The Ravishing of Lady Jane Ware

1

WANTED FOR MURDER

Ultimately, they were both anxious to get back to England Roger to escape Napoleon's police, and Georgina to rejoin young Charles, her dearly loved son by her second husband, the Earl of St. Ermins. But, although Roger had had himself smuggled many times across the Channel and the North Sea, he doubted his ability to do so with a woman companion, and was greatly averse to exposing her to such a risk.

An alternative occurred to him, owing to the fact that no great while since Georgina had had a brief but passionate affair with the Archduke John, youngest brother of the Emperor Francis of Austria. Hostilities in the war of the Third Coalition had temporarily ceased in July by France and Austria agreeing an armistice, which still continued. Meanwhile, Austria maintained diplomatic relations with her ally, Britain. Therefore, the Archduke was in a position to secure Georgina's safe passage to England, escorted by a diplomatic courier. So it had been decided that Roger should take her to the Austrian headquarters at Pressburg and, having handed her over to the Archduke, make his own way home.

They were now rediscussing the matter. Having laid aside the news sheet that gave them the welcome tidings that their marriages were at an end, Roger said:

'For me this means that I no longer have to go into hiding from the French; but for you, my sweet, it makes only the difference that I can escort you openly to Pressburg, so be certain of getting you there safely and more swiftly. The good offices of your dear friend John remain the best method of conveying you back to England.'

Georgina nodded, her dark curls stirring slightly on either side of her rosy cheeks. 'I think you right; though I regret that our parting should now be the sooner. I had looked forward to our making a long, circuitous journey together, with a spice of danger and many joyous nights spent at wayside inns. But what of yourself. Now that you no longer have anything to fear, do you intend to rejoin the Emperor?'

'That depends on yourself,' he replied, his bright blue eyes holding hers intently. 'Do you at long last agree to marry me; wild horses will not stop me from joining you in England with all speed imaginable?'

^! Oh, Roger!' she protested. 'We have talked of this so often through the years, and always reached the same conclusion. Our joy in sleeping together has never lessened since we first became lovers as boy and girl. But solely because fate decreed that we could share a bed only for brief periods, at long intervals. You have ever been the dearest person in my life, and so will ever remain; but had we married, our mutual passion would long since have waned, and we'd be no more than a humdrum couple approaching middle age.'

'Ah, but that is just the point! I grant you that with our virile natures and lust for life, had we married when young we might, after a few years, have become satiated with each other and sought pastures new, or thwarted our instincts and settled into a dreary, joyless domesticity. But we are older now. Both of us have sown our wild oats, and far more abundantly than most. To my daughter, Susan, you have for many years played the part of a sweet and devoted mother. But your boy, Charles, needs a father to bring him up and who better than myself? 'Tis time that we put casual lechery behind us and entered on the quieter joys of life.'

For a long time Georgina was silent, then she said, 'You are right that Charles needs a father. How wrong I was to imagine that brute, Ulrich, would fill the role. And no one could make a proper man of Charles more surely than yourself. I agree, too, that I have had my fill of lovers. How lucky I've been in that: a score or more of men, all handsome and distinguished. But now I feel the time has come when I could be a faithful wife. I make no promise, Roger dear; but before we part at Pressburg I'll think seriously on it.'

'Bless you for that, my love,' he smiled, as he refilled her glass with the golden wine.

When she had drunk, she asked, 'Should I decide against letting you make an honest woman of me what then?'

He shrugged. 'I hardly know. I've been monstrous fortunate in that, during seventeen years of war, I have had many narrow escapes from death. But, on the law of averages, such luck cannot last indefinitely, and I'm much averse to throwing my life away on yet another of the Emperor's battlefields. On the other hand, I am much tempted to stay on with him, so that I may witness the final act of the drama he has brought upon the world.'

'Me seems then that, should you survive, by the time you come tottering home the grey hair above your ears that now gives you such a dashing look will have spread to cover your whole head. England will never make peace with Bonaparte, and he is now more powerful than ever before.

'Most people suppose so. And with some reason, as his word is now law from southern Italy to the Baltic Sea and, except for severely wounded Austria, from the Atlantic coast to the borders of Turkey. Russia alone on the Continent of Europe retains her independence; but she is his ally. So, on the face of things, it does now appear that his position is impregnable. Yet it is well said that "all is not gold that glitters."

'No man is more greatly hated. There is not one of that horde of subject Kings and Princes who fawn upon him wherever he holds his Court, who would not, given half a chance, knife him in the back. For the moment they are tied to his chariot wheels and forced to send their troops to fight and die in his campaigns, because all the fortresses in their countries are garrisoned by French troops. Moreover, his demands on them for contributions to his war chest are insatiable. He is sucking their countries dry. A time must come when their people will revolt against this terrible drain upon their manhood and the intolerable burden of taxation.

'That has already happened in Spain, and it will in other countries. Enormous as his army is, he'll not have enough troops to hold them all down. This vast Empire he has created is a house built on sand. Does he make one false move, and it will collapse about his ears.

'He is, too, not only faced with this danger from without, but also a swiftly growing canker in the very heart of his Empire. His personal magnetism is immense, so that whenever he appears, his own people are still hypnotized into giving him a great ovation. But no sooner has he turned his back than they now curse him below their breath. There is not a family in France that has not lost a father, a husband or a son in his wars. In every city, town and village, one cannot walk a hundred yards without seeing an exsoldier who has lost an arm, a leg, or is blind. He has bled the manhood of France white, and is now scraping the bottom of the barrel by calling to the colours boys of sixteen.

'Time was when, as the Paladin of the Revolution and new Freedom, he was defending France from invasion. Then the people gloried in his victories; but, in recent years, they have come to realise that all the terrible sacrifices they are making can bring no benefit to France and that the wars he wages are solely for his own aggrandizement. Even his own troops are losing faith in him. Europe now swarms with French deserters. They can be numbered by tens of thousands.'

Roger paused for a moment to finish his wine, then went on, 'And that is not all. Realising the desperate straits to which he has reduced their nation, many of his most trusted lieutenants have secretly turned against him.

All but a few of his Marshals are utterly sickened by his endless wars. They long for peace, so that they may return to France, live on the great estates he has given them and enjoy the vast fortunes they have acquired by looting the wealth of a dozen countries. Given a lead, they would betray him.

'And that lead will come. The two most powerful men in France are Talleyrand and Fouche. As you well know, the former has been my close friend since my first years in France, while the latter, who at one time was my most bitter enemy, agreed with me to let bygones be bygones at the time of Brumaire. Up till that time they, too, were enemies; but it was I who brought them together and, between them, it was they who made possible the success of the coup d'etat that raised Bonaparte to First Consul and Dictator. Now, as they have both told me, they are again leagued together, and have vowed to bring Napoleon down.'

Roger had been so engrossed in what he was saying and Georgina in listening to him, that neither of them had consciously heeded the clatter on the pave of a number of rapidly approaching horses. A moment later a small cavalcade came into view. It consisted of a large traveling coach escorted by a troop of French Hussars.

The coach came to a halt in front of the low terrace of the inn, immediately opposite the place where Roger and Georgina were sitting. The door swung open, and a tall, lean officer jumped out. He was clad in the resplendent uniform of a Marshal of the Empire. Above the gleaming black, gold tasseled Hessian boots and white doeskin breeches, the blue tail coat was heavily embellished with gold braid. His chest was a blaze of diamond studded decorations. Above his hawk like face his cocked hat carried waving ostrich feathers a foot high. As he glanced up, Roger instantly recognised him as Pierre Augereau, Due de Castiglione.

Recognition was mutual. Staring at Roger in amazement, the Marshal exclaimed:

'Blood of my guts! What in the devil's name are you doing here, Breuc, taking your ease with your woman? Why are you not making the ground fly beneath a horse's hooves? Do you not realise that the authorities are after you for murder?'

2

The Gamin Marshal

Roger had come to his feet. Staring down at the tall Marshal, he exclaimed, 'Murder! I have committed no murder.'

'Should you be brought to trial by the Prussian authorities, you'll be hard put to it to prove you have not,' Augereau retorted.

Picking up the news sheet from the table, Roger said, 'I take it you refer to this the deaths of the Baron von Haugwitz and my wife?'

'What else? All Coblenz is agog with it. Last night in the Mess at headquarters, they did naught but make wagers on whether or not you would get away.'

'They were not murdered,' Roger insisted firmly, 'They met their deaths by accident.'

'You say so; but what other interpretation can be put upon the facts? The servants declare that you were having an affaire with the Baron's wife.' Belatedly, Augereau lifted his plumed hat to Georgina, as he added, 'and as tempting a piece as a man could wish to see. For that who could blame you? But 'tis another matter when you make off with her and, within a few hours, her husband and your own wife are found to be corpses. It stares one in the face that, fearing the Baron would put the police on your track and have them bring his wife back, before leaving you to decide to make certain of keeping her by taking his life. How otherwise could it have come about that his body and that of your wife were found hidden at the bottom, of a wine press? There is evidence enough that they, too were having an affaire; but both, it emerges had their own rooms, so could have bounced each other in the bed of either. Who could conceivably believe that instead they elected to have a romp in a wine press, and both walked downstairs stark naked for the purpose?'

To that, Marshal, I can offer no explanation,' Roger declared. I can only assert that when the Frau Baronln and I read this news sheet a few hours ago, we were utterly amazed by its contents. Upon that I give you my oath. Naturally, we had expected that, as soon as von Haugwitz learned of our flight he would take such steps as lie could to get back his wife; and had we been caught on the far side of the Rhine, I would have been, compelled to give her up. That is why, as soon as we possibly could, we crossed into French territory, where the Prussian authorities have no jurisdiction.'

