one of the most trusted advisers of Don Joao he would have been privy to all the Prince Regent's secrets, and I would have learned them through his daughter. Knowing from long past Your Majesty's designs on Portugal, I decided ...'

'So that is your story. You are as plausible as ever. But I do not believe it. Fathers do not divulge State secrets to their daughters. And how, pray, did you think to serve me by going off to Brazil?'

'It was not my intention. I was aboard a ship endeavouring to influence de Pombal into persuading Don Joao to post­pone the sailing of the fleet, in order to give Junot time to arrive and capture it. A storm blew up, I could not get back to shore, and was carried off to Brazil against my will.'

'Junot! That bungler! What a mess he made of things.'

'You are unfair, Sire. Junot performed a miracle by reach­ing Lisbon at all. He led his troops through storm, flood and a land naked of provisions. His army of thirty thousand liter­ally fell to pieces. When he did arrive, he had left only fifteen hundred starving men.'

'But he failed, he failed! And I accept no excuses for failure.'

Roger decided that the time had come to take the offensive, and he burst out with simulated anger:

'I know it! And you should be ashamed of yourself for having denied poor Junot his Marshal's baton. He, I and scores of your Other old friends go through fire for you and suffer incredible hardships. Yet, if fate thwarts our efforts, what do we get from you? Only kicks and curses. Why any of us should continue to serve such a master, I cannot think.'

Halting in his stride, the Emperor bellowed, 'How dare you talk to me like this? How dare you? In all my Army, no other officer has the impertinence to address me in such a manner.'

'They are professional soldiers, trained to unquestioning obedience,' Roger snapped back. 'I am not; and I speak my mind to you for your own good. Time was when you would listen to reason. But that is so no longer. You rate yourself the new Charlemagne, with all Europe as your footstool. You have made your incompetent brothers puppet Kings, and looted a dozen countries of their riches. But you are not a Habsburg nor a Romanoff. Your Empire was created only yesterday, and is built on sand. It is maintained by terror, oppression and the loyalty of your old friends. If you continue to treat them so ungenerously and reject the advice of such men as Talley­rand ...'

Talleyrand! That venal scoundrel?'

"Yes, Talleyrand.' Roger sprang to his friend's defence. 'The greatest statesman France has produced since the Cardinal-Duke de Richelieu. Do you ignore his counsel and that of others who see clearly the best interests of France, your Em­pire will come crashing about your ears.'

'Not while I live! Not while I live!'

'It will. You have come to believe yourself infallible. But you are not. You are bleeding France to death, and by keeping your head above the clouds, will bring about her utter ruin.'

'Sacre nom! You must have taken leave of your senses. I'll not tolerate such insolence for another moment. You shall rue the day you had the effrontery to question the wisdom of my policies.'

Roger saw that he had gone too far, but now there could be no drawing back. He might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Inflamed by genuine anger, he cried contemptu­ously:

'Your policies! And where have they led us? Talleyrand endeavoured to persuade you to give reasonable terms to Prus­sia. Instead you robbed her of half her lands and she is longing for the chance to stab you in the back. He begged you to make Austria your friend. Instead you filched from her vast terri­tories which she has ruled for centuries. While she licks her wounds she is recruiting new armies to have at you again as soon as she is strong enough.'

'Stop, I say! Stop!' roared the Emperor.

'I'll not stop,' Roger flung back. 'Talleyrand did his utmost to dissuade you from going into Spain; but you ignored his advice. And look at the result. Your maltreatment of their royal family has raised such indignation among the people of Spain that the whole country has risen in arms against you, and...'

'A rabble! I'll soon drive those mangy curs back into their kennels.'

'On the contrary, it is they who will drive your troops into the fortresses and besiege them there. Again and again Talleyrand has advised you to make peace with England. Instead you are endeavouring to bring her to her knees by your "Con­tinental System". And at what a price. Discontent throughout your whole Empire through depriving millions of people of...'

'Peace with England!' The Emperor banged his list vio­lently on his desk. 'Never! Commerce has always been their strength. They are a nation of shopkeepers; and by my meas­ures I'll break them yet.'

With equal violence, Roger thrust out an accusing finger. 'You are no longer the great First Consul who restored law and prosperity to France. The lust for power has unbalanced your mind. If you do not cease to play the pan of God with­out his wisdom, you will become known as the "mad Em­peror".'

Napoleon was again going purple in the face. 'I'll hear no more!' he screamed. 'What you have said is Lese majeste. I could have you shot for it.'

Roger had known from the beginning that he had little chance of walking out of the room a free man. Now indigna­tion had led him to burn his boats entirely. His eyes blazing, he shouted back:

'Shoot me then. I give not a damn. I'll be no more than another of the million men who, for your selfish ends, you have caused to die on battlefields.'

For a full minute the Emperor remained silent, breathing heavily. Then, as often happened after being shaken by one of his terrible rages, his anger drained away, and he said quietly:

'Nay, I will not do that. You saved my life that night when we were together on an island outside Venice. I now give you yours. I will go further. I'll not hold against you what you have just said of me. It was due only to your mind not being large enough to appreciate that my acts, of which you dis­approve, were necessary in carrying out my great designs.'

Suddenly his voice became harsh as he went on, 'But in my service I have no place for deserters. That you neglected my interests to pursue this woman, I am convinced. I hereby de­prive you of your rank, of your status as a Commander of the Legion d’Honneur, and sentence you to five years' imprison­ment in a fortress.'

Roger paled. He had expected no more than a sentence of six months, or a year at the worst. There was nothing more he could say or do. He had hopelessly overplayed his hand and lost.

Then, as the Emperor put out his hand to the bell which would summon the escort, a side door in the big salon was thrown open and Josephine came running in.

In her hand the Empress held several sheets of parchment, covered with close writing. 'Napoleon!' she cried. 'I have news! The most wonderful news.' Then she threw her arms round her husband and kissed him.

Frowning at being disturbed, he half drew back and asked testily, 'News? What news?'

Josephine was about to reply when she caught sight of Roger. Turning, she ran towards him, with both hands outstretched, as she exclaimed, 'Why, here is the hero of it all! Our paladin I Our Sir Galahad! The most valiant gentleman in all France. How right they were to name you le brave Breuc?

Roger took her hands and kissed them. He had been a close friend of Josephine's for many years. Over those years he had often given her sound advice. By saving her reputation he had enabled her marriage to Napoleon to take place. Later, when Napoleon had threatened divorce on account of her infideli­ties, Roger had again saved the situation. There had been an occasion when she had saved his life. Her present outburst left him entirely at a loss. Wildly his mind clutched at the thought that she might save him now.

Napoleon, equally puzzled, exclaimed, 'Come! What is all this about?'

Gaily she waved the long letter. 'This should have reached me ten days ago, had it not had to be sent on from Paris. It is from Turkey; from my beloved cousin Aimee Dubucq. All is changed. There has been another revolution there. When Baraiktar, the Pasha of Rustchuk, learned how Mustapha and his evil mother had dethroned the Sultan Selim, he marched his army from distant Bulgaria to Constantinople, surprised those devilish Janissaries and defeated them. Poor Selim is dead. He gave his life while the Seraglio was being stormed, to defend his young cousin, Mahmoud. Mustapha is now a prisoner and Mahmoud proclaimed Sultan. The prophecy of our youth, that Aimee and I would wear crowns, came true, and now the last part of it will follow. Dear Aimee's son, the enlightened friend of France, will reign gloriously.'*

'This is indeed good news,' agreed the Emperor. 'But what has all this to do with Breuc?'

'Had it not been for him, Aimee, Selim and Mahmoud would all have been murdered on the night that the Janis­saries revolted.' Josephine again waved the letter. 'It is all here. He was in the Seraglio that night, dining with them en famille. When they heard the screams of the eunuchs who were being slaughtered, and the Janissaries began breaking down the doors of the apartment, Selim resigned himself to death. But le brave Breuc took command. He got them all up a chimney on to the roof, then, at great peril, out of the Seraglio to a boat in which they rowed up the Bosphorus to a castle with a loyal garrison. It was that which enabled them to parley and so save their lives.'

The Emperor stared at Roger. 'Gardane told me nothing of this.'

* Historical note. The prophecy did come true. For thirty-one years Mahmoud ruled the Turkish Empire. During his reign he revolu­tionised Turkey by introducing many reforms and Western customs. But this normally mild man never forgave the Janissaries. Aimee died, venerated by all, in 1817. Nine years after her death, Mahmoud, having slowly created a new body of Household troops loyal to him, decided to deal with the Janissaries, who were again giving serious trouble. He had five thousand of them slain in a single night and abolished the corps for ever.

Roger bowed. 'Why should he, Sire? It was, like my last, a private venture; and differs only in that it did not fail. As a result of it I am happy to think that I preserved not only the Empress' dear friend, -but a Sultan whose pro-French leaning should prove of value to Your Majesty.'

'You must decorate him I' Josephine cried. 'Make him a Count, or at least a Baron.'

Frowning, Napoleon said curtly, 'On the contrary, Madame, I have sentenced him to five years in prison.'

'Prison! No; it is unthinkable. What can he possibly have done to incur so great a measure of your displeasure?'

'He is a deserter. Instead of obeying my orders to go to India, he came to Lisbon and has since absented himself from my service for many months.'

Josephine's big dark eyes flashed angrily. 'Is that so great a crime when, for many years, he has served you faithfully? And I doubt not he had a good reason for absenting himself.'

'He did so to pursue a woman.'

The anger in Josephine's eyes swiftly disappeared. Throw­ing back her head, she laughed, for once showing her only bad feature—uneven, discoloured teeth. 'Now I am truly amazed,' she said to her husband. 'Even my great Eagle does not give all his life to waging war and affairs of State. How can he expect lesser men not at times to give way to the most natural of temptations?'

Roger knew what that laugh had cost her. During the early years of her marriage, Josephine had been flagrantly unfaith­ful to Napoleon. But time had wrought a change in her. Not only had she become devoted to him, but his infidelities to her pained her greatly. She had made light of a man neglect­ing his duty for a woman only to strike a spark of sympathy in Napoleon's mind for the frailty of which Roger was accused.

A cynical smile twisted Napoleon's lips for a second. 'In one sense you are right, my dear. Certain impulses must be satisfied unless a man's work is to suffer from their repres­sion. But Breuc has overstepped the mark by indulging his own inclinations for far too long.'

'Sire,' Roger protested swiftly, 'I erred only in going to Lisbon, as I thought in your best interests, instead of to India. To Brazil I was carried off against my will.'

'Do you swear that?'

'I do, Sire; upon my honour.'

Coming round from behind the desk, Napoleon stretched out his plump, beautifully-modelled hand, seized the lobe of Roger's left ear and tweaked it painfully. While making this curious gesture of approbation, he said, 'Very well, then, you amorous scoundrel. You are reprieved. For that you must thank the Empress.'

Hardly daring to believe that he had heard aright, Roger went down on one knee and kissed the hand Josephine ex­tended to him. Quickly she raised him and cried, 'You owe me nothing. I felt sure that all the time the Emperor was only trying to frighten you. He has far too big a heart to behave harshly to an old friend.'

Roger admired her tact, but had the gravest doubts about her statement as applying to himself before she had come upon the scene. Meanwhile, she was going on, 'You must join us for supper and it will be quite like old times. Afterwards I will read you Aimee's letter, and you must tell us all about your recent adventures.'

Napoleon nodded, and said, 'You were right about the state of Spain. It is causing me considerable concern. Tomorrow you can go into the matter with Berthier. He will find plenty of ways in which we can make good use of you.'

Bowing his acquiescence, Roger suppressed a sigh. Although he had had a miraculous escape, gone was all prospect of a speedy return to England. Once more he had been caught in that tangled web, on the unravelling of which depended the future of Europe.

Josephine proved right, in that supper was very reminis­cent of the informal meals that Roger had enjoyed in the old days at Malmaison, with only a few intimate friends present. As a raconteur he was at his best and, rallying himself after the ordeal through which he had just passed, he held the interest of the small company with an account of the trials and tribula­tions he had suffered both voyaging to and in Brazil.

Then he told them about his marriage. Everyone congratu­lated him, and Josephine cried, 'Now I can reward you myself for saving dear Aimee. You must send for your wife, and I will make her one of my ladies.'

But Napoleon habitually ate fast, so the meal was soon over, and they adjourned to a small drawing room. After such suppers at Malmaison, they had often played charades or the First Consul had had all the candles but one put out and fright­ened the ladies by telling ghost stories. Those days were gone and, having listened with slight signs of impatience while Jo­sephine read Aimee's letter, he began to fire questions at Roger about Syria, Mesopotamia and Persia. Roger's replies were always swift and to the point; and, by the end of the evening, he was confident that he had again established himself in the Emperor's good graces.

Next morning he reported to Berthier. The dome-headed little Chief of Staff spread out a map on which were marked the places in Spain where there had been outbreaks of rebel­lion and the estimated numbers of the insurgents. The picture was even more formidable than Roger had been led to believe. Moreover, Berthier told him that a Convention had been formed by leading representatives of all the groups to co-ordi­nate measures against the French; but where it held its meet­ings was unfortunately unknown.

That evening, Roger wrote to Lisala, telling her that he would be remaining with the Emperor, of the honour the Em­press proposed to do her, and that she should set out for Madrid as soon as possible. He also wrote to Junot asking, in view of the unsettled state of the country, to provide an escort for her.

During the ten days that followed, alarming reports of the state of the country continued to pour in. The news of the revolts that had broken out spontaneously in half a dozen places had acted like dynamite on the whole people. With incredible speed, the long-suffering Spaniards in every city, town and village had loosed their hatred of the French. With fanatical zeal they had taken up arms to destroy their oppres­sors. Blood-lusting mobs had seized Mayors and other authori­ties who were puppets of the French administration and hanged them in the squares. Many considerable towns were now in the hands of the insurgents. They gave no quarter, and small bodies of French troops were continually ambushed and mur­dered.

Then the news arrived that, on July 4th, Canning had en­tered into an alliance with the Convention representing the people of Spain. Grimly Napoleon had to accept the fact that Spain, for so long his unwilling ally, had gone over to the enemy and was now, officially, at war with France.

With his usual dynamic energy, he issued innumerable or­ders, concentrating his troops in vital areas. The road from Bayonne via Burgos to Madrid was to be kept open at all costs. Bessieres, with eighty thousand men, would hold the north; Dupont, with another army, would suppress the revolts in the south. But on July 20th the most staggering news came in. After early successes, General Dupont, his troops weighed down with plunder, had been forced to retire into Baylen. On the previous day he had surrendered and his twenty thousand men had laid down their arms.

Napoleon's fury knew no bounds. He was escorted to his apartment, screaming curses. When he had been somewhat calmed down, he sobbed, 'Could I have expected that from Dupont, a man whom I loved and was rearing to become a Marshal? They say he had no other way to save the lives of his soldiers. Better, far better to have died with arms in their hands. Their death would have been glorious; we should have avenged them. You can always supply the place of soldiers. Honour alone, when once lost, can never be regained.'

It was a terrible blow, for it shattered the Grand Army's belief in its invincibility, and the surrender of one of its corps to a rabble of peasants armed with ancient shotguns, scythes and pitchforks was the last ignominy.

On the 22nd, Lisala arrived. She had delayed to collect as much money as she could. With her she also brought her old nurse, Josefa Bilboa. She had a nerve-racking journey as. in spite of the escort of Chasseurs supplied by Junot, her convoy had been fired upon three times. One of the men had been killed and several wounded; but she had escaped unharmed.

Although Lisala was now six months pregnant, her con­dition was still not obvious at first glance and, when Roger presented her to Josephine, her striking beauty made a great impression on those present. The Empress received her with the greatest kindness and told her at once that only very light duties would be expected of her, as she must rest a lot and take care of her health.

As a married couple, the de Breucs were given a comfort­able suite, and Lisala soon made friends with several of Jo­sephine's ladies. But she was greatly disappointed by the Court She had heard so much of the magnificent balls and fetes given by the Emperor whenever his headquarters were in a city, and had expected life in Madrid to be a round of pleasure. Instead, the inmates of the Palace now lived much as they would have done had they been in a well-provisioned fortress.

Since the revolt, all social activities had ceased. The ladies were forbidden to leave the Palace and had to while away the time as best they could with needlework and music. The brilliantly uniformed Staff Officers could give no time to en­tertaining them. Roger and his companions spent many hours each day writing despatches, sifting intelligence and routeing convoys of food and ammunition to isolated garrisons. They could snatch only hasty meals, and often did not get to bed until the early hours of the morning. Sweating and dust-covered, an unending succession of couriers clattered in and out of the courtyard. The Emperor, stern and gloomy, was rarely to be seen.

In spite of the continued success of the insurgents, Napo­leon still refused to recognise the magnitude of the struggle with which he was faced. He stubbornly maintained that, given good leadership, twenty-five thousand French troops could quell the rebellion. Then, early in August, he suddenly de­cided to return to Paris. Overnight everyone began hastily to pack, scores of coaches and wagons were mustered, and the mile-long cavalcade took the road to France.

It was a far from pleasant journey. The broiling sun on the roofs of the coaches made the interiors like ovens; and, in many places, owing to lack of habitable accommodation, their stifled occupants had to sleep in them. Daily couriers over­took them, with news of further French reverses. The sur­render at Baylen had injected into the Spaniards a positive conviction that only courage was needed to drive the French out of Spain.

In the north-east the hardy Catalans had risen and, by sheer audacity, forced the French to retire into the fortresses at Bar­celona and Figueras. In Aragon, Saragossa had become the scene of appalling slaughter, with ferocious street fighting, in which the French garrison was driven from house to house.

Joseph, now King of Spain, had arrived in his new capital a few days after Napoleon's departure. He remained there only a week. Fearing that a great body of insurgents which was marching on Madrid would capture it, he had fled with the army of which he was the titular Commander, north to the far side of the river Ebro. Savary had given up the line of the Upper Douro, and was fighting a rearguard action in an attempt to join up with Bessieres. Finally, to crown this tale of woe, when they reached Paris they learned that a British army under the command of Sir Arthur Wellesley, had landed in Portugal and was advancing on Lisbon.

As soon as the Court had settled into its quarters in the Palace of St. Cloud, Roger went to call on Talleyrand. The elegant Prince de Benevento had just finished entertaining some friends to an epicurean breakfast. When they had taken their leave, leaning on Roger's arm he led him into a small library, and the two old friends settled down to talk.