'You are right that they have none in civil matters. And, had things been as you say you supposed them to be, von Haugwitz would have been powerless to prevent your getting away with his Baroness. But you are wanted on the criminal charge that you murdered him and your wife. By now the Prussians will have applied to the French authorities for your apprehension and extradition. It was believing you must realise that which caused me such amazement to come upon you placidly sitting there enjoying the autumn sunshine.'

Roger's face had become grim and he said, I'll admit that the marriages of both the Baroness and myself were most unhappy. In the circumstances this morning’s news that we were free of them came as a relief. Since receiving it we have thought of little else, so the possible consequences to us of this tragedy had not entered my mind.

But I see now that our situation may soon become a desperate one.'

While they had been talking, the escort had dismounted and were helping an ostler, who had run out of the stable yard, to change the horses drawing the coach. From its far side, an A.D.G. had emerged, run up the steps to the terrace and was shouting to the waiter to bring a bottle of the best wine.

Augereau now followed him and, his great, gold hilted sabre clanking on the stones came striding toward Roger's table. Roger presented the Marshal to Georgina and, as he bowed over her hand, said quickly, 'In view of what you tell me, Marshal, you'll excuse us if we leave at once. Fortunately, the few things we have with us are already packed, as we had intended to set off after an early midday meal.'

Augereau waved him back to his seat. 'You have no need to bust your guts now. D'you think I'd stand by and let your handsome head be lopped off because you've given the conge to some pissing German Baron? The Emperor would never forgive me, let alone the Army that speaks of you as "le brave Breuc". Nay, I'll take you both with me, and under my protection you can spit in the eye of any official who attempts to detain you. All Europe knows well enough that anyone who interferes with Pierre Augereau courts death.'

In that he made no idle boast. Augereau was the most redoubtable swordsman in the whole of the Grand Army. Even Roger, who was also renowned for his swordplay, would not have dared challenge him to a duel. He had killed scores of men and, given the least provocation, never thought twice before drawing his sword and driving it through a man's body.

With a sigh of relief, Roger exclaimed, 'Indeed, Marshal, for this generous act the Baroness and I will forever be your debtors!'

Georgina, who spoke French fluently, had followed the whole conversation. Smiling up at Augereau, she said, 'Fortune has truly smiled on us in sending you here at this moment, Monseigneur le Duc, I would not take the Emperor himself in exchange for you as our protector.'

Returning her smile, he casually chucked her under the chin, and replied, 'De Breuc asserts that he did not kill your husband; but I would have for the chance of playing his part with such a peach as you, Madame.'

The A.D.C. had joined them and Augereau introduced him as Colonel Laborde. At that moment the waiter hurried up with two bottles of wine, and glasses. Instead of waiting for the wine to be poured, the Marshal took one of the bottles, put the neck to his mouth, tilted it and swallowed half the contents without drawing breath. Setting the bottle down, he gave a gasp, licked his lips and said:

'Ah! That's better; it's laid some of the dust from these infernal roads. Now, I have no time to lose. I halted only to change horses and give my men a chance to quench their thirsts. In five minutes we must be on our way. Go now, collect your baggage and pay your score as swiftly as you can.'

As Roger and Georgina had left Schloss Langenstein on the pretext that they were driving into Frankfurt only for the day, he had had to leave all his things behind; while she had with her only two medium sized valises. The Baron's steward had believed that they contained silver articles her husband had asked her to take into Frankfurt to be valued by a goldsmith. Actually, she had packed in them her jewels, toilet things and a few underclothes. The waiter fetched them down, Roger paid his bill and, with Augereau and Laborde, they got into the big coach. At a sharp order from a sergeant, the escort mounted; and, with a clatter and a jingle, they were off, Augereau had told them that he was on his way to

Paris, so their route lay through Trier, Luxembourg, Longwy, Rheims and Chateau Thierry. As the crow flies the distance was only some two hundred and fifty miles, but the roads were far from being direct highways from city to city, and this applied particularly to the road that ran alongside the Moselle. Between Coblenz and Trier, it not only followed over two dozen great bends but, in places, actually ran back for several miles in the direction from which it had come; so, with other divergences they would have to travel close on five hundred miles before they reached Paris.

The events of the morning had forced Roger to abandon his intention of taking Georgina to Pressburg; and, when they got to Paris, having her with him there would raise new and difficult problems. But, in the meantime, Augereau's having given them his protection was a piece of miraculous good fortune.

The road they were traveling could not have been more picturesque. Alternately, as the smooth flowing river curved for mile after mile through the corkscrew valley, on one bank there were lush water meadows where cattle grazed in the autumn sunshine, on the other sleep hills covered with tali vines, among which the colourfully clad peasants were gathering the grapes.

Moreover, Augereau proved a most entertaining companion. As a child he had been a gamin playing in the Paris gutters. He was still a gamin: shrewd, resourceful, contemptuous of the laws of both God and man, full of the lust of life, foul tongued and bawdy minded. Within a quarter of an hour he was telling stories that would have turned the cheeks of most women scarlet and, as he did so, he watched Georgina with cynical amusement. But she listened unabashed, then after a while bested him by remarking quietly:

'Monseigneur le Due, I would find your stories even more amusing if, when telling them, you made your point without using words that are offensive to well bred people.'

Unused to being rebuked, he stared at her with a frown, then he gave a great guffaw of laughter and cried:

'God's boots! You are a woman in a thousand. Madame, for baiting you as I did I freely apologise and for the future, while in your presence, will endeavour to remember to call a spade a garden implement.'

That night they slept at Berncastle, dined and wined off the best and went up to bed tired but cheerful. Before they fell asleep, Roger told Georgina something of their rumbustious protector's extraordinary history.

At a very early age he had got himself a job as junior footman to a Marquis, but had been dismissed for seducing the Marquise's personal maid. His next job had been as a waiter in a gaming house, but he had lost that through seducing a waitress. He had then enlisted in the cavalry, but had been discharged for insubordination. However, a Colonel of Carabinieres had been attracted by his splendid physique and taken him into his regiment. He proved an excellent trooper, a good companion and, before long, had acquired a reputation as the finest swordsman in King Louis XVI's Household Brigade. As, by nature, he was intensely quarrelsome, that had led to his fighting a dozen duels. He had never been worsted and most of these encounters had ended in the death of his opponent.

His days in the old Army had ended abruptly. A young officer had struck him with his cane while on parade. Augereau flicked the cane away. The foolish youth drew his sword. Augereau's blade came out like a streak of lightning and, a second later, six inches of it were sticking out behind the officer's back. Before Augereau could be seized, he was galloping off to Switzerland on a stolen horse.

From Switzerland he made his way to Constantinople as a peddler of watches. Turkey then being at war with Russia, he decided to enlist in the Russian Army, and served under Catherine the Great's famous General, Suvarov. But he found his Russian comrades uncongenial, so he deserted and made his way north through Poland to Prussia. There he was accepted into Frederick the Great's crack regiment, the Prussian Guards, Soon afterwards, to his indignation, in a fit of pique Frederick decreed that no Frenchman in his service should receive reward or promotion; so Augereau again decided to desert.

But to do so from the Prussian Army was a far more risky proceeding than from the Russian. So, for his own protection, he secretly persuaded no fewer than sixty of his comrades to desert with him. Leading this band of desperados, he had fought his way out of Prussia into Saxony.

Having had his fill for a while of military life he then became a dancing master and, in due course, wandered down to Athens. From there he travelled to Lisbon where he was imprisoned for enthusiastically acclaiming the Revolution that was about to sweep the Monarchy away in France. A sea captain secured his release and, at long last, he returned to his own country. There he joined a battalion of Revolutionary Volunteers in the Vendee. He proved such an excellent leader that he was enthusiastically elected chef de bataillon.

That was in '92, and from then on his promotion was rapid. The following year he was commanding a division in the Pyrenees, and in '96 he was one of the three divisional commanders of the Army of Italy when Napoleon arrived from Paris to take it over.

In that amazing campaign he did more than cover himself with glory. During this time there occurred one of the very few occasions on which Napoleon lost his head. The ragged Army of the Republic was greatly outnumbered by Austrians and Sardinians and partially surrounded. Retreat could have proved disastrous, yet to attack the Austrians up on the heights of Castiglione appeared equally dangerous. Napoleon could not make up his mind which to do; so Augereau took charge, stormed the heights and won a great victory.

He was no strategist but a brilliant tactician, and always had his divisions in the right place at the right time. He was utterly fearless and, like Ney, Lannes and Murat, was a frontline commander who always personally led his men into battle. Although he was a strict disciplinarian, he never tired of looking after their welfare, so they adored him.

In spite of the fact that he was now a Duke, with great estates and a huge fortune piled up by wholesale looting in a dozen countries, he was at heart still a revolutionary and atheist; and he lost no opportunity of treading on the toes of the returned émigrés whom in recent years Napoleon had been welcoming to his Court, or showing his contempt for everything connected with religion.

Such was the strange, forceful, unscrupulous, gay, greedy man in whose company Roger and Georgina spent the next five days. On October 1st they arrived in Paris and, with heartfelt thanks for his most timely protection, took leave of the Marshal Duke after drinking a last bottle with him in his great Paris mansion.

From there Roger took Georgina to his old haunt, La Belle Etoile, not far from the Louvre. Long ago, in the days before the Revolution, as a youth and the secretary of a wealthy Marquis, Roger had lived at the hostelry. The patron, Monsieur Blanchard, and his wife were an honest Norman couple. They had sheltered Roger during the Terror and seen him rise in Napoleon's service to fame and honour.

Although for many years past Roger could have afforded better accommodation, whenever he was in Paris he always stayed at their inn. Up in the attic they kept for him a big trunk containing a considerable variety of civilian clothes, and a reserve of money.

It had become a custom that, whenever Roger arrived in Paris, on his first night there he should dine with the Blanchards in their parlour. Now, having been presented to Georgina, they realised at once that she was a great lady and hesitated to invite her to share a meal. But Roger swept away their diffidence by saying that he had told her with such gusto about duck cooked in the Norman fashion that, all the way to Paris, she had been looking forward to this specialty of Madame Blanchard's.

A few hours later, rested and refreshed, Roger and Georgina were happily dispatching a pair of fine ducks with their host and hostess; and washing them down with a good vintage Burgundy. Innkeepers have their fingers more firmly than other men on the pulse of public opinion and Roger never failed to get a sound assessment of feeling in Paris from Maitre Blanchard. When asked about it now, he replied:

'Monsieur le Colonel Baron, I cannot complain. There is plenty of money about and no lack of food to be had at reasonable prices. But the people are not happy. In the bad old days, when the churches had been turned into gaming hells and brothels, the populace were half starving and the city one great slum, but at least the citizens did not lack joie de vivre. As the ragged bands of volunteers marched to defend France from the armies of the Kings who would have crushed the Revolution, they laughed and sang. Later, as you will know, when the news used to come in of victory after victory gained by the "Little Corporal", we had good reason to cheer and, whenever he came to Paris, the people went wild with excitement. But that is so no longer.

'Apart from that short break in 1803, we've been at war for seventeen years. And what good has it done us? Saving your presence, it is no doubt a wonderful experience for the Emperor, his Marshals and high officers like yourself to ride in triumph into Milan, Berlin, Vienna, Madrid and all those other cities. But, for all but a few, these great campaigns mean death, to be crippled for life or, at best, years at a stretch marching with heavy equipment, along endless roads, living in great discomfort, often existing only on vegetables stolen from some wretched peasant's garden and, above all, separated from those they love.

'Time was when my wife and I used to think that Le Bon Dieu had treated us harshly by denying us sons. Today we thank Him that He did not. By now they would be dead, handicapped by some awful injury or far away with but only half a chance of our ever seeing them again.

'For two years past a great part of the drafts to the colours have been made up of youngsters who should still be finishing their schooling, instead of being sent to fight and kill their fellow men. And even the supply of these is drying up.

'Yet, on the Emperor's return to Paris, he insisted that the gaps in his armies must be filled. For the purpose he ordered Marshal Moncey to take special measures. As you must know, deserters have become legion. No one reproaches them any more. On the contrary, everyone helps them to get back to their homes, or hides them and gives them work to do at night. Now they are being flushed out by the thousand. In every city, town and village throughout France, Moncey's gendarmes are carrying out house to house searches, and thrusting their bayonets 'into the hay in the barns. Every man between the age of sixteen and sixty has to give a satisfactory account of himself. If he can't, he gets a brutal beating and is dragged off to the nearest barracks. Can you wonder that people no longer cheer the Emperor, and that many wish him dead?'

The duck was followed by a flaming omelette au rhum, and they rounded the meal off with pre-Revolution Calvados. When they went up to bed, Georgina having every confidence in Roger's ability to take care of her, was tired but happy. He, on the other hand, although their cheerful evening with the Blanchards had caused him for the moment to put aside thoughts of the future, was far from being so.

The mysterious deaths of von Haugwitz and Lisala were so sensational that the story might already have reached Paris. In any case, it was certain that when the voluble Augereau paid his respects to the Emperor he would give him an account of the affair. What view he would take of it was quite unpredictable. Napoleon justifiably prided himself upon being a great law giver and, provided it did not conflict with his own interests, was a great stickler for the law being carried out.

When Roger reported for duty, as he must the following day, he felt sure that the Emperor would question him about his doings at Schloss Langenstein. If he insisted on his innocence, Napoleon might well decree that he must be sent back to stand his trial. On the other hand, the case against him being so black, the Emperor, who was notoriously indulgent of faults committed by his old friends, might, if told the truth, rather than expose le brave Breuc to the risk of being condemned and executed, decide to deal with the matter himself. Yet, if he did, as Roger's victim had been the Prussian Chief Minister's brother, he might feel it politic to appease the wrath of his Prussian allies by sentencing Roger to a year's imprisonment in a fortress.

And, should that be the outcome, what would become of Georgina? Gone would be all chance of getting her to England. Still worse, apart from the Blanchards, she would be friendless in Paris and, although they had told Augereau and his A.D.C. that she was Dutch by birth, she might at any time run into someone who had known her on one of her earlier visits to Paris, when France and England were not at war.

If that happened, things could go very badly indeed for her. After the brief Peace of Amiens in 1802, Napoleon had horrified the world by initiating an entirely new measure against nations with whom he was at war. Previously, hostilities had been confined to armies and navies; civilians living in enemy countries had been regarded as harmless and were never interfered with. But the 'Corsican brigand' held in contempt ancient customs dictated by chivalry. He had decreed that all British citizens resident in France should be seized and thrown into concentration camps.

For a while, as Roger lay in bed with Georgina curled up and sleeping peacefully beside him, he contemplated leaving Paris with her the following morning and going into hiding in some small village on the coast, until an opportunity came for him to attempt to smuggle her over to England.

But it was certain that the swashbuckling Augereau would tell the Emperor that he had brought Roger to Paris and, if he failed to present himself at the Tuileries, he would be promptly sent for. When it was learned that he had disappeared, Napoleon would be furious, have him posted as a deserter, and half the police in France would be put on to hunt him down. With only a few hours' start, his chance of getting away for good would be extremely slender. On his own, he might have managed it, but not with a strikingly beautiful companion like Georgina.

Filled with miserable thoughts about what the morrow might bring, he at last dropped off to sleep.

3

The Forged Letter

After a bad night Roger woke early and again wrestled with the problems of how he could protect Georgina and save himself. Eventually he decided that his best hope lay in consulting his old friend, the wily Talleyrand. So, at nine o'clock, clad in his brilliant uniform, he had himself carried in a sedan to the Prince de Benevento's splendid mansion in the Rue du Bac.

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Perigord came from one of the most ancient families in France. The neglect of an injury he had sustained when young had caused him to become permanently lame, and so unfitted to enter on a military career, with the result that his father had forced him, against his will, to go into the Church. Handsome, charming, witty, at the Court of Versailles he had seduced innumerable beautiful women, and became known as the Abbe de Coeur. When the Revolution erupted he was Bishop of Autun, but had strong liberal convictions, so he had abandoned the Church and played a leading part in opposing the continuance of an absolute Monarchy. The Terror had forced him to go into exile in America, but during the Directory he returned, and started his career as a great statesman by advising on foreign policy. He had been swift to recognize in young General Bonaparte a potential force for restoring France from the destitution and chaos into which she had fallen, and had planned the coup d'etat that had raised Bonaparte to First Consul.

For the eight years that followed, he had been using his great talents most successfully as Foreign Minister. He was venal, licentious and unscrupulous and had amassed a great fortune by taking bribes from foreign Ambassadors; but, above all, he was a patriot. As time went on he realised that Napoleon, having earlier restored France to order and prosperity, had begun to ruin her by his ceaseless wars; so, in 1807, he had resigned his portfolio in order to be free to work secretly for the Emperor's downfall. But, such was the fascination that he held for Napoleon that the Emperor still continued to consult him, although rarely now taking his advice. On his retirement he had been made Vice Grand Elector, one of the great dignities of the Empire, shared only by Napoleon's brothers, his brother-in-law Marshal Murat, now King of Naples, and Cambaceres, once Second Consul and now Arch-Chancellor.

He had always held the belief that there could be no lasting peace and prosperity in Europe until the two great protagonists, France and Britain, buried the hatchet once and for all. He had learned as far back as 1787 that Roger was in fact an Englishman, but kept his secret because their minds were as one, and he believed a time might come when Roger could prove a valuable link between their two countries.

Even way back in '96, when he had returned from America and Paris was still seething with ex-sans-culottes sworn to maintain the doctrines of the Revolution, he had boldly reassumed his status as a great noble, dressed fastidiously in the finest silks and lace ruffles, and wore his hair powdered.

Roger knew that it had long been Talleyrand's custom to give frequent lavish breakfasts at which he entertained the great men of the Empire; so it was no surprise when he arrived in the Rue du Bac to find half a dozen men holding high office, all of whom were known to him, assembled there. Leaning slightly on his diamond-studded Malacca, the elegant Talleyrand limped forward, welcomed Roger most amiably and insisted that he join them for breakfast.

Among the guests were Gaudin, Napoleon's brilliant Minister of Finance, who had miraculously lifted France out of her state of bankruptcy in 1800; Decres, the able Minister of Marine, who was engaged in a vast building programme to replace the French battle fleet, almost entirely destroyed at Trafalgar; and Marshal Bernadotte. To Roger the last was of most interest, as he knew him only slightly, although he had heard a lot about him.