They had no secrets from each other. After Roger had given an abbreviated account of his doings in Turkey, Persia, Brazil and, finally, of his narrow escape from spending five years in a fortress, the great statesman laughed and said:

'That so resourceful a man as yourself should have been out­witted and kidnapped by your charmer I find most amusing; but your escape from the Emperor's wrath shows that your lucky star is still in the ascendant. You are lucky, too, to be out of Spain. From the reports I receive, I gather all hell has been let loose there.'

'It has, indeed, although our little man refuses to recognise it.'

'He has become the victim of folie de grandeur, and will no longer listen to anyone. By his treatment of the Spanish royal family at Bayonne, he signed away Spain. That was the match that lit the bonfire. They are, admittedly, the most miserable people; incompetent and cowardly to the last de­gree. But that does not alter the fact that they are venerated by the Spanish masses.'

'I am told that you had them for a while at your chateau of Valencay.'

'Yes, although Napoleon has lost his judgment he retains his cunning. He sent them to me in order to implicate me in his treatment of them; although, from the beginning, I have made it plain to him how strongly I disapprove of his inten­tions regarding Spain.'

'What of the rest of Europe?'

Talleyrand shrugged. 'He has sown the wind and will reap the whirlwind. Austria is again arming against us. The Arch­duke Charles and Prince Metternich are counselling caution; but others, who have the Emperor Francis' ear, are impatient for revenge. Prussia is seething with hatred for the humilia­tions we have put upon her; King Frederick William is a bro­ken reed; his Consort, Queen Louisa, a most gallant lady, but her influence is not strong enough to make her husband defy Napoleon. In Prussia, as in Spain, resistance will not come from the top, but from the people. Stein is busy modernising their Army; student bodies and the intellectuals are already openly urging the people to revolt. To all appearances our little man is now at the summit of his power; but it is only a matter of time before his ruthless ambition brings about his downfall.'

'How stand our relations with Russia?' Roger asked.

'That is difficult to answer. Outwardly there have been no signs of their deterioration since the pact made at Tilsit. But I have a feeling that, underneath, all is not well. Napoleon senses that, too, and is anxious to consolidate his relations with the Czar by another meeting. That was his reason for return­ing from Spain. Endeavours are being made to arrange one; but Alexander is averse to coming to Paris, and Napoleon will not go to Moscow. No doubt some neutral city will be chosen for a Conference. There Napoleon will produce his great plan for the aggrandisement of both Empires. It is that they should join forces, attack Turkey and divide the vast territories of the Sultan between them. The Czar is to have the Danubian lands, Bulgaria and all Turkey in Europe; while France takes Egypt and Turkey's dominions in Asia as a springboard to India.'

Roger smiled. T must congratulate Your Excellency upon your private intelligence service. It keeps you remarkably well informed about matters up to the latest moment.'

'No, no!' Talleyrand took a pinch of snuff. 'Napoleon sent for me last night, and himself told me his intentions.'

'Indeed!' Roger raised an eyebrow. 'But when on my tra­vels, I heard it said that you were no longer Foreign Minister.'

'True, dear friend; quite true. After Tilsit I decided to resign. I had become weary of giving advice that was not ac­cepted, and drawing up treaties of which I strongly disapproved —treaties which, in my view, must ultimately lead to the ruin of France. Napoleon was much annoyed, but could scarce ignore the many services I have rendered. As you must be aware, there were a very limited number of High Dignitaries created when our little man crowned himself Emperor. Joseph was made Grand Elector, and Louis High Constable. On my retirement, I was made Vice-Grand Elector, with equal status to the others, and an additional half-million francs a year revenue; so I did not do too badly. Our old enemy, Fouche, put about a rather delightful mot concerning my elevation. He said, "It is the only Vice that Talleyrand had not got".'

Roger roared with laughter. Then he said, 'Although you no longer hold the Foreign Office portfolio, apparently Napo­leon continues to consult you.'

'Yes. He gave the portfolio to Caulaincourt, a pleasant and quite able man. Yet, hate me though Napoleon now does, it seems that I have a strange fascination for him. He takes no step of importance without informing me of it, and asking my opinion, even though he frequently rejects it.'

*You will, then, be attending this forthcoming conference?'

'Almost certainly.' After a moment Talleyrand gave a cyn­ical smile and added, 'There I may find an opportunity to send Alexander away more dissatisfied than ever at having entered into an alliance with us. As long as Napoleon can count on Russia to menace Austria, his position remains compara­tively strong; but, should the Czar break with him, that could bring about his fall. And you and I agreed at Warsaw that that has become necessary as the only means of restoring peace and prosperity to Europe.'

Roger nodded. 'Somehow it must be done. But I have not yet congratulated your Exalted Highness on having been made Vice-Grand Elector. I do so on two counts. Firstly, in that this honour places you on an equal footing with the Bonaparte Princes. Secondly, on having resigned your office when you did. Now, when the Empire does collapse, and others scuttle from the sinking ship, no-one will be able to accuse you of having waited to leave it with the rats.'

Early in September still worse news came in from the Pen­insula, which was now the focus of all eyes. Wellesley had driven the French vanguard from Rolica; then, on the 24th August, he had met Junot's main force at Vimiero and in­flicted a crushing defeat upon it. Junot's whole army would have been cut off from Torres Vedras, but for the fact that an officer senior to Wellesley, General Sir Harry Burrard, arrived just at that moment, took over command and, most idiotically, called off the pursuit.

Shortly afterwards the hopeless idiocy of Britain's old-fashioned senior Generals was further manifested. Burrard was superseded by Sir Hew Dalrymple. Instead of demanding the surrender of Junot's defeated army, he entered into a pact with Junot at Cintra. By it Junot and all his troops were to be sent back to France in British ships.

Napoleon, angry as he was at Junot's defeat, got back many thousands of troops who would otherwise have remained pri­soners in Portugal. With a sour laugh he declared, 'How fortunate I am in having British generals fighting my wars for me.'

The unfortunate Dupont and his principal commanders had also been released by the Spaniards and returned to France. Upon them, for their surrender at Baylen, the Emperor vented his wrath, consigning all of them to prison.

Meanwhile, it had been agreed that Alexander and Napo­leon should meet at Erfurt, a town in Thuringia some sixty-five miles south-west of Leipzig.

By mid-September, when the Court was about to set out, Lisala was expecting her baby in from six to eight weeks. For some time past, Roger had been treating her with the utmost tenderness; and waiting anxiously for her delivery, hoping that she would bear him a son. As Erfurt meant a journey of three hundred and sixty miles, he was most averse to her un­dertaking it. But she had been greatly enjoying herself in Paris, and was most loath both to being left alone while the Court was in Germany, and missing the many splendid entertain­ments which would take place at the conference. It was un­likely that the conference would last more than a fortnight; so she argued that they should be back in Paris at the latest within five weeks. In consequence, Roger reluctantly agreed to her setting out with the Empress and the Court officials who were to make the journey in moderately easy stages.

Several days later, Napoleon, who always travelled at great speed, followed, accompanied by his staff. To salvoes of can­non they entered Erfurt on September 26th. The Empress had arrived there that morning. From the Quartermaster, who had taken over the Town Hall, Roger learned that he and Lisala had been billeted not far from the centre of the town, at the house of a notary named Gunther. Eager to see Lisala, he went there at once.

No sooner had he made himself known to the notary's wife than she exclaimed, 'Colonel, we are in a great taking here. The long journey had most unfortunate results on your lady. When she arrived this morning, she was already in labour. I understand that her accouchement was not due for some weeks yet. But an hour ago she gave premature birth to your child.'

'My wife?' he asked swiftly. 'Is she all right?'

Tes, yes I' the woman assured him. 'We called our doctor. A good man. Her delivery was quite normal.'

Brushing past her, Roger ran up the stairs three at a time. Behind a slightly-opened door on the landing he heard a faint mewling. Thrusting the door wide open, he strode into the room.

Lisala's nurse, old Josefa Bilboa, was sitting there in an easy chair, gently rocking a bundle on her lap. As she saw Roger, her dark eyes widened with fear.

'Is it a boy?' Roger asked eagerly.

The old woman nodded. 'Yes, Senhor, but. . .'

Advancing on her, Roger smiled and said, 'Let me see him. Let me see my son.'

Josefa shrank back, pressing the bundle to her flaccid bosom as she whispered, 'Senhor, be merciful. This . . . this will be a shock to you.'

Roger frowned. 'Do you mean that the child is malformed?'

'No, Senhor, no! But... but...'

Stretching out a hand, Roger pulled the swaddling clothes aside and gazed, horror-struck, at the infant.

It had curly red hair; its nose was flattened and its lips were thick; its skin was brown; beyond all doubt, it was the child of a Negro.

Surprise at Erfurt

Utterly aghast, Roger stared down at the small, dark, wizened creature. Never before in his life had his mind been so para­lysed by shock. Momentarily his numbed brain suggested to him that he was the victim of a nightmare. He was brought back to awful reality by the sound of footsteps behind him. Swinging round, he saw that Frau Gunther had followed him into the room.

Wildly he sought some explanation that he could give of this scandalous event, which could not be concealed and must soon become the talk of the town, bringing disgrace upon Lisala and making him the laughing stock of everyone he knew. His normally swift reaction to unexpected situations suddenly returned to him. White-faced, he confronted the woman and said:

'Meine Frau, I beg your indulgence in that my wife's de­livery should have occurred in your house, causing you much inconvenience. Aware of the terrible experience that befell her before she left Brazil, I had intended to take her to some secluded house, where she could have her unwanted child. But her giving birth prematurely has defeated my intentions. While in Rio de Janeiro, my wife was raped by a Negro slave.'

The portly Frau Gunther nodded sympathetically. 'I felt sure, Herr Oberst, that there must be some such explanation. It makes me shudder to think of what the poor lady must have suffered. But please be assured that my husband and I will do everything possible for her comfort and yours.' Pointing to a door behind him, she added, 'Would you now like to go in and see your wife?'

Feeling that he must have time to think before deciding what to do about Lisala, Roger replied, 'No. Her delivery having been so recent, it is essential that she should remain undisturbed. I feel, too, that for some nights at least it would be detrimental to my wife if I shared her bed; and my servant will shortly arrive with my baggage. Could you provide me with another room?'

'I can if the Herr Oberst would not mind a small one on the top floor of the house.'

Roger raised a smile. 'As a soldier, I consider myself lucky when I have a roof over my head. You will forgive me if I leave you now. I have urgent work to do at headquarters.'

With a bow to Frau Gunther, he stepped past her and stumped down the stairs. Turning into a high-walled alley that ran alongside the house, he paced up and down for half an hour, thinking furiously. He did not believe for one mo­ment that Lisala had been raped; but his story that she had would at least protect him from the degradation of being secretly mocked as a cuckold, and should gain sympathy for her rather than opprobrium.

Deciding that it was better that he should himself announce the awful event, rather than let it reach the Court by way of gossip spread by the Gunther household and the doctor who had delivered Lisala, he went to the mansion which had been taken over for Napoleon, and requested an audience with the Empress.

Half an hour later she was condoling with him on his mis­fortune. When a girl in Martinique, she had heard of occa­sional cases in which Negro slaves had gone mad and raped white women, so she accepted Roger's story without ques­tion. He said that Lisala would, of course, resign her appoint­ment and, as soon as she was sufficiently recovered, he intended to send her back to Paris. Josephine, who was the most kind-hearted of women, replied:

'If that is her wish, I will not oppose it; but it would be said that I had dismissed her, so imply that she is guilty of a crime and lead to her being ostracised by society. It would be most cruel to inflict further suffering on her after the terrible experience she has been through. By showing special warmth towards her when she reappears at Court, I can ensure that no malicious person dare cause her embarrassment.'

Having thanked Josephine for her generous attitude, Roger went out to prowl the streets, but found that, to walk unim­peded through the narrow ways overhung by the upper storeys of the old, timbered houses, was next to impossible. French and Russian officers, Hussars, Chasseurs, Cossacks and Artil­lerymen jostled the gaping town-folk, while coaches and car­riages, occupied by notables, frequently blocked the way. The inns were equally crowded, and there seemed no place in which he could think out quietly what he should do about Lisala. In desperation, he returned to his billet.

There Herr and Frau Gunther asked him to honour them by supping with them. Feeling churlish but quite incapable of making polite conversation, he refused, sent his servant out for a couple of bottles of wine, and went up to his room. During the next two hours he drank the wine, but it did not make him even mildly drunk and, when he went to bed, he had formed only one decision. He must rid himself of Lisala as soon as possible.

Next morning he left the house early and, somehow, got through his dudes. Then, unwilling to talk with his brother officers, he ate a meal at an inn, but found difficulty in swal­lowing. Feeling that he could no longer put off the interview from which his whole being shrank, he went to his billet. No-one was about, so he walked straight upstairs to the room in which he had seen the infant. A cradle had been procured, and old Josefa sat there, rocking it. Without giving her a glance, he crossed the room and pushed open the far door.

Lisala was sitting up in bed. As is so often the case with women soon after their delivery, she had never looked lovelier. Her cheeks were a little pale, her splendid, wide-spaced eyes glowing with health, and her milk-filled breasts showed clearly through a nightdress of gossamer-thin muslin. As he entered the room, her lips parted, showing her perfect teeth, in a smi­ling greeting.

Grim-faced, he stood at the end of her bed and demanded harshly, 'Well, Madame; what have you to say?'

She shrugged. 'Only that I regret that the child is not yours. I could not be certain, and hoped up to the last moment that it would be.'

‘Who is its father?'

'Why, Baob, of course.'

'I suspected as much. And that this was no case of rape, otherwise you would have told me of it. You admit then, that you willingly gave yourself to a Negro?'

'He was an African Prince.'

'Prince, be damned! He was a Negro slave.'

Lisala's eyes flashed. 'He proved a better lover than you.'

'Maybe. I am not accustomed to competing with black giants. But how could you possibly have brought yourself to submit to this abomination?'

'I did not submit. He would never have dared lay a finger on me had I not encouraged him by allowing him one hot after­noon to see me naked, then lain down on my bed and beckoned to him.'

Roger gave a gasp. 'My God! Such conduct is utterly ini­quitous.'

'It is not when one feels a great urge to be made love to, and a stalwart man is readily available.'

'Lisala, we all feel such urges from time to time. But ordin­ary decency demands control. For a woman of your birth to give herself to the first man who comes along is positively out­rageous.'

She sighed. 'It may be so for some people, but is not in my case. You have never understood me. From the age of thir­teen I craved for such sensations. Knowing nothing of men at that time I satisfied these sensations every night myself. Then in Tehran my Russian Prince came along and taught me the full joy of being possessed. For a few months after he left I was driven nearly crazy with desire. You arrived and, you will recall, at the first opportunity I positively flung myself at you. In you I found something more than physical satis­faction. You are handsome, courageous and fascinating to talk to. But such attributes weigh only when I am with you. On the long voyage we made from the Persian Gulf and up the Red Sea, I took the First Officer of the ship as my lover. While crossing the Mediterranean, a young super-cargo ful­filled my needs. Then came that ghastly crossing of the Atlan­tic, when we were daily together, yet could never be alone. During that time I nearly died of frustration. In Rio we again enjoyed a brief intimacy. Alas, my father put an end to that. When he had forced you from the house, what was I to do? To meet you in secret or, in that rigid society, secure one of my father's friends as my lover, proved impossible. What does a black skin matter, provided the man be vigorous? Baob meant nothing to me. When you killed him I felt not a qualm; but those afternoons when he ferociously enjoyed me gave me peaceful sleep at nights.'

Appalled, Roger stared at her, then he asked bitterly, 'And after I left you in Portugal, during the time I was in Madrid, whom did you pick on to satisfy your insatiable lust?'

She smiled serenely. 'Junot. He is something of a block­head, but passable to go to bed with.'

For a minute Roger remained silent, considering the situa­tion. Lisala's admission that she had had an affaire with Junot touched him in a very soft spot. He was well aware that Napo­leon's Generals and their wives were an immoral crew. When away in distant commands, the men invariably took mistresses, and their wives, left as grass widows in Paris for many months, frequently took handsome young officers as their lovers. But he was not prepared to have it said that, during his absences, his wife was easy game for any man who wanted to jump into bed with her.

If he accepted Josephine's generous gesture, and Lisala re­mained one of her ladies, that would inevitably happen. Better to cut the knot now, whatever people might think or say. In the circumstances, her retirement could be put down to re­luctance to continue at Court, with everyone aware of her mis­fortune. Within a few weeks the whole matter would be forgotten. So he said:

'I have heard of other cases in which women's bodies rule their minds to the exclusion of all decency. But I am not the man to continue with a wife who will become known as the Court whore. When you are well enough, Madame, you will seek an audience with the Empress, tell her that your misfor­tune causes you such embarrassment that you cannot any lon­ger bring yourself to remain in her service. I'll then send you back to Paris and later, if conditions permit, to Portugal.'

With a complacent shrug, Lisala replied, 'Oh no, my dear husband, you will not do that.' As she spoke, she picked up a letter from her bedside table, and went on, 'This morning I received this from the Empress. She assumes that I was raped, condoles with me upon my terrible experience, and assures me that she will show her extreme displeasure to any­one who assails my reputation on account of my having given birth to a black baby. I have never enjoyed myself more than while being a member of the Court, and I receive special pres­tige as the wife of le brave Breuc; so disabuse yourself of any idea of sending me away. Here I intend to remain.'

'In that you are mistaken, Madame,' Roger said firmly. 'You will render thanks to the Empress for her kindness, then go. Even the Emperor cannot intervene between husband and wife. A husband's decision is law, and I intend to send you away.'

Lisala's smile was seraphic as she replied, 'I do not think you will—Mr. Brook.'

Roger's heart missed a beat. He had temporarily forgotten that she was aware of his true identity. If she denounced him, it would be only her word against his. But some people might believe her, and that could seriously weaken his position. How big a hold she had on him he did not realise until she went on:

'When you were first in Lisbon, you lived there under your true colours—hobnobbing with Lord Strangford at the British Embassy, and going off to consult with Admiral Sir Smith in his ship. In Brazil, too, you were known to scores of the nobility there as an Englishman. Above all, there were those weeks we spent in England. I can give chapter and verse about your house at Richmond, your friends, your club and your meeting with Mr. Canning. It may take time for the French to check the information I give them; but they have their spies as well. And, once they know you definitely to have been work­ing with their enemies, they will have you shot.'

Forcing a casual indifference, Roger said, 'You overrate your powers, Madame. The French have long believed me to be a Frenchman with English connections, which enables me to pass as one and spy for them. It would take more than a few trumped-up charges by a disgruntled wife to make them be­lieve otherwise.'

Yet, even as he spoke, he knew that he could not afford to have such well-supported suspicion cast on him. To court that was too dangerous. He dared not risk it. So he resumed icily:

'Your excessive lust may be due to causes beyond your con­trol. But to threaten with such perfidy one whom you have professed to love is inexcusable. Making such accusations as you suggest could, I admit, be used by my enemies and put me to considerable inconvenience to refute. Therefore, for the present, I agree to continue to regard you publicly as my wife. Apart from that, everything is over between us. Now, what of the child?'

Lisala shrugged. 'Do with it as you will. I was shown it shortly after it was born, and never wish to see it again. That is why I sent Josef a out with it to the ante-room. I'll not have it in here, far less suckle it.'

'It is in keeping with your character as recently revealed that you should lack all maternal feeling,* he said acidly. 'But, in the circumstances, I welcome your decision. The sooner I can get it away from here, the less talk there will be about it.' With a curt bow, he turned and strode from the room.

Going downstairs, he sought the help of Herr and Frau Gunther. They were a pleasant, elderly couple, and tactfully conveyed to him that, immediately after the birth of the infant, they had realised that it was not a matter to be bruited abroad. They had, therefore, enjoined silence on their servants, and told Roger that the discretion of their doctor, who had de­livered Lisala, could also be relied on.

He thanked them warmly, then asked Frau Gunther if she could find a wet-nurse for the child—preferably some farm labourer's wife who lived outside the town. She said that some might object to suckling a coloured baby, but when he told her that money was no object, she agreed to do her best. Meanwhile Josefa would continue to feed the baby with spoonfuls of fresh cow's milk.

By the following day the conference had got into full swing. On the surface all was amity. The two Emperors rode out together, exchanging smiles and compliments. French and Rus­sian Marshals and Generals entertained one another with great cordiality. Bands played daily in the park. Minor Kings, Grand Dukes and Princes, with their retinues, patiently waited their rum to pay scrupulously equal homage to the Emperor and the Czar. The ladies from Paris and St. Petersburg competed in the splendour of their toilettes and displays of fabulous jewels. Beside them the poor German women looked frumpish and their principal royalty, Frederick William of Prussia, al­though a third party to the alliance, was barely acknowledged by the Caesars of the North and West. The days were given to meetings; private conversations between the two Emperors in the mornings and discussion round a great table by Ministers and Marshals in the afternoons.

In the evenings all was gaiety. From Paris Napoleon had brought the actors of the Comedie Francaise to perform Vol­taire's plays. On other nights they enjoyed favourite operas, or attended brilliant receptions, followed by balls. In addition to statesmen and soldiers, many distinguished scientists and literary men were present, Goethe among them, who smilingly received the Legion d'Honneur from Napoleon's hands.

But, beneath it all, those in the know were aware that the enthusiasm for the alliance achieved at Tilsit was lacking. Then it had been agreed that Alexander should withdraw his troops from the Danubian provinces and Napoleon evacuate Silesia; but neither had done so. The Czar, too, was chagrined that Napoleon demanded from Prussia an indemnity which it was impossible for her to pay, and as a surtax, still retained gar­risons in the fortresses of Stettin, Glogau and Kustrin, which menaced Russia's frontier.

The revolt in Spain had great weakened Napoleon's hand. Portugal was now occupied by a British army and, although Junot's troops were being repatriated, a considerable force had been lost to France. Earlier, when King Carlos had cringed before Napoleon, in addition to paying a huge subsidy, he had agreed to send fifteen thousand of Spain's finest troops to assist in garrisoning Hanover. Inflamed by the news of the rebel­lion in their own country, they had become anxious to return to it. Their Commanders had succeeded in getting secretly in touch with Canning, who had sent a squadron to the Baltic, taken the Spanish Corps aboard and repatriated them, thus greatly strengthening the insurgents.

The escape of this contingent was a severe blow to Napo­leon's hold on North Germany, and the success of the rebel­lion by the Spanish people had enormously encouraged those Germans who were secretly planning to throw off the yoke of the French.

In the previous year Frederick of Prussia had given his Minister Hcinrich Stein virtually the powers of a civil dicta­tor. Stein had then revolutionised his country's political system, by bringing in most drastic reforms. He had abolished serf­dom, admitted all classes to the ownership of land, and im­bued municipal Governments with new vitality. This had re­sulted in the masses now feeling that they had a real stake in their country's future. Meanwhile, his colleague Scharnhorst, at the Ministry of War, had conceived the new idea that in peace time all able-bodied men should serve for a period in the Army, then become available as reserves. Foreseeing danger to himself in this, Napoleon had forced Frederick William to sign a treaty agreeing that the Prussian Army should never exceed forty-two thousand men; but this failed to invalidate the fact that Prussia was steadily building up a great reserve of men trained to arms.

Napoleon, continuing to discount the war in the Peninsula and the ominous rumblings now coming from Germany, was still obsessed with his dreams of conquering the East and sought to woo Alexander by a glamorous prospect of adding Turkey's European dominions to the Imperial Russian Crown; but they failed to agree on the thorny subject of Constantinople.

The Czar desired to turn the Black Sea into a Russian lake, with an exit through the Dardanelles to the Mediterranean. The Emperor could not bring himself to allow another Great Power to occupy the Porte and Narrows, lest later it might menace his operations in Asia.

. Meanwhile, Frau Gunther had secured a wet-nurse for the Negro infant, and Josefa had gone with it to live in a farm­stead outside the town. In answer to the enquiries of his friends about his wife's accouchement, Roger gave this information while, naturally, refraining from mentioning the baby's colour. Somewhat to his surprise and much to his relief, the discretion shown by the Gunthers appeared to have proved effective. Two people casually mentioned to him that a lady in the town was said to have given birth to the child of a Negro, but it was obvious that neither connected this scandal with Lisala. It therefore seemed that, after all, he need not have disclosed the affair to Josephine; but he was not to know at the time that gossip would not swiftly inform her of it, and he had al­ways held that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Being young and healthy, Lisala made a speedy recovery and, greatly annoyed at having already missed several splendid entertainments, on the fifth night she insisted on attending a ball given by the Czar. When they were presented, Roger felt certain that Alexander would recognise him, so having bowed low, he said:

'I am happy, Sire, to have this opportunity of again thank­ing Your Imperial Majesty for arranging my exchange last year.'

Alexander smiled and replied, 'On two occasions while you were a prisoner, Colonel, I found your conversation most in­teresting. We must talk again. At a convenient time I will send one of my officers to request your attendance on me.'

As they entered the ballroom, Roger began to point out to Lisala numerous people of interest, among them Count Haugwitz. He was the pro-French statesman whom Napoleon had forced King Frederick to make his Prime Minister, after the defeat of Prussia, instead of the pro-English Count Hardenberg. Talking to him were a slightly taller man and a dark-haired woman with a voluptuous figure. The couple had their backs to Roger but, as though impelled by an impulse, the woman suddenly turned right round. At the same moment Roger took a quick step towards her. Their eyes met, and both gave a cry of delight. She was his beloved Georgina.

Introductions followed. Georgina had not heard that Roger had remarried. After a swift appraisement of Lisala, she smi­lingly congratulated him on the peerless beauty of his new wife. Roger had met the Prussian Prime Minister's cousin, Baron Haugwitz, once before, at the Tuileries toward the end of '99. The Baron had then just been transferred from Am­bassador to the Court of St. James to that of Napoleon who was at that time still First Consul. It was Haugwitz who had told Roger that when he had left London, Georgina had been reported desperately ill and so led to Roger's returning to England in record time. But neither had been aware that the other was in love with her.

Soon afterwards Haugwitz presented Lisala and Roger to Louisa, the beautiful and courageous Queen of Prussia who, while her craven husband sullenly submitted to Napoleon's bullying, was fighting the Emperor tooth and nail, in an en­deavour to make him reduce the taxation which was ruining her people, and give up the important fortress of Magdeburg.

Later, Georgina and Roger twice waltzed together. Dances were too brief for them to exchange detailed confidences; but the bond between them which had existed since their teens, was as strong as ever. They had not taken three turns in their first waltz before both said simultaneously, 'You are not happy.'

They laughed at this evidence of their life-long rapport. Then Georgina went on, 'She is so superb a creature that I do not wonder you fell in love with her. But those splendid eyes of hers are too far apart for a normal mind to lie behind them, and about her I sensed an aura of evil.'

Roger had many times had evidence of the psychic per­ception which Georgina had inherited from her gipsy mother, so her statement did not surprise him. 'You are right,' he agreed. 'And what of your Baron? He's a devilish handsome fellow, and has both charm and intellect. In what way do you find him unsatisfactory?'

'He was charming enough when in England,' she replied. 'But, like all Germans, he is harsh and dictatorial at home. Still, he is no more tiresome to live with than was my first husband Humphrey Etheredge.'

'How is young Charles ?' Roger asked.

She hesitated a moment. 'I could not have a more loving son, and he is growing into a fine youth. But he does not like living in Germany, and he misses the companionship of your litde Susan terribly, as indeed do I.'

During their second dance, he twitted her. 'You always vowed that you would be a Duchess before your hair turned grey. But now you have taken a step down, from Countess of St. Ermins to be a German Baroness.'

She winked a naughty eye and whispered, 'For your ear alone, dear heart, I at least recently achieved an Archduke as a lover.' Throwing back their heads, they both laughed up­roariously.

Before the dance finished, she said earnestly, ' Tis all too long since we have seen anything of each other. And I am con­fronted with a problem that I need to talk to you about. As soon as the conference ends, please bring your wife to stay at my new home, Schloss Langenstien, near Bingen. This is im­portant to me, my love, very important. So you must come. You must.'

'Of course I will come,' he assured her immediately. 'And I would that I could come alone. But that is not possible. As things are I'd be grateful if you would give Lisala and me separate rooms.'

She made a little grimace. 'So things are already come to such a sorry pass with you. 'Tis so also with myself. Ulrich and I now sleep apart.'

Giving her a wicked grin, Roger murmured, 'That being so, most beloved of beloveds, perhaps...'

Georgina made a movement of her full red lips, as though blowing him a kiss, and whispered, 'The vintage will be over, but for you I shall ever be as a ripe grape ready to fall.'

The ball went on until three o'clock in the morning. Cap­tains and Kings, Russian Grand Duchesses and beautiful pro­stitutes who had become the wives of the gallant warriors of the French Empire, Germans, Poles and Danes, mingled to­gether, laughed, flirted outrageously and quaffed glass after glass of champagne. At length, many of them far from steady on their feet, they began to drift away. Lisala had naturally refrained from dancing; but had enjoyed herself enormously, having spent the evening surrounded with a succession of hand­some officers eager to talk to her. And Josephine had beckoned her over, and had spoken to her with great kindness.

When Roger escorted her home, he felt a new man. His de­pression and gloom about the future had been banished as by the wave of a fairy's wand. His brief encounter with the love of his life had restored him, as nothing else could have done, to his old optimistic, confident self.

A few days later he went out to sec Josefa. He told her that he had arranged for her to travel back to Paris at the end of the month with one of the last convoys conveying the Gobelin tapestries and other rich embellishments the Emperor had sent to add lustre to his presence at the conference. He then gave her gold and a letter to his old and trusted friend Maitre Blanchard at La Belle Etoile, in the Rue St. Honore, telling her that the innkeeper and his wife would take good care of her and the infant until she received further instructions from him.

The conference continued for a further ten days. During this time the two couples met again nearly every evening, either at receptions, the theatre or at balls; but it was only at the lat­ter that Roger was able to hold brief private conversations with Georgina. Ulrich von Haugwitz did not attempt to con­ceal the fact that he found Lisala most attractive, and he had heartily endorsed Georgina's invitation that the de Breucs should spend some days at Schloss Langenstein when the con­ference was over. But there was one aspect of the visit which had given Roger cause for thought, and during a dance he raised it with Georgina.

'I have been thinking,' he said, 'about young Charles. Your husband and everyone here believe me to be a Frenchman; but the boy can have no suspicion of the double life I lead. When I arrive at the Schloss, all the odds are that he will rush to embrace me, and that would put the fat in the fire with a vengeance.'

Georgina thought for a moment, then said, 'You are right, so you must not travel with us, but arrive a day or two later, so that I shall have time to wam him. He is now twelve, a sen­sible lad and entirely to be trusted. It could be said, too, that while you were in England on your mission for Napoleon in '99, I invited you, as I often did foreign Ambassadors, down to stay at Stillwaters. Then, should Charles make some slip, that would explain away your knowing the house and his hav­ing as a child seen you there.'

It was on the last day of the conference that the Czar sent for Roger. He was seated at ease in a small room with his friend and adviser, Prince Adam Czartoryski. When the equerry who had presented Roger had withdrawn, Alexander smiled and said:

'Monsieur le Colonel... or should I say Mr. Brook, when last we met Russia was at war with France, and it was under­stood that, if I arranged your exchange, you would do your utmost to supply me with useful information.'

Roger bowed. 'I was eager to do so, Sire; but was deprived of the opportunity.'

'So I have been informed. You were sent with General Gardane's mission to Turkey and Persia, were you not? So I do not hold against you your failure to keep your word. However, I should like to hear your views on the present situation.'

For some five minutes Roger held forth on the war being waged in the Peninsula and the unrest in Germany. Finally, he said:

'The Emperor is still wielding immense power and re­sources. Does he turn his will to it, I believe him capable of subduing Spain and throwing the English out of Portugal. In Germany, as long as he holds the principal fortresses, little can be done against him. But of his eventual fall I am convinced. It will be brought about by the leading men among his own people. They have come to realise that his wars are no longer in defence of France, but to satisfy his own insane ambitions. He is bleeding France to death, and at the first favourable opportuniry, to save their country, many of those whom he has raised up will turn upon him.'

The Czar and Prince Adam exchanged a smile, then the latter said:

'This we have learned, and from a very high authority. One such said to His Imperial Majesty only the other day, "Sire, what are you coming here for? It is for you to save Europe, and you will only succeed in that by resisting Napoleon. The French are civilised, their sovereign is not. The Sovereign of Russia is civilised, her people are not. Therefore the Sovereign of Russia must be the ally of the French people."'

Roger smiled. 'I would stake my life that I could name the man who said that. It was the Prince dc Benevento.'

'Why should you suppose so?' Alexander asked coldly.

'Because, Sire, every word has the ring of Talleyrand. He has been my close friend for over twenty years. He knows as you do that I am, in fact, an Englishman. We have worked together ceaselessly, although so far without avail, to bring about peace between our two countries, so that this bloodshed may end and the nations of Europe again enjoy security and prosperity.'

Alexander raised his eyebrows. 'Then, Mr. Brook, you are an even more remarkable man than I had supposed, and can be of great service to us. Policy dictates that we should renew our treaty with the Emperor, but we shall not pay more than lip service to it. Talleyrand has seen to that, and Napoleon must indeed have become insane to have put him in charge of negotiations here, instead of relying on his Foreign Minister.'

'I was not aware that he had, Sire,' Roger admitted, 'as I have had no private conversation with the Prince since we arrived in Erfurt. But 'tis said, "those whom the gods seek to destroy they first make mad", and that is the case with Napo­leon.'

Rising to terminate the interview, the Czar extended his hand for Roger to kiss and said, 'Mr. Brook, we know you to be our friend, and any service you can render us will not go unrewarded.'

Next day, October 12th, the new treaty was signed. An hour later, Roger sought an interview with the Emperor and asked for leave.

Before he could say more, Napoleon rounded on him and snapped, 'What! And after you have been back in my service for no more than three months? I suppose on account of your weak chest you wish again to idle the winter away in sunshine at that little chateau of yours in the South of France? But I will provide you with ample sunshine. I intend to go to Spain and teach those Spanish curs a lesson they will not soon forget. You speak many languages, have travelled far, and possess a knowledge of affairs greatly exceeding that of the majority of my beaux sabreurs. I can find many uses for you, so I mean to take you to Spain with me.'

Roger smiled. 'Sire, you flatter me; but you did not hear me out. I meant only to ask permission to spend a few days with Baron von Haugwitz and his wife at their castle on the Rhine.'

'Ah! That is another matter. Go then; but rejoin me in Paris before the end of the month.'

Next day the conference began to break up, with more sal­voes of cannon and fanfares of trumpets. Roger was present when Queen Louisa went out to her coach. At a private dinner with her husband, Josephine and Napoleon, she had pleaded eloquently with the latter to return Magdeburg to Prussia. Having made her an evasive answer, he had taken a rose from a vase on the table and handed it to her. Those who knew him realised that the gesture had been inspired only by his invari­able gentleness towards women; but she had taken it as a de­liberate indication that he did not regard women as qualified to discuss affairs of State.

Immersed as ever in his own urgent business he did not pay her the courtesy of coming to see her off. It was Talleyrand who limped forward and offered her his arm, condoled with her for a while on her failure to help her country, then handed her into her coach. Afterwards she recorded:

'I was astonished beyond belief that this renegade priest, whom I had always thought of as the most evil, depraved and treacherous man of his time, should have been the only one to show me sympathy and understanding during the conference at Erfurt.'

The Haugwitzes left on the same day. Having noticed that Gunther's study had only a small bookcase and that several score of law books were in piles on the floor, Roger went out and bought for him the finest bookcase he could find in the town, and expensive presents for Frau Gum her and the doctor who had delivered Lisala. These simple, kindly Germans re­ceived them with surprise and gratitude; but he assured them that he could not sufficiently repay the care they had given to his wife. Next morning he and Lisala set out for Schloss Langenstein.

The journey was something under two hundred miles, so could be done comfortably by coach in four days. Lisala took with her in the coach a young girl named Gretchcn, whom Frau Gunther had procured for her as a maid, after Josefa had moved out to the farm with the Negro baby. Roger rode beside the coach, and his soldier-servant, Francois, behind him.

During the conference, husband and wife had exchanged barely a word, except during the evenings when they were with other people. But now that they were alone, he had to make up his mind how he should treat her. Although he was determined to reject any overtures she might make towards resuming their former intimacy, he decided that it would cause great awkwardness at the inns if they did not at least appear to be on good terms; so, when they halted at the wayside for their first picnic lunch, he said:

'Lisala, what has happened cannot be undone. During the times we spent together in Isfahan, Lisbon, Rio and Madrid, I was many times perturbed by the violence of your temper and your extreme selfishness; but my passion for you was such that I made allowances for the unattractive side of your mind, believing it to be beyond the power of your will to control.