Charles Jean Bernadotte was the son of a lawyer, and a Gascon of Gascons, He was a fine, tall, handsome man and, to the Emperor's annoyance, defied the prevailing fashion by continuing to wear his hair long. That was far from the only way in which he had annoyed Napoleon,

In '96, towards the end of Bonaparte's first great campaign, Augereau had been sent off to command the Army of the Rhine, and his division was replaced by that of Bernadotte. The soldiers of the Army of Italy were ragged sans-culottes; those of the Rhine old regulars who were, by comparison, gentlemen. The latter regarded the Revolution as over and, instead of addressing one another as 'citizen' had reverted to the use of 'monsieur'. This had resulted in much bad feeling and scores of duels, which had tended to hamper operations. Bonaparte had done his utmost to get Bernadotte recalled to Paris, but had failed.

That, however, was not the worst result of the exchange. The Army of Italy had fought its way magnificently up through the Carnic Alps and was within a hundred miles of Vienna. It needed only a strong thrust south-east by the Army of the Rhine to join up with Bonaparte, and Vienna would have fallen like a ripe plum into his hands. But Augereau was no strategist and he bungled matters. Winter was fast coming on; Bonaparte was hundreds of miles from his base, so dared advance no further on his own. Thus he was robbed of the finest spoils of victory and deprived of entering the Austrian capital in triumph until many years later.

When Napoleon was in Egypt and his Italian conquests had been overrun it was, after Massena, Bernadotte who had played the major role in saving France from invasion; so he had become a popular hero.

When peace with Austria was signed, he had been sent as Ambassador to Vienna, and there hung the Tricolour out from his Embassy. The sight of the Republican flag had so infuriated the pro-monarchist people that a riot had ensued; but Bernadotte had come out on to the steps of the Embassy, sword in hand, and later the Austrian Government had been forced to apologise.

As Minister of War at the time of Napoleon's unauthorized return from Egypt, sensing that the ambitious little Corsican might make trouble, Bernadotte had proposed that he should be arrested and court-martialled as a deserter. But Napoleon's exploits had already made him such a national idol that the Government had feared to take so dangerous a step and that had led to its own downfall. As a staunch Revolutionary, Bernadotte alone of all the senior Generals had refused to support Napoleon in the coup d'etat of 18th Brumaire which, it could be foreseen, would lead to his becoming a Dictator.

The Jacobin faction that stood for Government by the People, Atheism and Equality in its fullest sense, had then still been very powerful; so, for a time, Napoleon had had to proceed with caution. Moreau, Lannes, Jourdan, Augereau and Bernadotte were all Jacobins, and it would have been dangerous to quarrel with these paladins thrown up by the Revolution. It was largely for this reason that, in 1804, Napoleon included a number of them in his original creation of Marshals, and the cunning, inscrutable Bernadotte had been one of them.

In order to minimize opposition to his autocratic rule, Napoleon sent the Marshals he disliked and distrusted away from Paris. Bernadotte was made Governor of the important state of Hanover, and later other German territories were added to his Viceroyalty. He proved as able an administrator as he was a soldier, not only pacifying the considerable part of the new French Empire but bringing contentment and prosperity to its people.

He had thus made himself one of Napoleon's most valuable lieutenants. Moreover, he was almost one of the Imperial Family, because he had married Desiree, the younger daughter of a rich Marseilles silk merchant named Clary, and Julie, the elder daughter, had married Napoleon's eldest brother, Joseph. The tie was rendered even closer by the fact that, when a penniless young officer, Napoleon had been in love with and engaged to Desiree, and still had a strong affection for her.

Feeling, no doubt, that Desiree's handsome, subtle-minded husband had become one of the main props of his Empire, Napoleon decided to elevate him still further. To the fury of the other Marshals, who remained Dukes, when Napoleon made his invaluable Chief of Staff Berthier, Prince of Neuchatel, he made Bernadotte Prince of Ponte Corvo, with revenue of a million francs a year.

Despite his antipathy to the creation of a new upper class Bernadotte, unlike Lannes and Augereau, was a gentleman. His manners were faultless and he had great personal charm. He was greatly beloved by both his officers and men, and worked ceaselessly for their welfare. Prisoners who fell into his hands could also congratulate themselves, for he treated them with great courtesy and took care to see that they enjoyed every reasonable comfort.

No one could question the fact that he was among the most able of Napoleon's Marshals, but he was far from popular with the others, and more than once he had been accused of failing to support his colleagues in the field. A particularly flagrant case of this had occurred during the Prussian campaign of 1806. The irresolute and cowardly King Frederick William had, that autumn, at last been pushed by his military advisers Scharnhorst and Gniesenau into declaring war on France. They had under their hand what they believed to be the finest military machine" in Europe: no less than the army trained by Frederick the Great.

With incredible swiftness Napoleon had marched against them and formed one of his superb concentrations in the neighborhood of Jena. Believing the main body of the enemy to be immediately ahead of him, he dispatched the corps of Davout and Bernadotte far out on his flank in an encircling movement, so that when he drove in the Prussian centre, the two Marshals would be able to fall upon and annihilate the retreating enemy.

But, for once, the Emperor had made a serious miscalculation. His attack at Jena was completely successful, but it was only one wing of the Prussian army that he had defeated. The greater part of it remained intact and fell back on Auerstadt, where it encountered Davout. Against overwhelming odds Davout's three divisions fought desperately all day. Bernadotte's corps was only four miles distant and he could not have failed to hear the guns blazing away at both Jena and Auerstadt; yet he came to the assistance neither of the Emperor nor, in spite of appeal after appeal, of Davout.

He had shrugged this off afterwards by saying that he had obeyed the Emperor's orders by remaining in the position to which his corps had been assigned. But every one was convinced that he had deliberately remained out of the battle because Davout was the Emperor's man, body and soul. For that reason he loathed Bernadotte and Bernadotte loathed him.

The Prussian Army was almost annihilated. Its remnants were pursued and butchered by Murat's cavalry. The other corps advanced by forced marches. Fortress after fortress fell, until the victorious French reached the Baltic. After only twenty-three days of battle Murat reported to the Emperor, 'The war is over, because there are no more Prussians left to fight.' Davout had earned undying glory and was made Duke of Auerstadt.

Bernadotte was a most fluent talker and held the table for a good part of the time while they made inroads into the oysters, lobster pasties, sturgeon in aspic, quails stuffed with foie gras, truffled capon and other delicacies provided by Talleyrand's chef, and washed them down with Montrachet and Chateau Latour. As there were few secrets from the men who were asked to the statesman's breakfast parties, the conversation at them was always fascinating; but on this occasion Roger's mind was so occupied with his own anxieties that he took little heed of it.

At last, to his great relief the other guests took their leave. Leaning on Roger's arm, Talleyrand led him into a small, richly furnished library, as he said, 'Cher ami, it is an age since we met. Tell me, how has the world been treating you?'

'Well enough,' Roger replied, 'until recently. But now I am landed in a pretty mess. And I am come to crave your Exalted Highness' advice.'

The Prince lowered himself into an easy chair and waved Roger to another. 'You are, as ever, welcome to it.'

Roger then gave him a full account of his dealings with von Haugwitz, and their outcome, Talleyrand heard him out in silence, took a pinch of snuff, and said thoughtfully,

'This is certainly a bad business. Had you killed this unsavoury Baron in a duel, you'd have no cause to worry. But murder is another matter. Your wife having been found dead with him and your having made off with his provides such strong circumstantial evidence that one can hardly doubt that you'd be convicted on it.'

'I know it. But what hope do you think I have of the Emperor's giving me his protection?

'In spite of your secret activities, you have served him well in many ways, and he'll not hand over so old a friend to the Prussians. But, seeing the Baron was own brother to the Chief Minister of Prussia, he will almost certainly feel it incumbent on him to make some gesture of appeasement.

'That is what I fear. And the prospect of kicking my heels in a fortress for a year or two is damnably unattractive. Even more, I am concerned for the safety of the Baroness; for she is of English birth and my life-long friend.'

'On her account you have no need to worry. I will see to it that no harm befalls her.'

'I was about to ask Your Highness' protection for her, and I am more grateful than I can say.'

Talleyrand shrugged.' Tis nothing. I'll send her to my chateau of Valencey. To implicate me in his folly in going into Spain, the Emperor has foisted on me there that idiot ex-King Carlos and his licentious old Queen. They are by no means the type of fellow guests I could have chosen for your lady; but at least she will be safe at Valencey from anyone knowing her to be English. Your own situation is our real concern, and needs some thought. Give me a while to think.'

Closing his heavily-lidded eyes, the man with the most subtle brain in Europe remained motionless for a good five minutes, then he opened his eyes and said, 'Somehow we must endeavour to make it appear that you killed the Baron because you believed that doing so was in the service of the Emperor. Does the name von Stein mean anything to you?'

Roger nodded. 'He was a Minister in 1806, and one of the men who pushed Frederick William into going to war with France. After Jena he was the leading spirit in bringing about the regeneration of Prussia by the abolition of serfdom and many other liberal measures that made the common people feel that they now have a stake their country. His object, of course, was to arouse the patriotic feelings of the nation, so they would rise en masse, free themselves from the burden of taxation imposed by Napoleon and drive the French out of the territories stolen from Prussia after her defeat. Am I not right?'

'You are. But his zeal proved his undoing. The Emperor saw through his manoeuvres, demanded that Frederick William should dismiss him, deprive him of his estates, outlaw him and, if caught, have him shot as an enemy of France. The spineless King complied. But Stein escaped to Bohemia and, from there is still inciting the Prussians to rise against us. I think we might make use of him.'