'But the day after we reached Erfurt you revealed to me your true nature, even glorying in the fact that you are governed entirely by your baser instincts. That destroyed my love and any latent affection I might feel for you. However, since we are to remain together, it would only be a continual harassment to us both did we do so in a state of enmity. There­fore, I propose henceforth to treat you as I would a sister or cousin, with whom circumstances had made it necessary for me to share a home.'

She shrugged her fine shoulders. 'That suits me well enough. It was your personality that made you more attractive to me than other men, and I greatly enjoyed our early intimacy. But since you returned to the service of the Emperor, your work has absorbed you to a degree that makes you a poor hus­band. My only interest now is to retain the status that being your wife gives me, and my position as one of the Empress' ladies. I have only to lift my finger, and I could secure more lovers than I would have the time to pleasure.'

'That I do not doubt,' he retorted tartly. 'And, your nature being what it is, I am not fool enough to expect you to remain chaste. But I now give you fair warning. Not only must you be discreet about your affaires, you must also impress the necessity of discretion upon any lover you may take. Should one of them be rash enough to boast that he has had you, I'll call him out and kill him. I will then kill you.'

He knew he would never carry out the last part of his threat, but it had its effect. She paled, cast down her eyes and mur­mured, 'It has not escaped me that you, too, have a ruthless streak, and are an ill man to cross. So be it then. I will take great care not to provoke a scandal.'

Neither of them had ever lacked subjects of interest to talk about; so, at the inns where they took their evening meals, any casual observer would have put them down as a long-married couple upon good terms with each other. But Roger always asked for a separate room, on the pretext that he suf­fered from insomnia, spent half the night reading, and was loath to keep his wife awake. On the afternoon of Wednesday, October 20th, they reached Schloss Langenstein.

It dated from medieval times: a rambling, irregular pile, surmounted by a tall tower and perched upon a rocky emin­ence overlooking a bend in the broad river. The coach had been sighted while slowly climbing the zigzag road that led up to it, so the von Haugwitzes were at the great wooden, iron-studded door to welcome their visitors. Young Charles, now a handsome, well-grown lad, with his mother's dark, curly hair and his father's blue eyes, stood beside them.

Roger felt a momentary alarm as the boy's eyes lit up at the sight of him; but he was reassured when Charles looked away as though indifferent about the new arrivals, and began to pat the head of a wolfhound standing nearby. When the elders had exchanged greetings, Georgina said to him:

'Charles, you remember Monsieur de Breuc, who came to stay with us for a few nights at Sullwaters, years ago when he was on a mission to London ?'

'Yes, Mama,' the boy replied in French. Smiling, he held out his hand to Roger, and added, 'But not very well, for I was then very young.'

The visitors were shown to their rooms, and Roger noted with satisfaction that his was in a different wing from Lisala's; for, in spite of their conversation four days earlier, he had thought it just possible that, if she felt the urge, she might pay him a midnight visit and try her wiles upon him.

Ulrich von Haugwitz proved an excellent host, and Geor­gina had done many small things to dispel the grim atmosphere of the old castle, so that the rooms had at least something of the atmosphere of an English country house.

The evening meal was admirable: freshly-caught Rhine trout, roebuck, and sweet, white grapes which had been kept on ice since the recent vintage. The wines were superb, end­ing with a Hock of twenty years from the Baron's Kabinett reserve, grown on his own estate.

Charles had been allowed to stay up for the meal, but was sent off to bed as soon as it was over. Roger saw with pleasure that the Baron showed a great affection for the boy, rumpling his hair and kissing him on both cheeks, as though he were actually his father.

Afterwards they spent an hour or so talking about the con­ference; then, as the visitors had had a long day travelling, they went to bed. Roger felt no inclination to sleep, as he was hoping that when the Castle was wrapped in slumber, Georgina would come to him; so by candlelight he re-read Voltaire's Candide, which was among the books beside his bed.

Soon after midnight, his hopes were realised. The door opened quietly, and Georgina slipped into the room. He greeted her with a smile, but she ignored it, threw off the cham­ber robe she was wearing, blew out the candles and, without a word, slid into bed beside him.

Clasping her warm body to him with a joyous laugh, so that her fine breasts flattened against his broad chest, he sought her mouth for their first kiss. But, to his astonishment, she turned her face away, then burst into tears.

Her arms round his neck, she clutched him with sudden fierceness, and sobbed, 'Roger! Thank God you are come. I need your help. I need it most desperately.'

Roger to the Rescue

Several minutes passed before Roger succeeded in quietening Georgina's wild outburst of distress. Having sought to soothe her, he at length took her by the shoulders and shook her, as he said tersely:

'Georgina! Cease behaving like an hysterical girl. What­ever trouble you are in, I'll get you out of it. You must know that. We have been like father, mother, brother and sister to each other, as well as lovers, ever since we were children. I would give my life for you any day. For God's sake, tell me what causes you such grief, so that I may provide a remedy for it.'

Her sobs lessened, and she moaned, 'It is Ulrich. His be­haviour revolts and horrifies me.'

'Why? Is he a sadist and brutal to you?'

'No; he has always treated me with consideration, and is proud to have me for his wife.'

'What then?'

'He is heterosexual. He enjoys women, but also boys. He orders the stable lads to his bed. Such practices have always revolted me. It was when I first found that out that I re­fused ever again to sleep with him, and demanded a room of my own.'

Roger considered for a moment, then he said, 'It is known that the Greek vice has now become a German one. Your re­vulsion I understand, but why the terrible distress? Does it stem from the fact that you love him, so are jealous of his com­plaisant sodomites, and yearn to have him back to make love only to you?'

'No, no,' Georgina whimpered. ' 'Tis not that. Such attraction as he had for me soon faded after he had brought me here. He is handsome, intelligent and bold; but underneath cold and cynical. As I can get no money from England until peace comes, I cannot leave him; but I've no wish even to keep a hold on his affections.'

'Why, then, this extreme perturbation? Many women who no longer love their husbands readily ignore their vices and console themselves by having affaires with other men. You did so yourself when married to Humphrey Etheredge.'

'I know; I know. But this is different. I am afraid for Charles.'

'Charles 1' Roger repeated, aghast. 'You do not mean ... ?'

'I do. Did you not see the way in which Ulrich fondled the boy before he retired after our arbeitsessen?’

'I did,' Roger agreed, 'but thought him to be showing only paternal affection.'

'You were wrong. He has set his evil heart upon seducing my son. Oh, Roger! What can I do? What can I do?'

Again Roger was silent for a minute, then he asked, 'What of Charles? Do you think him inclined to lend himself to your husband's designs upon him?'

'No, I am certain he would not. Ulrich flatters him and loads him with presents; but Charles instinctively shies away from his caresses. My awful fear is that, should he continue to fail to respond to him, Ulrich will lose patience, enter his room one night, and force him.'

'Then,' Roger said firmly, 'our only course is speedily to remove the boy from here.'

'You are right,' Georgina murmured. 'But how can we? How could this possibly be done?'

'I know not,' Roger replied. ‘I must have time to think upon it. But take heart, my love. You may be sure that I'll not leave you in so dire a strait. You know well that I have ever loved your son as though he were my own. And my love for you knoweth no bounds of time, distance or any other loves that may temporarily engage us. Such passions of the body are naught but episodes. Our spiritual link has remained unbroken all these years. We are as one, and nothing in this world is worth an iota compared to our going on together in life and death until eternity.'

'Oh, Roger, bless you 1 I never doubted for an instant that I would call upon you in vain. I know that you will think of something. My mind is already at rest, and I am relaxed.

Now make love to me as you have so often done. Nibble my ear, then enter me so that my soul can shudder with yours in delirious delight.'

Twenty minutes later, Roger gendy persuaded Georgina to return to her room. Their passionate embrace he’d restored her calm, but her heart-rending outburst earlier had taken a lot out of her and, as he was to stay five more nights at Schloss Langenstein, he felt it best that she should, that night, get an uninterrupted sleep.

Next day, Roger saw Georgina in her old role of a most accomplished hostess, for the Baron had invited a number of his neighbours to dinner. In Germany the old custom of din­ing early was still maintained, and the ten guests sat down at one o'clock to a gigantic meal, helping one another from a dozen dishes of fish, game, poultry and veal, which were set on the table simultaneously.

It was close on three o'clock when the ladies left the men to indulge in a bout of heavy drinking, and talk of sport or politics. As was to be expected, the conference at Erfurt was uppermost in all their minds. Only the Baron and Roger had been present there, and the former gave his friends an account of it, although it transpired that one of his guests was far bet­ter informed about what had actually taken place there.

This was Prince Claus von Metternich, who was paying a brief visit to Johannisberg, his estate a few miles down the river, which was famous for producing the finest white wine in the world.

Roger had never previously met the Prince, but he had heard a lot about him. The son of a distinguished diplomat, he had imbibed a knowledge of international politics from his youth. While a student at the University of Strasbourg during the French Revolution, he had witnessed the murderous ferocity of the mob, and this had led to his becoming a life-long enemy of 'Government by the People'. After leaving Strasbourg, he had made a long stay in England, then went to Vienna where, in 1795 he had married a grand-daughter of the Austrian Chancellor, von Kaunitz. In his case, nepotism had proved justified, for his appointment as Ambassador to Berlin had proved a great success. So pleasant had he made himself to the French Ambassador there that Napoleon had asked for him to be transferred to Paris. In the French capital he had proved extraordinarily popular, making many close friends, including Napoleon's sister, Caroline Murat. It was said that she had become his mistress. His handsome presence, charm­ing manners and ready wit made him a great favourite among the ladies. Now, at thirty-eight, he had become one of the most important personalities on the European stage.

Roger realised that, since everyone there believed him to be a Frenchman, the opinions expressed were on the cautious side, for to criticise Napoleon in his presence could have proved dangerous. But Metternich went as far as to say:

'From Austria's point of view, the conference ended very satisfactorily. The Emperor endeavoured to persuade the Czar to threaten my country with hostilities unless we ceased re­arming; but the Czar refused. That was largely due to the admirable exertions of Baron Vincent, whom I sent as our observer, and perhaps even more to the influence of Talley­rand.'

'I judge Your Highness right,' Roger remarked. 'It is no secret that the Prince de Benevento has always cherished the hope of restoring the old Franco-Austrian alliance which ex­isted for so long under the Kings of France. The Emperor is well aware of that. One day, while at Erfurt, I heard him snap at the Prince, "You are always an Austrian." Talleyrand re­plied, "A little, Sire; but I think it would be more exact to say that I am never Russian, and always French".'

Metternich laughed. 'How typical of his finesse. While I was Ambassador in Paris, I had numerous conversations with him, and we see eye to eye on many matters. For us, his resignation as Minister of Foreign Affairs was a sad blow; but he was right to follow the dictates of his own conscience.'

'Despite his resignation, the Emperor cannot bear to be with­out him on all important occasions. Witness how, at Erfurt, he made him chief negotiator, over the heads of both Caulaincourt and Champagny.'

'Yes; Baron Vincent realised that, although Talleyrand had no official status; and I have a feeling that he may yet play a decisive part in the affairs of France.'

They talked on until past five o'clock; then several of them, unsteady on their legs after the quantities of rich wine they had drunk, collected their ladies and departed in their coaches.

That night, when Georgina came to Roger's room, he said, 'I have given much thought, my love, to the matter of dear Charles. For me to make off with him is out of the question. In no time Ulrich would set the forces of law in motion and we would be caught long before we could cross the frontier. In fact, it is essential that there should be no suspicion that I have anything to do with his disappearance. Therefore, he must leave a day, or better still, two days before Lisala and I do.'

'But a boy of twelve could not possibly cross half a con­tinent on his own, however much money we gave him,' Geor­gina protested.

'My love, I do not suggest it. What I have in mind is that he should appear to have run away, but actually lie hidden somewhere nearby for a couple of days. Then I would pick him up and take him with me to Paris.'

Georgina nodded. 'That seems a good plan; but after Paris? What then? The Emperor never remains in Paris for long, and you will have to accompany him when he next sets out for Italy, Spain or Berlin. You could not take Charles with you. And I would be loath to have him left in Lisala's hands.'

'I agree. And there lies our worst difficulty. Obviously we must endeavour, in some way, to get him back to England, so that Still waters again becomes his home. But how? In the old days I had many ties with smugglers and might have got him across. That is not so now. Alone, if hard put to it, I doubt not I could find a way. Accompanied by a lad who might be called on to answer awkward questions, it would be a des­perately dangerous undertaking for us both.'

They remained silent, thinking hard, for more than a min­ute, then Georgina exclaimed, 'I have it! My Archduke.'

‘I have been meaning to ask you about him; but last night was no time for that.'

'He is John, the youngest of the Emperor Francis' brothers. Last August, he was making a tour of the Rhine, incognito. Through some mismanagement by her Captain, the yacht in which he was voyaging struck a rock in the shallows a mile or so away, and so badly damaged her rudder that another had to be sent for from Mayence. To pass the time, he and his gentleman-in-waiting came ashore, trudged up to the Schloss and asked permission to see the view from the tower.

'Ulrich was then away from home, in Berlin; so it was I who received them. He introduced himself as Count Stulich; only later he told me that he was an Imperial Highness. On learning of their plight, I naturally invited them to remain and dine with me. Within the first half-hour the subtle spark passed be­tween us. He is charming, intelligent and most courteous; everything a true gentleman should be. It seems that he found in me all the qualities to be admired in a woman. No sooner had we finished our meal than he packed his gentleman off down to the yacht to bring up some sketches he had made of castles on the Rhine. Then...'

'Then he proceeded to make love to you,' Roger broke in with a laugh.

'Indeed he did. But, thank God, I kept my head. Otherwise the affair might have ended with a tumble on the sofa. Having repulsed him vigorously, I let things bide a while. Then I said, quite casually, "If you have to wait some days for your new rudder, I feel sure I could find for you and your friend more comfortable quarters here than you have in your yacht".

'Oh, Roger, darling! You should have seen his eyes light up. For the next three days and the best part of three nights he never left my side. He parted from me with the greatest re­luctance and vowed that, had we both not been married he would have risked his brother's, the Emperor's, displeasure, to marry me.'

'What a delightful romance, and what a clever witch you are.' Turning over in bed, Roger added, 'Does Ulrich know of this?'

'I could not conceal the fact that two gentlemen had stayed here in his absence. But I had already found out about his disgusting practices; so, had he asked me, I would have told him the truth. No doubt it was to avoid the possibility of a futile scene that he refrained from doing so.'

'Tell me, though, how can the Archduke help us in the mat­ter of your Charles?

Georgina propped herself up on one elbow. 'Why, do you not see? Austria is not under the yoke of Napoleon. As an independent Power, Napoleon cannot prevent her maintain­ing diplomatic relations with England. Couriers must come and go between Vienna and London. Can you but get Charles to Vienna, I am confident that John will see to it that he is conveyed safely home.'

Pulling her down again, Roger kissed her. 'Dear heart, you have solved the worst pan of our problem. Now, this is what must be done. Tomorrow you must tell Charles that, greatly as it grieves you, for his sake you are sending him home, and that it must be made to appear that he has run away. He should leave a letter for you, saying that he is homesick and can bear life here no longer; then ask your forgiveness for having taken money and some of your less valuable trinkets to pay for his journey. The latter you will give him; I will provide him with money. The next day, Saturday, he must vanish; but remain concealed somewhere in the neighbourhood where I can pick him up when we leave on Monday morning.'

Georgina pondered for a time, then she said, 'Your plan is sound, but where to hide him for two days I cannot think. There is a hut some half a mile away, down on the shore, where we keep our fishing tackle. When you leave here, your coach will pass within a hundred yards of it. But, once Charles is missed, and I produce his letter, there will be a most ghastly rumpus. The whole district will be searched for him, and it's as good as certain that someone will look in the hut.'

'Let him go there, then; but not until first thing on Monday morning. Meanwhile, surely there is some place in the Castle where you can hide him?'

'They will search it from cellar to attic, on the off chance that, at the last moment, he lacked the courage to make off, and has hidden from fear of punishment-'

'I cannot believe that there is no place in this great pile where they would not look.'

'Wait!' Georgina sat up again and said excitedly, 'I have it. The Weinstube at the back of the Castle. The vintage is over; the pressing room will remain closed until next year. Charles could lie concealed inside one of the big presses. Then, even if someone looked into the room, he could not be seen, and on the Saturday and Sunday nights I could take him food.'

'To remain in such confined quarters for two nights and a day would be a considerable ordeal,' Roger commented du­biously. 'Think you the boy could endure it?'

'For that I'll vouch,' Georgina replied with conviction. 'Young as he is, he prides himself upon being an English no­bleman, and a direct descendant of Charles II. He knows back­wards the story of the King's forty-three days and nights escaping from his enemies after Worcester fight. He will think of himself as hiding in Boscobel Oak.'

'Ah, now you reassure me! That, then, is the plan we will adopt. One thing more. Before Saturday night I want you to get for me something of his. A penknife, or an odd sheet of work that he has done for his tutor, would do. Anything which would enable me to lay a false trail, that will be found after his disappearance.'

On the Friday, the Baron took Roger and a party of other gentlemen to shoot buck in his forests inland, beyond the vine­yards. That night, Georgina told Roger that, greatly as Charles was distressed at the thought of leaving her, he had agreed that it was for the best; as he realised what was behind his step­father's attentions, and loathed and was frightened by them.

Roger then told her the full truth about Lisala. When he had done, she sighed, 'How terrible that such evil should lurk in so beautiful a person. And your lot, my love, is worse than mine. Apart from being a pervert, Ulrich is not a bad man. He would never delight in flinging his depravity in my face, much less murder one of his parents.'

Saturday they went to dine at a neighbouring casde, but Roger was careful to drink sparingly of the rich wine, as he had work to do during the coming night. At one o'clock in the morning, he and Georgina took Charles down to the Weinstube. There were three large, circular presses there, about six feet in height; with, protruding from each, four great cap­stan bars which, when pushed round by the vintagers, wound a stout lid down an enormous screw, and so crushed the grapes.

When they had lined the bottom of the press with a layer of cushions, and lowered into it a supply of food and drink, the boy took a tearful leave of his mother, shook Roger by the hand, and bravely climbed into the press. Then Roger assisted the weeping Georgina back to her own room, where he spent half an hour doing his best to console her.

Reluctantly leaving her, he again went downstairs, let him­self out of a side door, and walked down the steep, curving road to the big boathouse on the shore. To get in, he had to force the lock but that suited his plan. In the long shed there were seven boats of various sizes. Clambering into one of the smaller rowing boats, he tethered the smallest of all to her stern, then unlatched the water gate and rowed out into the river.

To cross it entailed a quarter of an hour of hard pulling and the strong, swift current swept him nearly a mile down­stream before he reached the far bank. Having beached the boat he was in, and untied the rope by which he had towed over the smaller one, he drew it right up on to the shore. With him he had brought a small book belonging to Charles, which Georgina had got for him. It was in English, and a history of King Charles' escape after Worcester, so was a perfect clue to the identity of its owner. He left the book in the prow of the boat, as though it had fallen unnoticed from Charles' pocket as he jumped ashore.

Although he re crossed the river as directly as the current would permit, and made the greater part of his way back close in to the shore, it took him over an hour of strenuous effort before he reached the boathouse. Tethering the boat where he had found it, he wearily ascended the winding mountain road, eventually to reach his room stumbling with fatigue.

On Sunday mornings, it was customary for everyone at the Schloss to attend chapel. The inmates were about to take their places, when Charles' tutor arrived hotfoot, to report that the boy had not slept in his bed, and he could not be found. The service was abandoned, everyone exclaiming in dismay; Geor­gina went to her boudoir, then produced the letter Charles had left, saying that she had just found it lying on her work basket.

The Baron was furious, and declared that the boy must be caught and brought back at all costs. A party that had been arranged for later in the day, to taste the must of the new vin­tage, was promptly cancelled. Georgina, in tears that needed no forcing, went to her bedroom, but soon after emerged to say that several of her rings were missing, and some sixty thalers that she kept in a drawer against emergencies. Lisala, ignorant of the secret manoeuvres that had taken place, en­deavoured to console her for the loss of her son. Roger ex­pressed his deepest sympathy for his host, and offered his aid in the search for the missing Charles.

To Roger's amazement, von Haugwitz burst into tears and exclaimed, 'I loved the boy. I loved him.' Ostensibly, that could be taken as a strong expression of the affection a man had developed for his stepson. But to Roger it was evidence of the strength of his host's illicit passion. Swiftly recovering, the Baron summoned the bodyguard which tradition allowed him to retain, and who were now employed in the Castle as servants, gamekeepers and vine-dressers. As Georgina had fore­seen, a number of them were set to search the Castle, in case Charles' courage had failed him at the last moment, and he had hidden himself somewhere in it. Others were despatched to east and west along the shore of the river, and others again to scour the wooded hinterland.

Shortly before midday, it was discovered that a small row­ing boat was missing from the boathouse. By two o'clock it was found, and Charles' book brought to the Baron. He gave way to a passion of rage and tears, for the land on the west bank of die Rhine had, for many years past, been a part of France, and he could not send his men across, because he had no authority there. Now despairing, he called the search off and, in a state of misery, shut himself up in his room.

In the small hours of the morning, having taken fresh food to her boy, Georgina was able to tell Roger that Charles was bearing up well. But she was unutterably distressed at having finally parted from him. All had, so far, gone well with their plans, and it was their last night together, but a far from happy one. Roger held his love tightly in his arms, while she sobbed on his shoulder. When, at length, she was about to leave him, she said bitterly:

'We have both made fools of ourselves by our recent mar­riages. But I am the more to blame. They would never have come about had I only listened to your pleading last time we were together in England. Oh, how happy we could be as hus­band and wife at Stillwaters. But perhaps some day...' Then, like a wraith, she vanished, and the door closed silently behind her.

Next morning, after many expressions of gratitude and re­newed protestations of distress at Charles' having run away, Roger and Lisala took their departure. Instead of mounting his charger, Roger had his man lead it, and entered the coach with Lisala.

As soon as the cumbersome vehicle began, with its brakes on, to slither down the steep descent, Lisala remarked lightly:

'Well, I trust your old love came up to your expectations in bed.'

Roger turned to stare at her, as she went on. 'Maybe you have forgotten that, when we were so passionately enamoured of each other in Isfahan, you told me of your boy and girl affaire in Hampshire before you went to France; and that, although you have since seen the lady only at long intervals you had become life-long friends. The moment I saw your great Georgina at Erfurt, I realised that it was she who, on and off, for years has been your mistress.'

'Believe that if you wish,' Roger shrugged ' Tis all one to me.'

'Oh, I make no complaint.' Lisala smiled sweetly. 'I found the Baron excellent company. He came to my room the second night and played a man's part vigorously; and again on Fri­day. Saturday he was so upset that he failed me. But I now understand the reason for that. Last night he came to me again and persuaded me to play the part of a boy. It was a new ex­perience for me, and one I did not greatly care for. But with practice it might have possibilities.'

'For Christ's sake, be silent 1' Roger stormed. 'You utterly disgust me! But you are right about the Baron being a pederast and that is the true reason for young Charles' disap­pearance. Georgina and I stage-managed it, and shortly we shall pick him up.'

Lisala's great eyes opened wide. 'So Georgina's weeping was all a sham?'

'Certainly not. If you had any maternal feelings, you would realise her acute distress at having had to send him away.'

By that time the coach had reached the road that wound along the river bank. When it came level with the hut where the fishing tackle was kept, Roger called to his coachman to pull up. Getting out, he glanced back up at the Castle. Trees hid it, except for its topmost tower. Reassured that no-one there was likely to be overlooking them, he ran towards the but. At that moment, Charles emerged. He was pale and looked very woe-begone, but Roger took him by the arm, laughed and said:

'Well done, my son. The endurance you have displayed does you great credit. Your mama and I are very proud of you. And be of good heart. Within a few weeks, you will be back at Stillwaters.'

Pushing the boy into the coach, he said to Lisala, 'Here is someone new to exercise your charm upon, but I pray you refrain from questioning him.' Then he mounted his horse and the coach moved on.

Eight days later they reached Vienna, and put up at the Double Eagle. Next morning, Roger went to the Hofberg and enquired for the Archduke John.

To his relief, the Archduke was in residence and, a quarter of an hour later, received him in his apartment. With due respect, Roger presented a letter Georgina had given him.

While the Archduke was reading it, Roger studied him with an appraising eye. He was of medium height, stalwart and handsome, apart from the thick Habsburg lip. He had spoken crisply and had the bearing people always hoped to see in a man of his high rank. Roger decided that, this time, Georgina had had ample reason to succumb to a lover's personality.

Looking up from the letter, the Archduke said, 'It is" sad that the Baroness should find it necessary to part with her son. But I understand her feeling that a noble youth of English birth should be educated at Eton. Bring him to me, Monsieur le Colonel, and you may rely upon it that I will arrange for him to be sent safely back to England.'

He then asked eagerly after Georgina. Without going into particulars, Roger disclosed that he had known her for many years. For half an hour they talked in most friendly fashion of her charm, then the Archduke invited Roger to dine the following night. But Roger begged to be excused, because duty required him to rejoin Napoleon with a minimum of delay.

That evening he handed Charles over. The boy displayed great reluctance to be parted from him; but the Archduke showed him such kindness, saying that he must call him Uncle John, that Charles' fears at being left dependent on a stranger ebbed away and, when Roger bade him farewell, he accepted his situation quite cheerfully.

Lisala was most loath to leave Vienna after no more than having been driven round it. She was well aware that, through tae French Embassy, Roger could have obtained numerous introductions which would have led to a fortnight or more of gaiety in the Austrian capital. But Roger proved adamant, because the long detour to Vienna had already caused him to overstay the leave Napoleon had given him. So, on the 4th November, they left for Paris, arriving there on the 13th.

As members of the Court, they went straight to the Palace of St. Cloud. Roger learned that Napoleon had left for Spain on October 29th; so he enquired for his old friend, Duroc, Due de Fruili, Grand Marshal of the Palace.

Duroc was, for his time, an unusually puritanical man. He had great integrity, and was utterly devoted to his Emperor. Having served with him in Egypt and other places, Roger knew him well and had a considerable admiration for him. Duroc at once assigned to Roger suitable accommodation in the Palace for himself and his wife. Then he said, 'Among the instructions the Emperor left with me was one that, im­mediately you arrived you should follow him to Spain.'

Roger smiled. 'In this case, I must regard "immediate" as a somewhat elastic term; since I need a few days in Paris to arrange my affairs.' Actually he was in two minds whether to go to Spain or rid himself of Lisala by breaking for good with Napoleon and making his way to England.

'Bien, mon ami,' Duroc replied. 'But attend to them speed­ily, or you will find yourself in trouble.'

Owing to the unsettled state of Spain, Napoleon had not taken Josephine with him; so Lisala at once resumed duty as one of the Empress' ladies. Next day Roger rode into Paris. At La Belle Etoile, his old friends, the Blanchards, greeted him with open arms.

He had known the good Norman couple since he had first come to Paris when still in his teens. He had lodged with them while an impecunious young gallant, but one received by Marie Antoinette at Versailles; they had sheltered him while he lived disguised as a sans culottes during the darkest days of the Terror; they had seen him rise to become the friend of Napoleon and le brave Breuc of the Grande Armee. They still kept for him in their attic a chest containing clothes of several kinds, into which he could change in an emergency; but they had never enquired into his business, because they loved and trusts I him.

On his enquiring for Josefa, they directed him to an up­stairs room, where he found her and the baby, both in excel­lent health.

Although Josefa had been Lisala's nurse, she was not over fifty, having only the appearance of being older which is com­mon among women who, during their early years, have lived the hard life of peasants. Assuming that she was capable of fending for herself and looking after the child, Roger sug­gested that he should rent for her a cottage outside Paris, until arrangements could be made for her to return to Portugal. She readily agreed to that, saying she would much prefer it to continuing to live in the city.

Later, as he had so often done in the past, Roger enjoyed an excellent dinner with the Blanchards in their private par­lour, listening to all the gossip of the Faubourgs. Madame had cooked for him one of his favourite omelettes, followed by a duck, Normandy style, and they washed it down with one of the best bottles of Burgundy from the Maine's cellar, finishing up with old Calvados.

Over the meal Roger asked them to find a cottage for Josefa, and said that he would make arrangements for money to be sent them every month for the rent and her keep. They pro­mised to do so, and said they would keep a friendly eye on her.

Well dined and wined, he set off back to St. Cloud. As he rode along at an easy pace, he wondered if this was the last time he would have enjoyed the company of those loyal, un­pretentious friends. More and more he inclined to the idea of cutting loose from Lisala, even though the price must be re­tirement from participation in great events. He had only to pretend to leave for Spain, taking with him civilian clothes, change into them by night, then ride to the coast. A few dis­creet enquiries and, for a handful of gold, some smuggler would put him across to England. It could be a month or more before anybody even wondered where he had gone.

He was still debating the matter with himself when he reached the Palace. Up in their suite, Lisala was reclining on a chaise longue, reading. As she laid her book down, he no­ticed the tide. It was La Philosophe dans le Boudoir, by the Marquis de Sade. Looking up, she said:

'I have a message for you. The Empress desires you to wait upon her.'

Having spent a few minutes tidying himself, Roger went down to the Imperial apartments. One of Josephine's ladies announced him at once. The Empress received him with her usual graciousness, dismissed the woman and, when they were alone, went to a bureau, from which she took a heavily-sealed letter. Turning to Roger, she said:

'Chevalier, this is for the Emperor. It deals with matters which could be highly dangerous to me were it to fall into wrong hands, so I am afraid to trust it to an ordinary courier. But I am told that you are leaving for Spain almost immedi­ately. Would you do me the kindness to deliver it personally into the Emperor's own hand?'

Roger bowed, wondering how he could possibly excuse him­self. But an immediate reply had to be made and he saw no alternative to making that which was expected of him. 'With pleasure, Your Majesty. I am as ever entirely at your disposal.'

When he had taken the letter, they talked for a few minutes, then he returned to his apartment.

Josephine was an old and dear friend. Simply to disappear with the letter, which was clearly of great importance to her, or to pass it on to someone else who might lose or tamper with it, was unthinkable. Next morning, with great reluctance, he set out for Spain.

The Great Conspiracy

Now that the die was cast and Roger fated to rejoin the Em­peror, as he had overstayed his leave he rode all out, requisi­tioning fresh horses at every garrison town through which he passed. Six long days of hard riding enabled him to arrive at Grand Headquarters on November 21st. He excused his tardi­ness in reporting by saying he had been laid up for a week with fish-poisoning. Napoleon was in a good mood, spoke to him kindly, thanked him for having brought Josephine's letter, then sent him to Berthier to be given particulars of the situation.

Immediately after Napoleon had left Madrid, on August ist, such serious revolts had broken out that King Joseph had fled from his capital and, covered by Marshal Moncey's corps, sought safety across the Ebro. Bessieres, who was holding the road through Burgos, inflicted a defeat on the insurgents; but that same month Wellesley had defeated Junot, and occupied Lisbon. The Convention of Cintra, by which Junot and his twenty-five thousand troops had been evacuated back to France and allowed to take all their loot with them, had so outraged the Government and people of Britain that all three Generals: Wellesley, Burrard and Dalrymple, had been recalled and court-martialled. General Sir John Moore had succeeded to the Command and another, smaller, British force, under Gen­eral Baird, was said to have landed at Corunna; but the where­abouts of these two armies were at present unknown.

Meanwhile the French had been in serious straits, holding only a triangle based on the Pyrenees, pointing in the direction of Madrid. Several of the garrisons outside the triangle were isolated. General Ducherme, commanding in Catalonia, was cut off and boxed up in the fortress of Barcelona. In Saragossa, led by the patriot leader, Palafox, the insurgents had inflicted heavy losses on General Verdier's troops by many days of ter­rible house-to-house fighting: a form of warfare to which the French were not accustomed.

The French were at a further disadvantage in that the ma­jority of Bessieres' and Moncey's men were Swiss or German levies, with little heart in the battle, and such French troops as they had were largely raw conscripts. In the autumn a well-concerted effort by the Spaniards, now stiffened by the nine thousand regular soldiers whom the Marquis La Romana had brought back from Hanover, could have driven the French back across the Pyrenees. But their failure to press on to vic­tory was due to disunity. The 'Central Junta' of thirty-five delegates which had been formed, wasted its time debadng the terms of a new Constitution for Spain, and could not even be brought to appoint a Commander-in-Chief for the whole of the Spanish forces. The result was that half-a-dozen Generals, appointed by their own local Juntas, could not agree a common strategy, refused out of jealousy to support one another, and quarrelled bitterly among themselves about the division of money and arms that were being sent to them from Britain.

Although still refusing to regard the Spanish rebellion as a serious threat to his suzerainty of Europe, Napoleon had deter­mined to crush it once and for all; so he had ordered south from Germany the hard-bitten corps of Soult, Ney, Mortier, Lannes, Victor and Lefebvre. With his usual ability in direct­ing great armies, the Emperor had waited until this force of two hundred thousand veterans had concentrated in Navarre. Divided counsels had led the Spaniards to dispose the major­ity of their troops on the two flanks of the French-held triangle, leaving their centre weak. Napoleon had sent orders launching his massed legions on October 29th against this weak spot, smashed through, then directed his Marshals against the nu­merous Spanish forces to east and west, overwhelming them one by one.

Roger arrived at Headquarters while this devastating tide of victory was in full spate. Within ten days, organised Spanish resistance to the French advance had been quelled and Napo­leon was approaching Madrid. The city had no walls; but, in a frenzy of hatred, the population endeavoured to defend it by throwing up barricades. Their resistance lasted only a day. On December 3rd, the Emperor had again installed himself in the Royal Palace.

While resting his troops for a fortnight, Napoleon planned the subjugation of the remainder of Spain. Lannes had already been ordered to besiege Saragossa and put an end to Palafox. Soult was directed to invade Leon. The next move would be to march on Lisbon, where Sir John Moore's army was as­sumed to be.

Then, on the morning of the 19th, intelligence came in that Moore was not there at all. He was much further north, had entered Spain and was advancing on Valladolid. Soult was in that neighbourhood, but had only twenty thousand men. The numbers of the British force were unknown, but might be considerably greater and, if Moore defeated Soult, Napo­leon's communications with France would be cut.

The Emperor immediately dictated a despatch to Soult, warning him of his danger and ordering him to stand on the defensive until he, Napoleon, could bring up from the neigh­bourhood of Madrid the main French army, by-pass Moore and cut off his retreat into Portugal. They would then crush the British between them.

This magnificent chance to destroy an entire British army filled the Emperor with elation. No sooner had the despatch been sealed than he gave it to Roger, as the A.D.C. on duty, and told him to ride hell-for-leather with it to Soult.

Roger's mind had been made up instantly. He could not possibly stand by while thousands of his countrymen were killed or captured. Even if it cost him his own life he must warn Moore of the trap into which he was walking. As a pre­caution against emergencies, he always travelled with a small valise containing civilian clothes. Collecting it from his room, and wrapping himself in his fur cloak against the bitter cold, he ran down to the stables. Normally, he would have been accompanied by his orderly; but he told the officer-in-charge of the stable that his business was too urgent for him to wait for the man to be found.

Taking the road to Valladolid, he covered the one hundred miles to the road junction at Tondesillas, twenty miles south­west of the city, in eleven hours, arriving there a little after ten o'clock that evening. As was the case with all the towns and villages on the road north, it was guarded by a French detachment. Snow was falling, and in the Officers' Mess he found the inmates huddled round a glowing fire. After snatch­ing a hasty meal and changing his horse for the fourth time, he again took the road; but, instead of taking that to Valladolid, he proceeded due west, along the road leading to Zamora and the Portuguese frontier.

A mile outside the town he dismounted, changed, shiver­ing, into civilian clothes behind a haystack, and stuffed his uniform into the valise. The moon had now risen and gave him enough light to see some distance ahead. After riding another twelve miles he saw, upon a slight rise, an encamp-m-at of bivouacs. A hundred yards further on, he was chal­lenged by a sentry.

He asked to be taken at once to the man's officer. As it was now well on in the night, the sentry at rirst demurred; but Roger's air of authority overcame his scruples. The troops proved to be a vedette of Hussars, commanded by a Captain. Roger told him that he had intelligence of the first importance for Sir John Moore, and requested a guide to his Headquar­ters. As he had no credentials he could show, the Captain thought it possible that he might be a spy and said he would send him on only if he agreed to be blindfolded. Roger readily consented. Then he said:

'I have ridden close on a hundred and twenty miles today, and am near exhausted. Could you, perchance, send me on in a trap or some other conveyance? But it must be fast-moving, as every moment is precious.'