Stretching out a beruffled hand, Talleyrand tinkled a gold bell on his desk. When a secretary appeared, he proceeded to dictate a letter in French. It purported to be from the Freiherr von Stein to Ulrich von Haugwitz, and its contents implied that it formed part of a regular correspondence between them. The letter conveyed that von Haugwitz had for some time been opposed to the pro-French policy of his brother the Minister and that he was secretly in touch with other German nobles in his district who, among them, believed that they would be able to raise a force of two thousand men when the time was ripe to attempt to throw out the French.

When Talleyrand had done, he said to the secretary,

'Give that to Monsieur Oster. Tell him I wish him to translate it into German and write it out in their script.

As soon as the secretary had left the room, Roger asked, 'How go things here? Are there any signs of this long armistice with Austria coming to an end?'

Talleyrand took another pinch of snuff, flicked the fallen grains from his lace cravat and nodded. 'Yes. The Emperor Francis has become weary of being kept out of his capital for so long, so he has at last given way to our major demands. As you know, I am in secret communication with Prince Metternich, and I received the news from him only yesterday. The Peace Treaty will be signed at Schonbrunn in the course of a week or so.'

'Then Britain will be the only nation left in arms against the Empire,' Roger remarked.

'Not quite. You forget Spain,' the Prince smiled. 'And I have considerable hopes that it is those ragged, nebulous hostilities in the Peninsula that will eventually break our little man's back.'

'You really think that likely?'

'I do. It is just on two years since Junot was sent into the Peninsula, and there has been fighting there, with a constant drain on French forces, ever since. If Napoleon had not panicked after he had put his brother Joseph on the throne of Spain, and returned to Paris because he believed that Fouche and I had joined forces with the object of bringing about his downfall, he might long since have brought the Spaniards to heel. But, as he then became occupied with his war against Austria, he had to leave the Peninsula to his Marshals. Some of them are very able men, but they are not used to this type of warfare in which everywhere the common people have taken up arms against us and fight with furious fanaticism. Moreover, during the past year the British have established themselves firmly there, and now a very large army indeed would have to be sent to the Peninsula to drive them out.'

'Agreed. But now the war with Austria is over, that will have freed at least two hundred thousand men, and the Emperor could again go to Spain to direct operations.

Talleyrand shook his head. 'I judge you wrong in that. The peace will, of course, free large numbers of troops, but so many must be retained to garrison the fortresses all over Europe and hold the Emperor's conquests down, that I greatly doubt if a sufficient reinforcement to make any material difference could be sent to Spain. As for our little man going there himself in the near future, I'd wager my Principality against it. His mind is no longer occupied by war. It is entirely absorbed in this prospect of a new marriage.'

'Then the divorce has been definitely decided upon? I gathered at Erfurt that he was seriously contemplating ridding himself of Josephine; and I am greatly distressed for her.'

'You count her, I know, a dear friend.' Talleyrand spread his long, beautifully kept hands. 'But what would you? As long as he believed himself incapable of fathering a child, her position as Empress was secure. Since there can be no reasonable doubt that Elenore Denuelle's son was begotten by him, the situation is entirely changed. His dearest wish has long been to found a dynasty, and he is now so powerful that he contemplates adding still further to his grandeur by an alliance with one of the great Imperial houses.'

'We may, then, have as Empress a Hapsburg or Romanoff Princess?'

'It will be one or the other. Which, is still in the balance. He sounded the Czar at Erfurt; but Alexander fobbed him off by saying that his sister's marriage was a matter for her mother. Recently he has reopened the question and is hoping that the Dowager Empress will give her consent. The alternative is Marie Louise of Austria, and both Metternich and I are pulling every string we can that would favour the match,

Roger smiled. 'I know well Your Highness' antipathy to the Russians; and a closer alliance with them could mean yet another series of ruinous wars. The project formed at Tilsit would be revived. The two Emperors would almost certainly march against Turkey and divide the Sultan's dominions between them. Then Napoleon would set about his long cherished plan for a descent on India.'

That is exactly the danger as I foresee it, and whether or not he succeeded in driving the British out, the strain of such a vast campaign would prove the final ruin of France. Therefore, no opportunity must be lost to press both for the Austrian marriage and sow dissension between Napoleon and the Czar.'

For another half-hour the two old friends talked on, then the secretary brought in the forged letter. Handing it to Roger, Talleyrand said, 'How you bring this to his notice I must leave to your ingenuity. I can only pray that it will serve to excuse the part you have played in this most unfortunate affair.'

Having expressed his deep gratitude, Roger took his leave and returned to La Belle Etoile. There he found Georgina in Mere Blanchard's kitchen, showing her how to make the famous British dish, Cornish Pasties. Such condescension by a great lady, and to find that she was an accomplished cook, filled the good, buxom Norman woman with surprise, and a respectful devotion that she would not have given to a Queen.

They all made an excellent midday meal off the dish, followed by a fine variety of cheeses. Then Roger took Georgina up to their room and broke to her the dangers of their situation. Although he made as light of matters as he reasonably could, over the years her mind had become so closely attuned to his that she sensed how gravely apprehensive he was about the outcome of his meeting with the Emperor.

She said that, should the worst happen, she meant to remain in Paris, on the chance that she could find some way to help him; as his freedom was more precious to her than her own. But he told her that he had secured Talleyrand's protection for her and eventually made her promise that she would place herself entirely in his friend's hands.

As he prepared to leave her, she suddenly thought of the crystal ball that she had brought with her jewels, and insisted that he should remain while she looked into it, in an endeavour to see what the future held for him. Getting it out, she set it up on a small table. They sat down in chairs on either side of it, and held each other's hands while she gazed into the smooth, shining sphere.

For a time they sat perfectly still and remained absolutely silent, while Georgina concentrated. At length, in her sight the ball misted over. The mist dissolved into slowly whirling wisps, then figures appeared in it.

Her big, dark eyes widened and she gave a sudden gasp of dismay. 'Oh, Roger, I see you in a cell and you are not in uniform, but,.. but in prisoner's clothes. A man is speaking to you. He is a parson… but not a Frenchman. My psychic sense tells me that this place is not France. You are in Germany and… oh, God. Can it be that you arc in a condemned cell and… and being prepared to go to your death?'

Pushing the crystal from her, she burst into a flood of tears. Roger did his utmost to comfort her, but his efforts were of no avail. When she had become a little calmer, she begged him not to go to the Tuileries, but to leave her in Talleyrand's care and seek safety in immediate flight. Knowing that Georgina's predictions were rarely wrong, he was greatly tempted to agree; but he hesitated because he knew that if he failed to report he would have burnt his boats. While he was still trying desperately to make up his mind which course to adopt, there came a knock at the door.

Roger opened it to find Maitre Blanchard standing in the passage. The landlord bowed, I regret to disturb you, Monsieur le Colonel, but there is an officer below. He has a carriage waiting, and he says he has been sent to fetch you because the Emperor requires your presence.'

With a nod Roger closed the door and, giving a pale smile, turned back to Georgina. Taking her in his arms, he said softly, 'There is no escaping fate, dear love, and it looks as though I have tempted it once too often. But I beg you not to despair. Maybe I'll cheat it once again. And now, before I go to meet whatever is in store for me, I pray you grant me a boon. It is something that beyond all else will inspire me to fight death. Do I succeed in surviving this peril and get safely back to England, will you marry me?'

The tears streaming down her lovely cheeks, she nodded. 'Roger, my own. How could I possibly refuse you? I have been the veriest fool to reject you for so long.

Ten minutes later he had joined the officer who had been sent for him, and was on his way to the Tuileries.

4

Roger Faces the Emperor

La Bells Etoile lay in the Rue de L'Arbre Sec, which was in the oldest part of Paris, to the east of the Louvre. The streets there were narrow, with the wood-framed upper storeys of the houses projecting beyond the gutters. There were no pavements, and the cobbled ways were a seething mass of people, dashing beneath horses' heads or squeezing themselves against the walls to make way for drays and coaches, which could proceed only at a foot pace and were frequently brought to a halt.

It took the carriage in which Roger sat with his escort nearly a quarter of an hour to reach the Place du Louvre; but, having crossed it, they were able to drive at a better pace down the broader thoroughfare that ran alongside the Palace and, not long since, renamed the Rue de Rivoli in honour of Napoleon's victory.

Beyond the Louvre lay the big garden where, on the terrible 10th August 1791, the first scene of the Terror had been enacted by the massacre of Louis XVI's Swiss Guard. Turning left into it, the carriage pulled up in front of the Palais de Tuileries. Two minutes later, Roger was mounting the splendid grand staircase, up which he had often so gaily gone to participate in magnificent fetes and Imperial ceremonies.

The fact that he had not been asked to surrender his sword and so was not actually under arrest, caused him some relief; but he was far from taking that as a sign that he had nothing to fear. At the door of the big antechamber on the first floor, his escort, with whom he had exchanged no more than a courteous greeting, handed him over to the Chamberlain-in-Waiting, and left him.

In the lofty white and gold salon, a number of people, mostly officers, were sitting about or talking in small groups. Roger knew a number of them, but had too much on his mind to wish to enter on idle conversation; so, after nodding to a few acquaintances, he sat down on a fauteuil at the far end of the room.

He had not been there long when Duroc, Marshal of the Emperor's Palaces and Camps, came into the room to speak to the big, black bearded General Montbrun who, with Lasalle, St. Croix and Colbert was, after Murat, one of Napoleon's four finest cavalry leaders.