Roger's state of fatigue was obvious, so the Captain said be could go in the mess cart and, while a good horse was har­nessed to it, made him take a long drink from a flask of port wine.

Ten minutes later, Roger was again on his way, now blind­folded, but lying on a straw-filled palliasse, and covered with a pile of blankets against the intense cold of the winter night. In spite of the jolting, he soon fell asleep. For how long he slept he did not know; but, to his great relief when the driver woke him, he saw that it was still dark; so there was a chance that he might reach Valladolid without too great a delay to explain away when he delivered his despatch to Soult.

On getting out of the cart, he saw that he was in the middle of a great camp, and that the vehicle had pulled up before a marquee. Outside, a soldier of a Highland regiment stood on guard, and he called his Sergeant. The Sergeant evidently suspected that this stranger, arriving in the middle of the night, might have been sent to harm his General. But Roger's mother had been Scottish, and in his youth he had imbibed something of her accent. Using it again now, he allayed the Sergeant's suspicions, and the man took Roger into the marquee, where an A.D.C. was dozing. Again there occurred an infuriating delay while Roger stressed the extreme urgency of his busi­ness. At length the A.D.C. consented to rouse his General; and, a few minutes later, Sir John emerged from an inner division of the marquee.

To him Roger said quickly, 'Sir, you will not recall me, but we met once before. It was while Mr. Pitt was out of office and commanding two battalions of Fencibles at Walmer. You came over from Hythe to give a talk on the new tactics you have invented, by which infantry should advance in open or­der, each man trained to fight independently, instead of offer­ing a good target to enemy guns by going forward in massed formation.'

The General nodded. 'I remember the occasion and vaguely recall your face. What brings you here ?'

Roger produced the despatch for Soult. 'Time docs not now permit, Sir, for me to give you particulars of how it is that I am one of the Emperor's aides-de-camp. But I was charged to deliver this despatch with all speed. It instructs Marshal Soult to stand on the defensive should you attack him. Meanwhile the Emperor will already be giving orders for his main army to advance into the country to your south, and so encircle you.'

"That is bad news, indeed!' Sir John exclaimed. 'I have been delayed by a fool of a Spanish General telling me that the mountain roads were impassable for my artillery, which proved quite untrue when I crossed them with my main body; but I had already sent the guns round by a long detour. They reached me only a few days ago, and it was not until then that I was able to make contact with General Baird. But now, with twenty-seven thousand men, I had good hopes of routing Soult and cutting Napoleon's communications with France.'

'Alas, Sir,' Roger shook his head, 'that is now out of the question. Within a week, the Emperor will have at the least one hundred thousand troops massed against you.'

'I must retreat at once then, and by forced marches escape the trap. Given good fortune, I may yet get my army back to Corunna in lime to embark them in our ships and take them off to fight another day. Entrust me, please, with your name, Sir, that I may report confidentially to Mr. Canning or Lord Castlereagh this great service you have rendered me.'

'I am known to both, and am the son of the late Admiral Sir Christopher Brook. But I pray you, let that knowledge go no further.'

'Ah! Now I recall meeting you at Walmer. But, Mr. Brook, you look sadly worn. You must have refreshment and rest. I'll see to it.'

'Nay, I thank you, Sir.' Roger shook his head. 'Do I delay overmuch in getting this despatch to Soult, I'll be finished with Napoleon. I must return at once to Tondesillas with all possible speed.'

Sir John had a gig which he used on occasions. By the time Roger had drunk a glass of wine and munched a hastily-made sandwich, it was brought round. Having wrung his hand, the General saw him off. An hour later, he reached the vedette. The Captain of Hussars had had Roger's horse watered and fed. It was quickly saddled up, and Roger was off again.

By the time he reached the outskirts of Tondesillas, the late winter dawn was breaking. Behind a barn he changed back into his uniform. Skirting the town by byways, he came out on the road to Valladolid. The last twenty miles were agony. He was half-frozen, saddle-sore and incredibly tired. Half a mile outside the city, he turned into a bridle path, dismounted, re­moved his valise from the back of the saddle and gave his mount a sharp cut on the rump with his riding switch, caus­ing the animal to bolt. Rallying his last reserves of strength, Roger walked into the town, to arrive at Marshal Soult's headquarters just before ten o'clock.

The grey-haired Marshal, whom Roger had met on many occasions, received him immediately he was announced. Roger had worked it out that, even had he ridden with less speed from Madrid, he should still have reached Valladolid in the early hours of the morning; so he had several hours to account for. Leaning heavily on a chairback, he told Soult that, after pass­ing through Tondesillas, he had been shot at from behind a hedge; his horse had thrown him and bolted, and he was lucky to have escaped with his life, as he had rolled into a ditch where, in the darkness, his assailants had failed to find and murder him. He had not dared to leave the ditch for a con­siderable time, then had had to walk the rest of the way to Valladolid.

Such occurrences had become so frequent in Spain that the Marshal did not even think of questioning his statement; but ripped open the despatch, read it, shouted for his staff to give them urgent orders, then sent Roger off to bed.

Dead to the world, he slept through the day, roused in the evening, only to take a glass of wine and cat a wing of chicken which a friend of his on Soult's staff brought up to him, then slept again. On the 21st, he set off back to Madrid, but his thighs were still sore so he took the journey in leisurely fashion, not arriving until the 24th.

To his surprise, he learned that the Emperor had left Madrid for Paris in great haste on the evening of the previous day, so he must have passed along the road through Valladolid while Roger was sleeping. Between the 19th and the 23rd, Napoleon had placed Ney in command of the army despatched to outflank Sir John Moore, and for the past four days had been constantly sending couriers after him to insist that he press on in spite of a blizzard which was rendering the moun­tains of Galicia almost impassable. In view of the frenzied excitement the Emperor had displayed at this chance to des­troy the British, his sudden departure was more than ever a mystery. But Roger learned the reason from Lavalette, one of his fellow A.D.C.s.

Undoubtedly, after the Emperor, Talleyrand and Fouche were the two most powerful men in France. Both had made immense fortunes, but their backgrounds and personalities were as different as it was possible for them to be.

The two men loathed and had constantly opposed each other. Napoleon had always secretly feared the intellect and influence of both; so it suited him admirably that his two prin­cipal lieutenants in directing the affairs of France should be irreconcilable.

It now emerged that the Emperor had learned that these erstwhile enemies, who never attended the same function if they could avoid each other, had been seen arm-in-arm at a reception given by Madame de Remusat. Still more formid­able, Napoleon's stepson, Eugene de Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, had intercepted a letter from Talleyrand to Murat, in­forming the King of Naples that relays of horses were being stationed across France to bring him to Paris with the utmost speed in case of a certain eventuality.

Roger instantly saw the implications. He already knew that Talleyrand was secretly working to bring about the Emperor's downfall. Evidently Fouche now also realised that Napoleon's ceaseless wars were bleeding France to death, so his rule must be ended. They had decided to stage a coup d'etat while the Emperor had his hands full in Spain.

But why put Murat on the throne? Because, even if Joseph had been prepared to accept it, the French people would not have him, or any of the other Bonaparte brothers, as their Em­peror. On the other hand, Murat, the handsome, dashing Ca­valry leader, hero of a score of battles, was immensely popular and, pushed on by his boundlessly ambitious wife, Caroline, would not scruple to supplant his brother-in-law. Moreover, such a vain and stupid blockhead was just the sort of figure­head who would give no trouble, so enable Talleyrand and Fouche between them to rule France.

As they discussed the matter, Roger found that Lavalatte had reached the same conclusion. He had been left behind to see to certain matters which Napoleon had had no time to settle, but had now completed them. So, on the following morn­ing the two A.D.C.s left Madrid together, speculating on whether, when they reached Paris, they would find that the two great conspirators had been arrested, or that Napoleon was deposed and the capital in a turmoil.

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.

On the 30th, Roger received a note from Talleyrand, ask­ing him as a matter of urgency to meet him out at his house at Passey a little before midnight. The summons brought Roger many recollections. The charming petite maison on the out­skirts of Paris had been Talleyrand's home before the Revolu­tion. There he had entertained the foremost Liberals of the French nobility who were striving to bring in long-overdue reforms. It was there that Roger had first met men who after­wards made history. Later, during the Terror, when Talley­rand had had to escape from France, Roger, as a member of the dread Paris Commune, had commandeered the house and so saved it and its contents for its owner. During those terrible days he had at times lived there, once with his wife Amanda, and at another time with the beautiful Athenais de Rochambeau.

Dressed in civilian clothes, he drove out there in a hired coach. It was a bitter winter night and raining. Muffled in his cloak, he walked up the garden path, and hammered with the knocker on the front door. It was opened almost immediately by Antoine Velot. He and his wife, Marie, as butler and cook-housekeeper, had been the only permanent staff there for many years. During the long period of Talleyrand's exile, Roger had paid their wages and, in return, when he made brief visits to the house, they had given him most faithful service.

Antoine was now well advanced in years; but, having re­ceived Roger with delight, he declared that le bon Dieu had blessed himself and his wife by keeping them both hale and hearty. He then showed Roger into the small library. Talley­rand was there, lounging on a sofa, with Fouche seated op­posite him; while old Marie was putting the finishing touches to a cold collation on a side tabic. After greeting the two men, Roger put his hands on Marie's shoulders as she curtsied to him, raised her up and kissed her withered cheek. It was one of those gestures that made him loved by humble folk. The others looked at him in surprise, but he smiled and said:

'In the days when Paris ran with blood, this was my refuge. Marie was like a mother to me, and Antoine could not have showed more devotion to a son.'

When Marie had left the room, Talleyrand said, 'Doubt­less you have heard about the scene that took place at the Tuileries the day before yesterday?'

Roger nodded. 'The little man has become impossible. I wonder that you did not strike him with your cane, and so be done with him once and for all.'

Talleyrand shrugged. 'That evening I dined with the Coun­tess de Laval and I told her of it. She said I should have used the poker. I replied that I was too lazy. But that is not quite the truth. I submitted to his insults because I am determined not to break with him until I have broken him.'

'I admire Your Highness' tenacity,' Fouche remarked, 'and between us we will yet save France from being totally des­troyed by him.' Then he gave a loud sniff. He suffered from a perpetual cold, and his face was as cadaverous as ever. His long, grey coat was ill fitting and his waistcoat stained with snuff.

Continuing to address Roger, Talleyrand went on, 'We asked you to join us, cher ami, because much depends on our being informed of the true state of affairs in Spain and, having but recently returned, you should be able to tell us if there is more or less percentage of the usual lies in the bulletins issued by the Emperor. But first let us refresh ourselves.'

Fouche helped himself to a meagre portion of boned chicken stuffed with sausage meat and truffles. Roger went for the Duck Montmorency, one breast of which had been removed and replaced with foie gras, and the whole decorated with red cherries. Their host chose the lobster patties crowned with oysters. There were Chateau Latour, Corton Clos du Roi, Montrachet and Anjou to hand to wash these good things down. It was only an alfresco supper, but typical of the table kept by the Prince de Benevento.

While they ate, they talked of minor matters; then, putting his plate aside, Roger said, 'The Emperor would have the people believe that he has quelled the rebellion; and that, with Joseph re-established in Madrid, the whole trouble is over. But that is far from being the case. The insurgents still hold four-fifths of the country and the whole of Portugal. With British troops to stiffen them...'

'No, no,' Fouche interrupted. 'The English have been driven out. Reports from my people have been coming in for some days. To begin with, they were vague, but today quite definite. General Sir Moore was too precipitate in his retreat. 'Tis said that he force-marched his men seventeen miles a day to escape the trap set for him. As a result he lost several thousand from exhaustion, on the way to the coast. The English fought more determined rearguard actions. In one, their Hussars cut the Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard to pieces. That enabled Gen­eral Sir Moore to get his main body to Corunna without it being defeated. But there he was forced to turn at bay. Again the English and Scottish fought with great bravery and the majority of them succeeded in getting away in their ships; but Sir Moore was killed during the battle.'

This was sad news for Roger, as Sir John was considered to be Britain's finest General; but he could comfort himself with the thought that his timely warning had probably saved the army from complete annihilation. After a moment he said:

'As soon as the Emperor learned of Moore's whereabouts and launched his greatly superior force against the British, it was clear that they would either suffer a disastrous defeat, or have to take to their ships. What I meant was that, with the Peninsular in its present state, you can count it certain that they will return. They would be mad to neglect such a God given opportunity to establish themselves at last on the Con­tinent. And they still hold Lisbon.'

'Yes, with some nine thousand troops. But for how long will such a comparatively small body of men succeed in main­taining themselves there?'

'With luck, until they are reinforced by much greater num­bers.'

'But that cannot happen for a month or more at least,' Talleyrand put in. 'Meanwhile, Ney's corps, and others, will be on their way to the Portuguese capital and should easily overwhelm so small a garrison.'

‘I disagree,' Roger replied. 'Sir John Moore's Number Two, General Baird, could sail down the coast in a matter of days, with the men taken off from Corunna and throw them into Lisbon. That is the obvious strategy. At a fair estimate it could raise the garrison to some twenty thousand men. And, should they hold the lines of Torres Vedras, Ney will find it no easy business to dislodge them.'

'What of Spain?' Fouche asked, sniffling again. 'We have some two hundred thousand men there: Soult, Bessieres, Vic­tor and other well-tried Marshals. Surely within a few months they will prove capable of overcoming all resistance?'

Roger shook his head. 'I do not think so. The Spaniards are gone mad, and their priests, regarding the French as athe­ists, are leading them into battle. Every peasant and towns­man in the country has armed himself with some weapon. At least a million of them are out to spill French blood. Two-thirds of the cities are still in their hands, many French gar­risons are now locked up in fortresses, half-starving; and there is hardly a road along which a convoy of supplies to relieve them can be sent without its being ambushed.'

Talleyrand refilled their glasses, and said, 'Then you are convinced that this rebellion is no flash in the pan, and can­not soon be crushed, as Napoleon maintains it will be?'

'I am. Had he remained in Spain to direct operations him­self, his genius is such that he might have succeeded in coping with this hydra-headed monster. But few of his Marshals have the ability to do so. Soult is a good General but not, I think, good enough. Davoust has the brains to deal with the situa­tion, and Massena probably; but they are both in Germany. Even were either of them given the task, in my opinion it would take at least a year to reduce these fanatical Spaniards to even partial submission.'

Glancing at Fouche, Talleyrand asked, 'Monsieur le Ministre, are you of the opinion that we should now proceed?'

Fouche never looked anyone directly in the face. His eyes were downcast, but his voice firm, as he replied, 'Yes, Your Highness. There can hardly occur a better opportunity to bring him down.'

Talleyrand turned his heavily-lidded eyes on Roger, and said, 'For some time past I have been in secret communication with Prince Metternich. Although still comparatively young, he has the makings of a diplomat of the highest order. As you must know, for many months past Austria has been re-arming with a view to taking revenge on the Emperor for the humilia­tions he has put upon her. The Archduke Charles is urging restraint and is averse to his country again challenging Napo­leon until the early summer. But the Prime Minister, Count Stadion, and Prince Metternich favour prompt action, to take advantage of the Emperor's involvement in Spain. Should that be only temporary, Austria would be better advised to wait until her new levies are fully trained. If, on the other hand, the Emperor is compelled to retain a great army in the Penin­sula for many months to come, Austria has no need to fear the reappearance of those legions on her frontier; so the sooner she acts, the better.'

'There is also the situation in Prussia,' Fouche put in. 'The impassioned discourses of Fichte and others have led to the formation of a patriotic association, known as the Tugenbund, pledged to throw off French domination. Then there is the matter of Stein. Early in December, while in Madrid, the Em­peror sent King Frederick William what amounted to an order. It read, "The man Stein is a troublemaker. I require you to dismiss him from your service and confiscate his lands." The craven King did as he was bade. This persecution of a leading patriot has inflamed the nation to fever-pitch. My agents re­port from all quarters there that the people are declaring that Prussia should follow the example of Spain, rise in its wrath and destroy the French garrisons. If Austria acts promptly, there is a good chance that this present wave of hatred may cause the Prussians to take up arms. But if Austria delays for several months, it will die down.'

Finishing his wine, Talleyrand set down his glass. 'With the prospect that the Spanish will continue to occupy a great French army in the Peninsula, and the possibility that the Prus­sians will rise, thereby detaining further large French forces in the north, the army that the Emperor could bring against Austria would be outnumbered. Given a victorious campaign by the Austrians, Napoleon's power will be shattered. I feel that there could be no better time to strike. What is your view. Messieurs ?'

Both Fouche and Roger nodded their agreement.

Smiling, Talleyrand said, 'The die is cast then. I will com­municate with Metternich tomorrow, and tell him to urge upon the Emperor Francis that the time has come to liberate Europe from the thraldom it has suffered all too long.'

The Gathering Clouds

Later, Roger learned from various sources of the decisions taken in Vienna as a result of Talleyrand's communication to Metternich, coupled with the Austrian's own assessment of the anti-French feeling now greatly on the increase through­out Europe.

On February 8th war was decided upon, although no open declaration of war was to be made. Obviously, Austria's chances of victory would be greatly strengthened if she could form a Fourth Coalition.

Strenuous efforts were made to induce Prussia to avenge herself on Napoleon. Her Ambassador in Vienna, von der Goltz, put forward the proposal that his country should con­tribute eighty thousand men to an Allied army. Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, and other members of the war party persuaded Frederick William to agree; but later, from fear of Russia, the spineless King went back on his promise.

Count Starhemberg was despatched to London, but found the British about to commit their best troops to the Peninsula. Canning could do no more than send a subsidy of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds in silver bars to Trieste and promise that, as soon as more troops became available, he would use them to create a diversion in the Low Countries.

Austria would, therefore, have to fight alone. However, she had one consolation. At Erfurt, Alexander had promised Napoleon that, should Austria start hostilities while he was occupied in Spain, Russia would intervene. But the Czar was still fully occupied with wresting Finland from Sweden; and, now that he had cooled towards the French, that provided a good excuse for not going to their aid. He had indicated to

Count Schwarzenberg that, should he have to keep his word, only a token force would be sent.

The French army was believed to number eight hundred thousand men. But three hundred thousand of them were now in Spain, two hundred thousand in France and sixty thousand in Italy. It was estimated that not more than two hundred and thirty thousand were in Germany and Poland, whereas Austria could put into the field two hundred and eighty-three thousand regulars and a further three hundred and ten thousand par­tially-trained militia. Moreover, Napoleon's army was very far from being the magnificent Grand Army that had threat­ened England with invasion in 1805. More than half of it now consisted of Rhinelanders, Dutch, Danes and Poles; while the French units contained a very high proportion of young con­scripts called up a year, and even two years, before they would normally have been liable to serve.

On February 25th, Austria began her strategic concentra­tions. The Archduke Charles, unquestionably their best Gen­eral, was to command the main army and endeavour to defeat the French army in Germany, which was commanded by Mar­shal Davoust. A second army, under the command of the Arch­duke John, was to strike down into Italy with the object of re­gaining the Tyrolese and Venetian lands, which had been reft from Austria after her last defeat. A third army, under the Archduke Ferdinand, was to invade the Grand Duchy of War­saw.

Unfortunately for the Austrians, in spite of the reforms introduced by the Archduke Charles, their military machinery was still slow and cumbersome. It was not until early April that they were ready to strike, and the Archduke issued his proclamation:

'The freedom of Europe has sought refuge beneath our ban­ners. Soldiers, your victories will break her chains. Your Ger­man brothers, who are now in the ranks of the enemy, wait for their deliverance.'

This eloquent appeal met with an enthusiastic response. Be­tween them, Stadion and the Archduke had abolished a good part of the hidebound bureaucracy, and ousted the inefficient

Generals who had previously held commands only owing to their noble lineage, or through Court favour. Now, the troops had been given similar opportunities to those Napoleon had held out to the French, when he had declared, 'Every private carries in his knapsack a Marshal's baton.'

Moreover, as in the case of Spain, Catholic Austria was indignant at Napoleon's treatment of the Pope, in having the previous year annexed a large part of His Holiness' States of the Church.

Towards the end of March, Austria's concentrations were complete and the war opened well for her. On April 9th, the Archduke John invaded Italy and on the 16th defeated a Franco-Italian army under Eugene de Beauharnais. Mean­while, he had despatched General Chasder with ten thousand men into the Tyrol against the Bavarians who, as Napoleon's allies, had received that territory as part of the spoils of victory by the Peace of Pressburg.

The deeply religious Tyrolese were eager both to avenge the insults to the Pope and again to become Austrian subjects. In their villages these hardy mountaineers rose almost to a man, armed themselves and began to attack the Bavarian gar­risons. In four days, the Bavarians had been driven out of all northern Tyrol, and the Austrian flag again flew over Inns­bruck.

The Archduke Ferdinand was equally successful. Advanc­ing rapidly into Poland, on April 19th he defeated the Franco-Polish army under Prince Poniatowski and, on the 22nd, occupied Warsaw.

However, the Archduke Charles was not so fortunate. He had assembled six corps in Bohemia and two corps in upper Austria, with the object of invading Bavaria. Davoust was in difficulties, because his troops were scattered far and wide over Germany. But the French Marshals knew far better how to use time than did their enemies. While the Austrians, owing to bad supply organisation, were advancing only by half-day marches, Davoust succeeded in concentrating the major part of his forces on the line Munich-Ratisbon-Wiirzberg. Yet, with only eighty-nine thousand men, he was far inferior to the army the Archduke could bring against him. His situation was then rendered more desperate by an order issued from Strasbourg by Berthier, whom the Emperor had placed in command of the operations in Germany. It was that Davoust should con­centrate round Ratisbon.

Roger's relations with Lisala had been deteriorating from day to day, so it was a considerable relief to him when, on April 13th, he left with Napoleon for the front. On arriving at Donauworth, the Emperor swiftly corrected the errors that Berthier had made and, at a risk that he did not at the time appreciate, ordered Davoust to march his four divisions across the enemy's front. At Haussen, on the 19th, the Marshal was fiercely attacked but, by magnificent generalship, fought his way through. There ensued two days of violent conflict be­tween widely separated forces. Then, on the 22nd, at Eckmuhl, Napoleon inflicted a major defeat on the Archduke.

The Austrian centre was shattered. The left, under General Hiller, was driven south-east, towards the river Isar. The main body, under the Archduke, retreated north and, on the 23rd, succeeded in getting across to the left bank of the Danube. But in the five days of fighting in the neighbourhood of Ratisbon, the Austrians had lost forty thousand men in killed, wounded and prisoners.

One of Napoleon's great strengths as a commander of armies was the way in which he succeeded in driving troops, already exhausted by battle, to follow up a defeated enemy. With ruthless determination, he pursued Hiller towards Vienna. On May 13th, the Emperor again rode into the Imperial city as a conqueror.

Nevertheless, the Archduke's army had escaped destruction. Having succeeded in getting across the Danube to the left bank, it was joined by the surviving regiments of Hiller's force and the garrison that had been driven from Vienna. Again a for­midable army, it occupied the Marchfeld, some five miles south-east of the capital. It was on this historic field that Ru­dolph of Habsburg had defeated the famous Bohemian warrior-King Ottakar II in 1276, and so founded the Austrian Empire.

The position not only raised the morale of the troops by its historic association, but was an extremely difficult one to attack; as the river there was from two to four and a half miles wide. Between the banks lay a dozen or more islands, much the largest of which was Lobau. Napoleon decided to cross and occupied the villages of Aspern and Essling, but he was not aware that the Austrians were so close at hand. On May 21 st, Bessieres had barely taken up his position with only seven­teen thousand infantry, when they were fallen upon by eighty thousand infantry and fifteen thousand horse. Nevertheless, Lannes succeeded in holding Essling, and it was not until dusk that the Austrians had driven Massena from the centre of Aspern. The Emperor's attempt to break through the enemy's centre by a great cavalry charge failed and, by nightfall, the French positions were almost surrounded.

In the small hours, Massena reopened the battle and drove the Austrians out of Aspern. Meanwhile, the Imperial Guard and Oudinot's Grenadiers had crossed the river. Desperate fighting ensued all through the 22nd. Under one determined onslaught some Austrian battalions began to waver, but the Archduke seized the banner of the Zach regiment and flung himself into the fray. His example rallied his troops, and the French were driven back. In a magnificent charge the French cavalry routed the Austrian cavalry, but were robbed of the fruits of their achievement by themselves being driven back by Austrian Grenadiers.

During the morning, Napoleon received the alarming news that the largest of the bridges which he had built across the Danube had been set on fire, and that others were being swept away by trees and barges sent down the flooded river. This meant annihilation for the French should they fail to hold their own. They were now fighting for survival. Essling was lost, but regained. Aspern finally fell to the Austrians. By then both armies were utterly exhausted. By superhuman efforts the French engineers had repaired a number of bridges. That night the Emperor withdrew the remains of his army into the island of Lobau.

The slaughter had been appalling, approaching that of Ey­lau. Austria lost twenty-five thousand and France twenty thousand men, among them the irreplaceable Marshal Lannes. The finest assault leader in the army, he had a hundred times led his men up scaling ladders and through breaches made by cannon in the walls of fortresses. He had been wounded more than twenty times, and it was said that bullets only bent, never shattered, his bones; but, at last, he had received a wound that was mortal. Napoleon tenderly embraced the dying Marshal, but Lannes' last words were to reproach him for his boundless ambition which was causing such a terrible loss of French lives. Like many others, for a long time past his heart had not been in the Emperor's wars, and he had continued to serve only out of a sense of duty. A staunch Republican and con­vinced atheist, he had often openly criticised Napoleon for creating a new aristocracy, and for his rapprochement with the Church.

In this last matter, having paid lip-service to religion in order to gain the support of a large part of the French people, the Emperor had now become so convinced of his absolute supremacy that he could afford to humble the Pope. In Vienna only a week before, on May 17th, he had issued a decree de­priving His Holiness of all temporal power, and annexed that part of the States of the Church that he had spared the pre­vious year. Asserting himself to be the 'successor of Charle­magne', he relegated the Pope to merely Bishop of Rome, with a stipend of two million francs. When Pius VII protested and excommunicated him, he retaliated by having him arrested and taken as a prisoner from Rome to Florence.

The battle of Aspern-Essling had a great effect on public opinion throughout the whole of Europe. Eylau had in fact been a stalemate, but Napoleon had been able to claim it as a victory because, on the night following the battle, the Russians had withdrawn. Aspern-Essling was also a stalemate, but in that case it was the French who had withdrawn, leaving the Austrians in possession of the battlefield. The belief that Napo­leon, when commanding in person, could not be defeated had at last been deflated.

Had the Archduke Charles been in a position to attack the island of Lobau next day, it could have brought Napoleon's Empire crashing about his ears; for, not only had the major­ity of the French no more fight left in them, but they were without food and had run out of ammunition. But the Austrians, too, were utterly exhausted; so, under flags of truce, while the battlefield was being cleared of its mounds of corpses, a seven-week Armistice was agreed upon.

While the French army remained on Lobau, the Emperor installed himself in the Palace of Schonbrunn, just outside Vienna, and sent for his Court. During June, by feats of bril­liant organisation, he brought from all quarters large rein­forcements and huge quantities of stores and ammunition.

Meanwhile, from both south and north bad news for the French kept coming in.

Of the three British Generals court martial led for the Con­vention of Cintra, Sir Arthur Wellesley alone was acquitted. Lord Castlereagh had a great belief in his abilities and induced the Cabinet to send the future Duke of Wellington back to the Peninsula as Commander-in-Chief of a considerable army.

Napoleon had laid down the strategy to be followed by his Marshals. Gouvion St. Cyr was to clean up Catalonia, Victor was to destroy the Spanish army in Andalusia, Ney was to hold down Galicia while Soult advanced from there to take Oporto, then Lisbon. In mid-March Victor crossed the Tagus and defeated the Spanish regulars, but was so weakened that, with­out reinforcements, which King Joseph in Madrid could not send him, decided that he dare advance no further. Towards the end of the month Soult arrived in front of Oporto. Led by the Bishop, thirty thousand insurgents put up a most heroic resistance; but, lacking even a semblance of organisation, were massacred by the thousand. Having captured the city, but still surrounded on all sides by hordes of enemies, Soult, too, felt he dared advance no further.

Such was the situation when, on April 22nd, Wellesley landed in Lisbon. With twenty-five thousand British troops and sixteen thousand Portuguese, he decided that he was strong enough to defeat first Soult, then Victor. Marching north­wards, he carried out a most daring crossing of the Douro where the cliffs were so steep that Soult had left the river un­guarded. Taken by surprise, the French Marshal was chased out of Oporto, then found himself cut off by dispositions Wellesley had made. In despair, he burned his baggage, sacrificed his plunder and abandoned his artillery. The remnants of his shattered corps, reduced to a starving rabble, made their way as best they could by goat tracks over the mountains back to Galicia.

No such major disaster as the destruction of an entire French Army Corps took place in northern Europe; but there were portents of trouble to come. Sickened by the pusillanimity of his King, Frederick von Schill, who commanded a regiment of Prussian Hussars, left Berlin with them on April 28th. He endeavoured to surprise the French and take from them the great fortress of Magdeburg. In that he failed, but in other anions he met with considerable success, including the capture of Stralsund. But there he was overwhelmed by Napoleon's Danish and Dutch troops and mortally wounded.

Schill’s gallant exploits raised the patriotic fervour of his countrymen to fever-pitch and incited the young Duke of Brunswick to follow his example. He had formed a corps of volunteers in Bohemia. With them he invaded Saxony and, on June nth, captured Dresden. After several times defeat­ing the troops of Napoleon's brother, King Jerome, in West­phalia, the Duke decided to fight his way right across Ger­many. After many perilous encounters, he succeeded, and with his men was taken off by British ships to England. His little troop became the nucleus of the 'King's German Legion', that later fought with great gallantry under Wellington in Spain.

During the battle of Aspern-Essling, while carrying a mess­age from the Emperor to Massena, a bullet had knocked Roger's hat from his head and ploughed through his scalp. It was not a serious wound, but resulted in his being sent, after a few days on Lobau, with one of the batches of casualties, into Vienna for treatment by a civilian doctor.

There, he found that Duroc was already allocating accom­modation in the Schonbrunn Palace, in anticipation of the arrival of the Court. Since the Palace would also be used as

Great Headquarters, it was certain that it would be crowded and very noisy. As additional accommodation, Duroc had commandeered a number of small private houses just outside the Park. Roger suffered from severe headaches as a result of his wound, so he was anxious to secure quarters where he would be as quiet as possible, and he asked Duroc if he might occupy one of the houses. His old friend readily granted his request.

It was a pleasant little, double-fronted villa, with a wing consisting of stables and coach house at ground level and ser­vants' quarters above. To the right of the front door, a drawing room ran the whole depth of the house, with a similar room as best bedroom on the first floor. To the left, there was a small dining room and kitchen, with two more bedrooms over. Op­posite the top of the stairs, between the big bedroom and the other, smaller room at the back, was a slip room which could be entered from either. It could have been used as a dressing room, but Roger saw that it had been fitted up as a clothes closet.

At the back of the house there was a verandah, and along the first floor a broad, covered balcony looking out on a half an acre of pleasant garden. Roger decided that he would leave the big bedroom to Lisala, and himself occupy the smaller one further along the balcony. There, with his soldier servant and groom to serve him, he rested for some days, getting up only for meals and strolls round the garden, until his scalp had healed and his headaches ceased.

By that time, Napoleon was living in the Palace and Roger reported back for duty. A week later the Court arrived and, as one of the Empress' ladies, Lisala. She was, Roger had to admit to himself, as beautiful as ever; but she stirred no trace of desire in him. Treating her with the same politeness he had shown her in Paris, he took her to the little house. She was enchanted with it, and declared that she wished she could laze away the summer days in the garden instead of having to attend on Josephine. However, hardly had she settled in than, to his intense annoyance, she produced another sheaf of bills that considerably exceeded the one thousand francs a month he had agreed to allow her.

There followed a violent quarrel. She maintained that, in her position, it was essential always to appear in the latest mode. He argued that other ladies-in-waiting did not always do so and were far less extravagant. She had found out from someone what his pay and allowances amounted to, and de­clared that he could well afford to indulge her tastes. He ad­mitted that he could, but only within reason, and he would soon be beggared if she continued to run up bills at this pace. She remarked with a smile that spies who had given them­selves away should not grumble at having to pay for their con­tinued immunity. Seething with anger, he agreed to settle her bills, then stamped out of the house.

For the hundredth time he contemplated the terrible fix into which he had got himself, and felt that to go on like this indefinitely was impossible. Yet only two alternatives offered themselves. One was to kill her, the other was to throw in his hand, quietly slip away from Vienna, then make his way to England.

During his time, Roger had caused many men to die vio­lent deaths, but to murder a woman in cold blood was a very different matter and, although he had come to hate Lisala, he knew he could not kill her. He was almost equally reluc­tant to free himself from her by absconding, because he felt that Europe was now hovering on the brink of the greatest crisis that had arisen for many years. It needed only one major defeat of Napoleon by the Archduke Charles to bring about the Emperor's fall. In adversity, every hand would be against him. In Paris, Talleyrand and Fouche, backed by many of the Marshals, would seize power. Both of them knew the truth about Roger, so he would then have nothing to fear. He could divorce Lisala and send her packing.

While continuing with her, he had only one consolation. So far no rumour had reached him that she had taken a lover. Her nature being as it was, he had little doubt that, after he left Paris, she had had one or more, and that she would shortly select one here in Vienna. But at least she was exercising dis­cretion in her amours. Perhaps because she had taken seriously his threat that, should she fail to do so, he would kill her. In any case, she had not as yet brought public ridicule upon him.

During the last half of June Schonbrunn became nightly the scene of balls, operas, plays and brilliant receptions. The Emperor appeared at them all, attended by his subject Kings and Princes, and giving the impression that he considered the war with Austria as good as over. But, during the days and far into the nights, he was in his Cabinet, working with frantic energy to build up the army that still occupied the island of Lobau.

By early July, Napoleon had succeeded in massing over one hundred and seventy thousand troops on the island, and now had a superiority in numbers; for the Archuke had not been so able or so fortunate in bringing up reserves.

After the Archduke Ferdinand's first success in taking War­saw, the tide had turned against him. Early in May, Prince Poniatowski took the offensive and prevented him from cross­ing the Vistula. Meanwhile, the Czar, feeling that he must at least make a show of honouring his promise to Napoleon should Austria attack France, despatched a corps towards Lemberg. Now threatened from both sides, Ferdinand had to evacuate Warsaw and, by mid-June, had withdrawn to Opatoff. There followed a number of minor engagements, in which the for­tunes of both sides varied; but the Austrian army of thirty thousand continued to be tied up in distant Poland, so could not be brought to the assistance of the Archduke Charles.

Fortune had also deserted the Archduke John. After de­feating de Beauharnais and freeing the Tyrol, a large detach­ment he had sent into Dalmatia had been thoroughly defeated by the able Marshal Marmont. By then, de Beauharnais had called up considerable reinforcements and, after a series of conflicts, driven John out of Carinthia; from where he with­drew into Hungary. De Beauharnais had followed him up and, on June 14th, forced him, after a pitched batde outside the fortress of Rueb, to retire again. While retreating in the direction of Pressburg, die Archduke received an urgent sum­mons from his brother Charles, to join him outside Vienna before the seven-week armistice with the French expired. John's original force of fifty-three thousand men had by then been reduced to twenty thousand effectives, and he was a con­siderable distance from the capital; but he altered his line of march, hoping to arrive in time to participate in the great battle that was about to take place in the neighbourhood of Lobau.

In consequence, the Archduke Charles could dispose of only one hundred and thirty-five thousand men, as opposed to Napoleon's one hundred and seventy thousand. On the other hand, the French had to cross the arm of the Danube separat­ing the island from the mainland, then advance through Aspern-Essling and four miles of open country before they could attack the Austrians' major concentration, which occu­pied a ridge of hills where there stood the village of Wagram.

For some time past, with great labour, the Austrians had been throwing up very strong defences opposite the north shore of Lobau, as it was there, the river being at its narrowest, the French were expected to make their attempt to cross. But Napoleon had prepared a most effective deception plan.

On the night of July 4th, the French opened a terrific can­nonade directed at the Austrian trenches north of Lobau. Meanwhile, sufficient boats to form six bridges that had been kept under camouflage, were swiftly hooked together and swung into position from the cast end of the island, across the much broader channel to the mainland.

When the battle opened, a violent storm was raging. Forked lightning streaked down, and the crashes of thunder could not be distinguished from the roar of the bombardment. In tor­rents of rain the divisions of Oudinot and Massena streamed over the bridges. The Austrian earthworks were outflanked and rapidly evacuated, their defenders swiftly retiring to the ridge of hills. Dawn saw the whole French army deployed for battle on the mainland.