The Marshal was one of Roger's oldest friends. Getting up, he crossed the room toward him. When Duroc had finished talking to the General, he turned, raised his eyebrows and exclaimed with pleasure:

'How good to see you, mon cher ami. I had no idea that you were in Paris.'

'You surprise me,' Roger replied. 'I got back only yesterday. But the Emperor has sent for me, and I felt certain you would be able to inform me of the reason.'

'No. He has made no mention of you to me.'

'What sort of mood is he in today?'

'There has been nothing so far to put him out of temper. But he is, of course, as busy as usual; so it will probably be an hour or two before he sees you.'

'I suppose he and Berthier are hard at it making plans to put an end to the trouble in Spain?

'Oh, no. He is not worrying himself on that score. He still regards it as no more than risings here and there by ill-armed rabbles, stiffened by an English army of no great size. It now looks as though a peace with Austria will soon be signed. Then he'll be able to withdraw his legions and send an army of a hundred thousand men to clean up the Peninsula, but you must forgive me now, as I have much to do. Unless he sends you off on some mission, we must agree a night to dine together.'

When Roger returned to his chair, he was in two minds whether or not to be pleased that a long wait lay ahead of him. On the one hand he was anxious to get his audience over, and so learn the worst; on the other he had had little time to think out how he could most effectively use the forged letter, and the delay would give him a chance to do so.

He had been pondering the matter for three-quarters of an hour when Marshal Brune came in and took a seat near him. Brune was the son of a lawyer: a well-educated man with literary pretensions, who prided himself particularly on his poetry; but it, was so indifferent that he had had to buy a printing press to get it printed. Like Lannes, Augereau and Bernadotte, he regretted the ending of government by the people, so was not well regarded by Napoleon. Unlike those Marshals, he had little ability as a soldier, and his only claim to military fame had been in 1799 when Bonaparte was in Egypt.

Bonaparte's absence had led to the loss of Italy, and France had been threatened with invasion from both the east and north. Massena had held the bastion of Switzerland and won undying fame by defeating the Russians under the redoubtable Suvarov; while Brune had been dispatched to repulse an English army that had landed in Holland. It had been commanded by the hopelessly inefficient Duke of York, and at Alkmaar Brune had compelled him to surrender. But every General knew that, given sufficient troops, any fool could have done that.

Nevertheless, the public had acclaimed him a hero, so Napoleon had thought it politic to include him in the original creation of Marshals; but there his elevation had stopped short. When the other Marshals, with the exception of Jourdan, Serurier and Perignon, had been made Dukes, Brune had received no title. Many people believed that this omission was due to his having, while Governor of Hamburg, gravely offended Napoleon by referring to himself as a Marshal of France, instead of a Marshal of the Empire. In recent years he had been employed mainly on administrative duties.

Greeting Roger pleasantly, he remarked anxiously, 'I would I could guess why our master has sent for me. I hope to God it is not to dispatch me with a corps into Spain.'

'Indeed,' Roger replied noncommittally, still occupied by his own uneasy forebodings. 'I would have thought that after all this time you would have welcomed a command in the field.'

Brune passed his hand over his tall, bald forehead. 'I would; but not in Spain. The war there is not war as we understand it. Every hand there is against us. Rather than let us buy their food and fodder, the peasants burn them. Even the children are used to carry intelligence to the English, so that General Wellesley is kept informed of our every move, which makes it impossible for us ever to take him by surprise. Our armies are isolated, each hundreds of miles from the others, and separated by countless thousands of murderous brigands. They take no prisoners. Instead, they flay or roast alive any Frenchman they can catch. The women are as bad as the men, and at times pretend friendliness in order to poison our troops. It is certain death for fewer than a score of our men to venture a few miles from their camps. Do you know, if one General wishes to send a message to another, he now has to provide his courier with an escort of two hundred horse to make certain of his reaching his destination?'

Roger nodded. 'How awful for our people. I had not realised that things were quite so bad as that. But I gather that Austria is on the verge of agreeing a peace. Once that is signed, the Emperor will be able to send a great army into Spain and subdue it.

'You think so? Well, perhaps you are right, but I doubt it. No one would dispute, his genius. I tell you, though; the war there is utterly unlike those he has been accustomed to waging. He has always relied for his victories on skilful combinations with each unit reaching its appointed place on time before the opening of a battle. To do so in Spain is impossibility. That clever little devil, Berthier, can pore over his maps and get out schedules of march till his great head bursts like a pricked balloon; but it will be all to no purpose, because Spain is cut up by a dozen ranges of high mountains, and there are no roads by which guns and baggage trains can cross them.'

Having been in Spain himself on several occasions, Roger knew that the tall, gloomy Marshal was right, and that even Napoleon would have to surpass himself to subdue all resistance in the Peninsula. They talked on for a while about the state of Europe generally, until Brune was summoned to the presence. Roger sat on for another hour; then, at last, he in turn was called on to face the unpredictable Corsican.

A corporal of the Old Guard stood rigidly on either side of the tall, gilded, double doors. The Chamberlain-in-Waiting tapped sharply on the parquet with his white wand of office; two footmen in liveries bespangled with golden bees and eagles threw the doors open and, as Roger was announced, he advanced into the great room, his head held high, his befeathered hat under his arm.

At the far end, the Emperor was pacing slowly to and fro, his hands clasped behind his back, his big head thrust a little forward. He was dressed, as usual, in the white and green uniform of the Guides, and presented a very different figure from that when Roger had first met him at the siege of Toulon. Then, he had been a lean faced scraggy fellow, with long, untidy hair, wearing a shabby uniform, who appeared hardly more than a youth and was remarkable only for his aggressive jaw and dark, flashing eyes. Now he looked much older than his age. He was scrupulously clean, and his hair was cut short. Both his unnaturally pallid face and his body had filled out. He had become corpulent and stooped a little when he was not consciously holding himself erect in public. His powerful jaw remained his most prominent feature, and his fine eyes held their old intensity, as he suddenly turned his head and snapped at Roger:

'Well, Monsieur Casanova Breuc! What have you to say for yourself?'

Roger had already bowed three times as he crossed the room. Smiling, he bowed again. 'Nothing, Your Imperial Majesty, except that I am happy to have been received again into your august presence.'

'Ha! As smooth-tongued as ever, eh! But this time your honeyed words will not save you. You have indulged in your eternal pursuit of women once too often.'

For years past Napoleon's constant infidelities to Josephine had been notorious; so Roger said amiably, 'It is a pleasure, Sire, in which I have endeavored to emulate you.’

Napoleon's broad forehead creased in a frown. 'You impudent rascal! How dare you compare your licentiousness with my occasional peccadilloes? I am a man apart, and carrying the burden of Empire, have every right to seek such relaxation.'

'By "endeavour", Sire, I meant only to pay you a compliment. I have to exert myself mightily to succeed with women; where it needs only a glance from Your Majesty for them to swoon with delight and fall into your arms.'

'Enough of this! To obtain your ends by murder places you beyond the pale.'

'Murder!' Roger exclaimed in feigned surprise. 'What mean you, Sire? I have done no murder.⁵

'Liar! Augereau was here this forenoon and told me all. In order that you could make off with the Baron von Haugwitz's wife, you killed him; and your own wife into the bargain.'

'They met their deaths by accident, Sire, although I'll admit that I was responsible for bringing that about. As for the Baron's wife, she is an old friend of mine, and the least I could do was to escort her away from the scene of the tragedy, lest she be accused of having had a hand ink.'

'You admit then that you brought about their deaths?'

'I do. But you must know me well enough to be certain that never would I have done such a thing had it not been in your service.'

'Ha! The same old plea that you have so often made to excuse your wild escapades and neglect of your duties. I'll hear no more.'

I protest, Sire! I have ever served you well, and in this matter have done so yet again. Since you rightly pride yourself upon your sense of justice, you must hear me out.’

'Speak then, but be brief.'

'Your Majesty may recall that, while at Erfurt, you gave me leave so that I might pay a visit to Schloss Langenstein. While I was there, Prince Metternich came one day to luncheon. Afterwards, I chanced to overhear a brief conversation between the Prince and the Baron, which led me to believe that the latter was secretly an enemy of France. With the intention of endeavoring to verify my suspicions, I went on another visit to the Schloss in mid September. On my second night there, when everyone had retired, I stole along to the Baron's cabinet and went through his papers. Among them I found a letter incriminating him up to the hilt.

'I must now reveal to you the truth about my wife; She turned out to be a most evil woman. The black infant she gave birth to while we were at Erfurt was not the result of rape, but of her having given herself willingly while in Brazil to a Negro slave. Although I would admit this to no one but yourself, on her return to Europe she tromped me with numerous men, among them von Haugwitz.

'The Baron's cabinet was adjacent to his bedroom. She had been in there with him, but came out to return to her own room just as I was abstracting this incriminating letter from his files. I attempted to stifle her cries before she could bring her lover on the scene, but failed. Among her crimes was the appalling one that, in my presence, she had knifed her own father in the back and killed him. Knowing her ferocity, and that I stood little chance of overcoming both her and von Haugwitz, if they attacked me together, I struck her senseless. Next moment, the Baron was upon me. Fortunately, he had been drinking heavily. One blow to the jaw and he fell senseless to the floor.⁵

'What then was I to do with their two unconscious bodies? By ancient right, the Baron maintained in the Schloss a small bodyguard under the orders of his steward, Big Karl. When they learned what I had done, they would certainly have killed me. The only possible course was to hide the bodies and tell Big Karl in the morning that the two of them had gone out early to see the vintagers at work, then make off as swiftly as I could, with the Baroness.