At midday, the French marched steadily forward and, in the afternoon, launched an attack in close columns on the heights held by the Austrians. But, by seven o'clock, they had been beaten back from Wagram with heavy losses. The battle was then broken off, to be renewed on the morning of the 6th.

The Archduke took the offensive, launching his right with such force that he drove Massena back on to Aspern. The Aus­trian centre then advanced, and several hours of most bloody conflict ensued, as the White-Coats gradually gained ground from the French. Realising the danger in which his army now stood of being driven into the river, the Emperor massed one hundred cannon, afterwards known as the 'Grand Battery', and, under its devastating fire, the Austrians' advance was checked. He then launched a solid column consisting of thirty thousand infantry and six thousand horse, under General Macdonald, against the enemy's centre. It gave, but did not break, and the Archduke might yet have emerged victorious, because his left wing was almost intact.

It was the brilliant Davoust who really saved the day. His corps had been allotted the task of preventing the Archduke John's army from arriving on the scene. On learning that battle had been joined, Davoust left only a light screen of troops to mislead the Archduke into believing that his way to Vienna was still barred, then hastened with the bulk of his corps to Napoleon's assistance. He arrived late in the afternoon, but in time to drive the Austrians from the village of Neusiedel, and so threw their left into confusion. At length the whole of the Archduke Charles' army was forced back from the heights of Wagram, although it retired in good order, and covered by a murderous artillery fire.

The Emperor naturally claimed Wagram as a great victory, but it was far from that. The Austrians had fought with splen­did heroism against much superior odds and, although they had lost twenty-four thousand men, they had accounted for eighteen thousand French. Moreover, they had fallen back as a still orderly and unbroken army. For two days, the French followed them up, but only feebly. Napoleon's army, now largely composed of teen-aged recruits, had sadly deteriorated. They had neither the stamina nor the elan of the hard-bitten troops who had fought at Marengo and Austerlitz. The Aus­trians had proved better soldiers and had covered themselves with glory. At Zneym, on the 12th, another armistice was agreed.

Roger had been lucky in the battle as, after the first great clash had occurred on the 5th and the French had been driven back, Napoleon had sent him post-haste to Vienna, to raise every small detachment he could from the scant garrison left there and bring them to the battlefield. He had worked all through the night, despatching cooks, clerks and storekeepers, who were of little value, out to Lobau, and himself had not returned until the terrible carnage on the 6th was nearly over.

To give greater credence to his proclamation of victory, Napoleon distributed a number of honours and awards. For the part Macdonald had played in leading the decisive charge, the Emperor gave him on the field his baton as a Marshal. A few days later, when the list was published, Roger learned that, for special services, he had been elevated to the Napo­leonic peerage, and was now Colonel Baron de Breuc.

That evening, as he did now and again for appearances' sake, he dined at his little house with Lisala. They had reached a state where they now hardly bothered to talk to each other. But he told her that he had been made a Baron.

Looking up from her plate, she fixed her huge eyes on his and asked, 'Will that mean an increase in your income?'

"Yes,' he told her. 'The Emperor always grants a life pen­sion to those he ennobles, in order that they may support the dignity to his credit.' With a cynical smile, he added, 'How­ever, it will not amount to a fortune, so you need not suppose that you will be able to increase greatly the blackmail you are already levying upon me.'

She shrugged. 'About such paltry sums I have now become indifferent. As well as clothes I desire jewels which I know that you are in no position to pay for. But I have rccendy been offered a means by which I can make a mint of money. I intend to run a brothel.'

Mission to Paris

Roger dropped his fork. 'Lisala! You cannot mean that!'

'Indeed I do. 'Tis, I am told, a most profitable occupation.'

'But. .. but... all else apart, you are one of the Empress' ladies.'

Lisala made a derisive gesture. 'Oh, Josephine! I am much wearied of dancing attendance on her. And, in any case, she is finished.'

'What mean you?'

'Surely you must have heard that the Emperor intends to put her from him?'

Roger had heard. Everyone had known for a long time past that Napoleon's dearest wish was to found a dynasty. Although Josephine had had two children by her earlier marriage, she had failed to give him one. He had, therefore, come to believe himself to be incapable of becoming a father. This belief had been invalidated when one of his many temporary mistresses, Elenora Denuelle, had borne him a son, about the identity of whose father there could be no possible shadow of doubt. It was this that, dearly as he had come to love Josephine, had first put into his mind the idea of divorcing her.

But if he was to take a new wife, nothing less could now satisfy him as a consort than a lady having the royal blood of one of the great hereditary ruling families. It was, therefore, not until the conference at Erfurt that he had disclosed his secret intention to anyone. There, as Roger and a few of Talley­rand's other intimates knew, Napoleon had contemplated ask­ing the Czar for the hand of his sister. Talleyrand, being strenu­ously opposed to a Russian alliance, had warned the Czar that the proposal was likely to be put forward; so, when Napoleon had broached the matter, Alexander had been ready to evade committing himself, by replying that the selection of a husband for his sister was entirely in the hands of her mother.

This feeler and polite rebuff had been whispered about only among a very limited circle; but recently there had been much more widely-spread rumours that, when Napoleon had con­quered Austria, he intended to ask, as part of the peace terms, to be given a Hapsburg Princess as a bride.

As one of Josephine's oldest and staunchest friends, Roger deplored the possibility that, for reasons of State, she might be deprived of the husband that she had come to love so deeply. But, knowing Talleyrand's pro-Austrian leanings, he saw the great statesman's hand in this. Abused and insulted by the Emperor as he had been six months earlier, he had re­gained considerable influence with him. And it could not be denied that a Franco-Austrian alliance fortified by an Imperial marriage would materially strengthen both countries.

Staring hard-eyed at Lisala, Roger said, 'Naturally, I am aware that certain people would like to see the Empress re­placed by a Hapsburg Princess; but Austria is far from having been conquered yet.'

Lisala shrugged. 'Whether Josephine stays or goes is all one to me. I intend to submit my resignation to her, and employ myself in more profitable activities.'

'But a brothel!' Roger cried. 'You seek only to shock and horrify me for your amusement. You cannot possibly really mean that you intend to run a brothel.'

'I do, and out of doing so I'll get even more amusement than seeing your face as it is at this moment. In brothels, as you must know...'

'I do not know,' he cut in harshly. 'I entered one only once, when I was in my teens, then fled from it in disgust.'

'Then I'll inform you. There are peepholes in the walls of all the rooms. Through them one can witness the peculiar games in which couples at times indulge. That will provide me with much entertainment. And, when I witness some gallant who performs with unusual vigour, I'll give him an assigna­tion to come another day and have me "on the house".'

'You . . . you vile creature!' Roger burst out. 'Undertake this foul enterprise, and I vow I'll burn the place down with you in it.'

'For that you will have no opportunity, as it will be neither here in Vienna nor in Paris.' 'Where then?' 'That is my affair.'

'Wherever it may be, I'll run you to earth. Yes, whatever it may cost me, I'll not submit to the ghastly humiliation of it becoming known that my wife is running a whorehouse. And it will become known. Satan has endowed you with too great a beauty for your identity not be bruited abroad in any city.'

'In that you are mistaken. I am as anxious as yourself to keep this matter secret. I intend, from time to time, to return and inflict my company on you. Now that I am a Baroness, I shall find Court functions more enjoyable than ever.'

'What you propose is impossible. From having been a mem­ber of the Court for above a year, your face is known to hun­dreds—nay, thousands of people. Inevitably some officer: French, German, Dutch, Italian, will visit your brothel, re­cognise you and tell others of your infamy.'

'Again you are wrong.' Lisala smiled and shook her head. *While exercising my profession I mean to wear a black velvet mask with a long fringe. My body is beautiful enough to tempt any man I desire, without his seeing my face. In fact, a mask will prove an added seduction for such encounters. And, should a lover of the moment be so imprudent as to tear it off, I'll drive my stiletto between his ribs.'

Roger could find no more to say. Short of killing her, there was no way in which he could prevent her carrying out her plan; and that he could not bring himself to do. Rising, he flung his glass of wine in her face, then left the room and the house.

That night, the little sleep he got was at an inn, and next morning he sent a message to Berthier that he was ill after having eaten bad fish. For three days he did not go out, and ceaselessly pondered the problem of what he could do about having been cursed with such a wife. To that he could find no answer. Even making off to England was no longer a fully satisfactory solution, as he could not bear the thought that if Lisala was found out, the fine name he had made for himself in the French Army would for ever be besmirched. He could only endeavour to comfort himself with the possibility that Lisala would succeed in remaining incognito while pandering to her insatiable lust for sexual excitement.

When he forced himself to return to Court, several people condoled with him on his wife's illness. Then Josephine spoke to him most kindly, regretting that Lisala had had to leave her on account of having been ordered by a doctor to take the waters at Baden-Baden. A good actor, as he had always been, Roger produced the reactions expected of him. That evening he returned to the little house, to find that most of Lisala's clothes were still there, but she had gone; so he sealed in again.

The armistice continued, but negotiations for a peace got no further, as the terms proposed by Napoleon were unaccept­able to the Emperor Francis.

Early in August, it was learned that the British had landed a strong force on the large island of Walcheren at the mouth of the Scheldt. Roger deplored this strategy both for timing and place. Had the landing been made six weeks earlier it could have enormously encouraged the Austrians to still greater efforts, and had it been made at Stralsund it could have incited the Prussian patriots to force their King into joining Austria in her war against France. As things were now, it seemed to be a grievous waste of effort, for he felt sore the Dutch would not rise against the Emperor, and knew the malarial swamps in the estuary of the Scheldt to be one of the most unsuitable places possible to form a bridgehead for an invasion of the Continent.

News then came in from Spain. The remnant of Soult's army had straggled back, without guns or baggage, into Galicia. There Ney's men had derided them as cowards and tem­pers flown so high that the two Marshals had been with diffi­culty prevented from fighting a duel. Meanwhile, Wellesley had turned speedily upon Victor. Realising his peril, the Mar­shal had swiftly retreated towards Madrid; but, on July 27th,

Wellesley, supported by a Spanish army, had brought him to bay at Talavera and inflicted a severe defeat upon him.

In the middle of August, Lisala returned to Vienna for a few days. Roger refused to speak to her, and took his meals out. She made no attempt to be received again at the Palace and, having collected a few more of her clothes, disappeared again.

On the 25th, the Emperor called Roger into his Cabinet and said, 'Breuc, I am much disturbed about what is happen­ing in France. I have received intelligence that, in my absence, Fouche has assumed the powers of a dictator. Proceed to Paris at once, return as soon as possible, and report to me what is going on there.'

Taking to horse with a minimum of delay, Roger set out and reached Paris in nine days. After refreshing himself at La Belle Etoile, he went straight to the Ministry of the In­terior, where the Minister received him within ten minutes of his having sent in his name.

When Roger had explained the object of his mission, Fouche, sniffling as usual, began, 'Mon cher Baron, let me . . .'

'So you know that I have been elevated to the nobility?' Roger cut in with a smile.

Fouche's corpse-like face twisted into what for him was the semblance of a grin. ‘I knew weeks ago. Very little that goes on in Europe escapes my agents. I even have a flotilla of boats patrolling the sea from the Pyrenees to the Baltic; so that I am informed of most of the smuggling operations permitted by our administrators in order to line their own pockets. But my congratulations. And, now, as I was about to say:

'On July 29th, forty British ships of the line, thirty frigates, eighty sloops and four to five hundred transports appeared off the mouth of the Scheldt. They landed forty thousand men and one hundred and fifty cannon on the island of Walcheron. It was evident that their intention was to incite a re­bellion in brother Louis' Kingdom of Holland. About that I was little worried, as my people had long since dealt with all subversive elements there. The English succeeded in swiftly subduing Middleburg and, by August 15th, the defences of Flushing. One could then deduce that their next step would be to attack our important base of Antwerp, as the English have always regarded it as a pistol pointed against their heads.

'That did concern us somewhat here in Paris, because many of the people in those parts still feel a loyalty to Austria, to which, up till recent times, the Belgian Netherlands belonged. Moreover, the majority of them are Catholics. A revolution in those parts, similar to that which has taken place in Spain, could have proved most embarrassing, particularly as our regu­lar forces there were almost non-existent.

'A Grand Council was called to debate the situation. Cambaceres, as the nominal head of the Government during the Emperor's absence, took the chair. No-one had any sugges­tions to offer except Decres, who proposed that we should call up the citizen militia, as we did in the old days of the Re­volution.

'The others quailed at the idea of taking such an unortho­dox step without the Emperor's sanction. But I felt that a certain use might be made of it. Next day, my Ministerial colleagues learned to their horror that I had overridden their authority and called up the National Guard in fifteen. Depart­ments. I went further. I circulated a letter to the Prefects and Mayors, which ran:

' "Show Europe that even if Napoleon's genius may lend splendour to France, yet his presence is not indispensable to repulse her enemies."'

Roger gave a sigh of admiration. 'The devil you did! That was a bold stroke indeed. But the Emperor may well call you to account for it.'

'He may.' Fouche gave a little snigger. 'But I doubt it. He has always been a trifle frightened of me; yet has found me too valuable to dispense with. In any case, I have sent out my message to the people of France. Should their Emperor fall by the wayside, they can rely upon me to take the reins of Government firmly into my hands.'

'Monsieur le Ministre, you have my utmost admiration,' Roger declared with a smile. 'I will return and report to His Imperial Majesty that, when others feared to act, you took steps to defend France which you believe he would have taken himself had he been in Paris.'

They parted most cordially, and late on the evening of Sep­tember 13th, Roger arrived back at Schonbrunn. Two hours later, the Emperor received him, and he made his report.

When he had done, Napoleon grunted, then remarked, 'I know that you have always disliked Fouche; so are not attempt­ing to excuse his faults. But he has acted in a most arbitrary fashion.'

"Tis true, Sire, that I have a "personal antipathy to the man,' Roger replied promptly, 'but that does not detract from my admiration of the manner in which he has served Your Majesty. He has uncovered several conspiracies that might have cost you your life; succeeded in subduing those trouble­some Breton Chouans, who for yean all the Generals you sent failed to quell; and now, by taking it on himself to contain the English in their bridgehead, he has spared Your Majesty the necessity of sending considerable bodies of your regular troops to Flanders.'

'True; true! He is a slippery devil, but no-one can ques­tion his efficiency. And, in many matters he has served me admirably. Now I know how matters stand, I'll let them rest. Here we make no progress; the Emperor Francis is proving as stubborn as a mule.'

'Since things are at a standstill, Sir,' Roger hazarded, 'may I crave a few days' rest? I rode monstrous hard to Paris and back, and I am desperately fatigued.'

The Emperor stopped his pacing up and down, smiled at Roger and twisted his ear. 'You may, Breuc Few of my cour­iers can match the speed with which you travel, and there is now little to do. Take a week or two if you wish.'

Roger had already handed over his mount at the Palace stable to be at once rubbed down, watered and fed; so he walked the short distance across the Park to his little house. When he reached it, he saw with some surprise chinks of light coming from between the curtains of the window of the lar­gest bedroom. Evidently Lisala had returned on another visit.

Tired as he was, the last thing he wanted was another acri­monious discussion with her. That could well occur if he roused the house and, as it was close on midnight, he knew that the front door would be bolted.

It then occurred to him that as he had dudes which often kept him late at the Palace, he had given his man instructions that, as he hated stuffiness, the window of his bedroom was always to be left a link open. Going round to the back of the house, he quietly climbed up the iron trellis work to the bal­cony, tiptoed along it and got through the window into his room.

Lighting the candles, he wearily undressed. Then he no­ticed that, since he had not been expected, his man had not laid out a nightshirt for him. His underclothes were kept on shelves in the clothes closet. Still anxious to get to bed with­out Lisala's coming in to talk to him, he opened the door very quietly. A streak of light two inches wide at the far side of the closet showed that Lisala had left her door to it ajar. As he stretched out his hand to pick up a nightshirt, he caught the sound of voices. Lisala evidently had someone in bed with her.

Death on the Rhine

Roger was more thankful than ever now that he had not made his return known. Had he done so, and Lisala's lover failed to dress and get away by the verandah in time, he would have been under the unpleasant necessity of calling him out; and it would have annoyed him greatly to have to fight a duel over a woman whom he now detested.

However, curiosity to know if he could identify his wife's latest lover by his voice led him to take a step nearer the door of her room. Breathing very lightly, he listened to their con­versation.

It was at once obvious that they were not making love. On the contrary, they were quarrelling. The first words of Lisala's which he caught were:

'How can you expect wealthy men to frequent such a place? As I told you after I first saw it, I was greatly disappointed. You must at least do up the salon where visitors are received and take their refreshments.'

The man replied, 'The place was doing good business when I took it over; and, at the moment, I cannot afford to pay for expensive decorations.'

Roger recognised the voice, but could not place its owner. Lisala resumed fretfully, 'And the girls! Fat, frumpy Ger­man madchen. What man of taste would wish to go to bed with such cattle?'

They are at least good strong animal material, and could satisfy a dozen men a night if called on to do so.'

That is not the point. They have no finesse. They have never been trained to pander to unusual tastes. What we need are some pretty young French girls.'

It was obvious to Roger that they were discussing Lisala's brothel, and that the man who was with her had put up the capital for it. In a surly voice, he retorted, 'In cities like Mayence, it is impossible to procure the really attractive type of whore that you have in mind; and I am being ruined by the taxes, so have not the money to import them from abroad '

'Money,' Lisala sighed. 'If only this cursed war would end. My estates in Portugal are worth a great fortune. If I could but get even a small part of my revenues, I would renounce my status as a great lady and we'd run a bordello in Paris that would be the finest in the world.'

'I am in much the same situation,' the man replied. 'Given peace I could bring over from England enough money to buy even the services of certain ladies of the Court known for their licentiousness; provided they were allowed, as you do, to dis­port themselves masked.'

'How so?' Lisala asked. 'Methought all the money went to the young Earl, and he would see you in hell before providing you with a centime.'

Roger drew in a sharp breath. The man with Lisala could only be Ulrich von Haugwitz. He, in turn, was speaking now-

'No. Charles has a fine estate, White Knights Park, in Wor­cestershire, and also a mansion in Berkeley Square. But Geor­gina is very wealthy in her own right. She owns a great house named Stillwaters, near Ripley, and her old father is exceed­ingly rich. As she is an only child, when he dies his fortune, too, will come to her.'