'For that they had to be kept quiet until we had got well away. Had I gagged them they might have suffocated; so I found some laudanum in a medicine cupboard and drugged them both. Then I carried their bodies down to the weinstube and lowered them to the bottom of one of the big wine presses, feeling confident that they would not be found there, but regain consciousness by midday.

'The Baroness and I succeeded in escaping to Coblenz. It was not until forty-eight hours later that we learned that I had drugged them too heavily, and they had been crushed to death under a load of grapes.'

With set face the Emperor had listened to Roger's account. Now he burst out, 'Liar! Liar! Liar! I know of old your ability to invent specious excuses for your doings. Tis a tissue of lies from start to finish. I'd wager a million francs that you could not produce that letter.'

'Then you would lose your wager, Sire,' Roger retorted sharply, and he took the letter from his pocket, adding, 'It is from the Freiherr von Stein.'

'"What! That recalcitrant German cur!' Napoleon exclaimed. 'Give it me! Give it me!' And he snatched the parchment.

Swiftly he ran his eye over it. Seeing it was in German, he read it through twice, until he had fully grasped its contents. Then he threw it on the floor and stamped upon it, cursing furiously.

'May hell take these Deutschlanders? The trouble the swine give me is endless. I make a treaty with their King and crapauds like Stein have the insolence to set the people against it. Von Haugwitz's friends will raise two thousand men, will they? This is conspiracy. It will not be war but rebellion. I'll hang every one of them. I'll line the banks of the Rhine with their dangling corpses.'

Roger gave an inward sigh of relief. Unless matters now took some unforeseen twist, Talleyrand's trick had worked. Two minutes later, his new optimism was confirmed. Recovering his temper, Napoleon said:

'Clearly, it was your life or that of this scum. Since he was a traitor, he had already forfeited it. By your action you did no more than anticipate the sentence of a Court. As for your wife, she was a most ravishing creature; but, from what you tell me, a positive demon in human form. In attacking you as she did, she brought her death upon herself. You are well rid of her.'

Roger bowed. 'I thank Your Majesty for your renewed confidence in me. I am, however, still troubled by one possibility. Seeing that Baron Ulrich was own brother to the Chief Minister of Prussia, the Prussians may make an issue of it, and request you to hand me over to them. Even should they not, I'd still be in danger should you at some future time send me on a mission into Germany.'

'Have no fears on that score. I will send an instruction to the Prussian Ambassador, Baron von Brockhausen. I'll say that he is to inform his Government that I am averse to any further investigation into the Schloss Langenstein affair; and that any proceedings being taken against you are to be quashed.'

'I thank you, Sire. And now I have a request to make. This last business has placed a considerable strain upon me, and you know of old that my weak chest requires that I spend as much as possible of the winter in the sunshine. I pray you allow me leave to proceed to the South of France.'

The Emperor stared at him in surprise. 'But 'tis scarce yet October. And you have already been away from me for too long. Unlike the majority of my beaux sabreurs, you are a well educated man and have brains in your head. I've found you useful to me in a thousand ways. No, no! A week or so before Christmas will be time enough for you to go nurse your health. Now that a peace with Austria is as good as concluded, I'll be sending an army south to put an end to this Spanish nonsense. You have often assisted the Prince of Neuchatel to work out troop movements. Report to him tomorrow morning. And now au revoir.'

It had been worth trying for immediate leave, although Roger had thought it unlikely that he would get it. And there could be no arguing about the matter. Drawing himself to attention, he made his three bows and backed out of the room, only too thankful to be still a free man.

As an A.D.C. of the Emperor, he was entitled at any time to take a horse, and mounts were always being walked up and down outside the Palace, in case one was required by a courier carrying an urgent dispatch. As the swiftest means of rejoining Georgina, Roger took a chestnut from the nearest groom, then imperiled the lives of several pedestrians on his way back to La Belle Etoile.

Georgina's joy knew no bounds when she learned that they no longer had anything to fear, except the not very likely possibility of her being recognised and denounced as formerly English. But it was a danger that had to be guarded against, and Roger said to her:

'As you know, Napoleon believes me to suffer from a weak chest, so grants me leave to spend a part of most winters at my little chateau at St. Maxime. It is while I am supposed to be there that I have often made my secret trips to England; and, for a moment, I hoped that by again practicing this deception I could get you home. But as it is still autumn, the Emperor would have none of it. I must remain here on duty, but I am anxious to have you out of Paris, and I think I have hit on a means of doing so. Now I must wait on Talleyrand, and thank him for what he has done for me.'

'Oh, Roger,' she protested. 'Must we part so soon? I would as lief remain here with you; and the chances of my being recognised would be virtually nil if I spent all my time up here in one room. That I will do most willingly for the joy of our being able to spend our nights together.'

He smiled down on her. 'I pray you be patient, dear love. Give me an hour or two and maybe I'll have a way by which we may both eat our cake yet keep it.'

Hastening to the Rue du Bac, he enquired for the Prince. Talleyrand was at home and, after a short delay, received him. Greeting Roger with a happy smile, he said:

'Mon vieux, congratulations. The fact that you are still free tells me that our ruse succeeded.'

'Indeed it did,' Roger laughed, 'and I am once more eternally your debtor.' Then he gave an account of his audience with Napoleon. When he had done, he added:

'And now I have to ask Your Highness yet another favour. That is, if you still have your petite maison out at Passy. Should my fair lady remain in Paris, there is the risk that she may run into someone who knew her as the Countess of St. Ermins. But, could we for a while make that charming house our refuge, out there she would be in no danger.'

Talleyrand waved a beruffled hand. 'Cher ami, you are most welcome to do so. By occupying it for me during a great part of the Terror, you prevented the house from being confiscated and its contents looted by some mob. Ever since I have regarded the place as being as much yours as mine. I wish you and your charmer a very happy sojourn there.'

A quarter of an hour later, Roger was again on his way back to Georgina. When he told her of this solution to their problem, and that they could look forward to several weeks in a charming love-nest, she could hardly contain her delight.

As Georgina's predictions had previously always proved well founded, they were puzzled that, in this case, her vision seen in the crystal was no longer a cause for apprehension. Having talked it over, they came to the conclusion that, in this case, she must have gone backward, instead of forward, in time, and seen him some years previously, he had been imprisoned in England and the prison chaplain had, at times, visited him in his cell.

That evening, after a last glass of wine with the Blanchards, they drove out in a hired coach to Passy: an outlying suburb of Paris that lay in the direction of St. Cloud.

Passy was a pretty village of farms and attractive little houses in which, in pre-Revolution days, nobles used to keep ballerinas and the ladies of the Comedie Francaise. In these times Talleyrand had been far from rich and had made one of the houses his home. There, at his buffet parties, Roger had met many men who were later to become famous: Mirabeau, Louis de Narbonne, Mathieu de Montmorency, among them, and heard them talk enthusiastically of the Liberal Revolution by which they planned to bring democracy to the French people.

The little house was looked after by a couple named Velot. During the Terror, Roger had paid their wages and, in those dark days when food was scarce and expensive_} seen to it that they lacked for nothing. In consequence, they had become devoted to him, and looked after his welfare as though he were a cherished son.

The Velots were old now, but they received Roger and Georgina with surprise and joy. Madame Velot killed a chicken, and got out her most treasured preserves for their supper; while her husband lit a fire in the best bedroom and filled warming pans for the big bed. An hour and a half later, the two life long lovers lay in it, naked, embraced and without a care in the world.

5

The Imperial Divorce

Next morning Roger duly reported to Marshal Berthier, Prince de Neuchatel. The only virtue of this ugly little man, whose head was too big for his body, and who made himself ridiculous by wearing fantastic uniforms of his own design, was that, in all history, no soldier had ever equalled him as an efficient Chief of Staff. His great, top heavy head was packed with facts and figures. He could from day to day, give the effective strength of every division in the Army, and the position of every unit. He could plan the movement of vast masses of troops across hundreds of miles of country, without their jamming the roads or running short of food and ammunition. At the critical stage of a campaign, he was capable of going without sleep for several days on end. As he was habitually rude and dictatorial to the other Marshals, all of whom were junior to him, he was far from popular. But, knowing Roger to be a level headed and competent assistant, he greeted him with a fair show of politeness.

The following day the Emperor set off for Vienna, as usual traveling at great speed, with frequent relays of picked horses. As he was not going on a campaign, he left Berthier behind him, to plan the transfer from Austria of the divisions that had been earmarked for Spain. This meant for Roger many hours spent working out endless calculations; but he managed to find time to pay his respects to such members of the Imperial Family as were in Paris.

First he waited on Josephine. On one occasion she had saved his life, and on another saved him from imprisonment; while on two occasions he had saved her marriage, so they were very close friends and, in private, she always treated him without ceremony. As he felt certain that by now she must know that she was to be divorced, he had dreaded her raising the subject, but she made no mention of it. On the other hand, as Lisala had been one of Josephine's ladies-in-waiting, before his departure Napoleon had told her about the affair at Schloss Langenstein, so she made him give her a full account of it. When he had done so, she said:

'What ill fortune for you that you should have married such a terrible woman. Of course, I greatly admired her beauty; but there was something about those big, widely-spaced eyes she had that made me vaguely distrustful of her. I am so glad that you are now free, and hope that you may soon find another wife more worthy of you.'

His next call was on Madame Mere, Napoleon's mother was a tall, gaunt, once-handsome woman, deeply religious, and parsimonious from the belief that her great son's Empire might not last; so that one day he and her other children would need the money she saved out of the huge income he gave her. She had great courage, despised all pomp, was very shrewd, but of limited intelligence and lived only for her family. Many people dreaded her sharp tongue, but she had always treated Roger pleasantly.

Joseph, the Emperor's elder brother, was in Spain. He had, until the summer of 1808, been King of Naples, but Napoleon had sent for him and, without even asking him, insisted on his mounting the Spanish throne.

Of the younger brothers, the firebrand Lucien had quarreled with Napoleon and was living in self-imposed exile in Rome. Louis, having been pushed unwillingly into marrying Josephine's only daughter, Hortense de Beauharnais, had been made King of Holland; while the youngest, Jerome, was now King of Westphalia.

However, two of Napoleon's sisters were in Paris: Caroline and Pauline. Caroline was the wife of the dashing cavalry leader, Joachim Murat, who had replaced Joseph on the throne of Naples. She was by far the cleverest of the family: a scheming, boundlessly ambitious woman, with pretensions to being knowledgeable about literature. She owned a unique collection of bawdy books.

Pauline, the beauty of the family, was as licentious as she was lovely. She was Napoleon's favourite sister and the only one of the brood who had a real affection for him. She had had many lovers; and, seven years earlier, Roger had had a hectic affaire with her. It had ended with her marriage to Prince Borghese and, to her fury, being ordered by Napoleon to live with her husband in Italy. For some while she had been back in Paris, and lived in a magnificent mansion, which she had furnished with great taste; but her health had been undermined by a disease she had contracted while in San Domingo, and Roger found her sadly changed.

As every member of the Bonaparte family, with the exception of Napoleon, detested Josephine on account of her superior birth, both the Princesses retailed to Roger with high delight all the rumours they had heard, which now made it as good as certain that their brother intended to divorce her.

On October 14th, the Peace of Schonbrunn was signed, by Champaguy, Duc de Cadore, who had succeeded Talleyrand as Foreign Minister, and Prince Metternich; by the 20th Napoleon was back in France and arrived at Fontainebleau. With him came the news that, while at Schonbrunn, a young fanatic named Staps had attempted to assassinate him. Before the attempt could made,

Colonel Count Rapp had taken from the youth a long knife. Staps, who was perfectly sane, had then shouted that Napoleon was the curse of his Fatherland and, when offered pardon, told the Emperor that, if freed, he would again try to kill him.

At Fontainebleau, poor Josephine's marriage received its mortal blow. When she was about to go to her husband's bedroom, she found that he had had a doorway in the passage leading to it bricked up.

Now that the peace had at last been signed, there was a whole series of official celebrations, and Le Moniteur gazetted a long list of honour’s. For their special services in the campaign, Prince of Wagram was added to Berthier's titles, and Davout, Due d'Auerstadt was made Prince d'Eckmuhl, while Massena was raised to Prince d'Essling.

The Kings of Holland, Westphalia and Naples all came to Paris, and many other royalties who now owed allegiance to Napoleon. But for these splendid fetes, parades and fireworks the ordinary people no longer showed their old enthusiasm. Even the double celebration on November 25th of the anniversary of the Emperor's coronation and the victory of Austerlitz failed to draw from the crowds the frantic cheering with which the Emperor had been greeted in former years.

Rogers’s position as a friend of numerous people close to the Emperor enabled him to keep abreast with the moves in the matter that was now uppermost in everybody's mind. On November 30th, Napoleon and Josephine parted. Their leave taking was prolonged, and heart rending on both sides.

She had married him only because she had been persuaded to do so by her former lover, the then powerful Barras. After only a single night with her, Napoleon had been compelled to set out to take over the command of the Army of Italy, and she had promptly been unfaithful to him. Again, during the many months he had spent in Egypt, she had carried on openly an affair with a handsome army contractor, named Hippolyte Charles. Yet, later she had come to love her husband deeply, and was caused great distress by his infidelities.

He, on the other hand, during the early years of their marriage had loved her to distraction and, although he had arrogated to himself the right to take as a mistress any woman who temporarily appealed to him, he had never ceased to sleep with her frequently, and often she read him to sleep.

He had elevated her to the position of the First Lady in Europe, grudged her nothing and smothered her with jewels. For her part, she had been an immense help to him because, as an ex-aristocrat, she had been capable of reigning over his Court with dignity, graciousness and charm.

At their parting he had not disguised the fact that he was desperately loath to put her from him, and did so only because he could not bring himself to forgo his ambition to form a dynasty. She was to receive a huge pension and live at Malmaison, the beautiful private home that she had nearly ruined him by buying while he was abroad and still only young General Bonaparte.

Even so, Roger wondered how she would manage to maintain it, for she was boundlessly extravagant. It had been estimated that, during the five years she had been Empress, she had spent the equivalent of a quarter of a million pounds on clothes alone.

On December 16th, the Senate formally decreed the divorce.

That night Roger again asked his master for leave to go to the South of France, and it was granted; so having spent the following day tidying up the work on which he had been employed, and drawing a considerable sum from the Paymaster's office, he drove out to Passy in a high good humour.

During the past seven weeks, his attendance on the Emperor at State functions, gala nights at the Opera and balls given by numerous Ambassadors, had prevented him from being with Georgina as frequently as he would have wished. But he had managed to spend two or three nights a week with her. Realising his situation, she had not complained, but resigned herself to the quiet life, made pleasant by every comfort the good Velots could devise for her, and amused herself by again taking up her hobby of painting.

Now, on hearing Roger's news, she joyfully embraced him and cried happily, 'At last, then, we shall be able to spend all our days together and soon get back to England!'

Kissing her fondly, he replied, 'Yes, my love. We'll be together; but I have other plans for our immediate future, should you approve them. 'Tis now much too late for us to get home for Christmas and, much as you long to see your Charles, within a few weeks he will be returning to Eton. At this time of year England, with its cold, rain and mud, is a dreary place. Why, therefore, should we hurry to it when, instead, we could enjoy the sunshine at my little chateau near St. Maxime?'

After considering for a moment, she said, 'Dear Roger, you are right. 'Twill be a splendid opportunity to enjoy a honeymoon before, instead of after we are married.'

Next day in Paris he paid farewell visits to Talleyrand and a number of his other friends. He also called on an ex-brother A.D.C., the Comte de Lavelette, who had been made Minister of Posts, and asked him to expedite a letter he had written the previous night. It was to a couple named Dufour who, although he went to his little chateau very infrequently, he had arranged to have paid a good salary regularly, to keep the place in order for him. In the letter he said that he would shortly be arriving with his wife, and that everything must be made ready for their reception.

On the 18th they said good-bye to the Velots and set off in a comfortable traveling coach that Roger had bought the day before. Their route lay through Fontainebleau, Auxerre, Chalons, Lyons, Valence, Avignon and Aix, then by the inland road that ran parallel to the coast in the direction of Nice. The distance was something over five hundred miles, but they travelled by easy stages, So that they had time to visit the buildings of historic interest in the cities through which they passed. The inns at which they stayed were comfortable and, as since the days of Louis XIV the French had been famed for their cooking, Georgina enjoyed for the first time many of the excellent local dishes.

But there were several occasions on which she was saddened by what was happening in the towns and villages. Moncey's gendarmes, assisted by troops who cordoned off inhabited areas, were ruthlessly hunting down deserters. Youngsters and quite elderly men alike were being dragged from houses and farms, and hauled off to the nearest barracks, regardless of the tears and pathetic pleading of their women folk. Even a game leg from an old wound received in battle, or the loss of one eye, did not save them from enforced re-enlistment as cannon fodder for the Emperor.

When they reached their destination, the Dufours greeted them cheerfully, and they had proved good stewards during Roger's long absence. The house was clean and orderly, the furniture had been kept polished and they had filled every available vase with carnations. With appreciation, but furtively, they eyed the beautiful Georgina; for the last time Roger had brought a lady to the house as his 'wife', she had been, although they had remained ignorant of her true identity, the equally lovely Princess Pauline, not long since the widow of her first husband, General Leclerc.

They had arrived on the last day of December, so were able to celebrate the coming in of the year 1810 with a dish of freshly-caught lobsters, forced asparagus and peaches, washed down with a magnum of champagne. Both of them were in excellent health and took such joy of each other that they remained in bed together for the whole of New Year's Day.

Next morning, when Roger took his beloved round his small domain, she was delighted with it. There was no garden in the English sense, but masses of flowers, a hothouse in which an old gardener grew peaches and pineapples, orange, lemon and mandarin trees on which the fruit was already ripening, and a little vineyard. A still greater attraction was the blue sea dappled with sunshine, and the long beach of golden sand which, as the house lay some distance from the town, was nearly always deserted.

Roger had always sent generous contributions to the local charities, and the church. Moreover, as one of the Emperor's A.D.Cs and a hero of the Army, the people of the district accounted it an honour that, at times, he should reside among them. In consequence, he was informed by Dufour that the citizens of St. Maxime intended to come out to the chateau and welcome his new wife. The same thing had happened when he had brought Pauline there, and he had awaited the demonstration with considerable anxiety; but fortunately no one had realised that she was Napoleon's sister. Preparations were hastily put in hand: a large supply of food got in, a cask of good wine from the vineyard broached, and tables set up on the terrace, which had a fine view of the bay.

In due course the crowd, headed by the Mayor and the Cure, arrived. Addresses of welcome were read by both, and a little girl presented to Georgina a huge bouquet. Roger replied, and took the occasion to announce hat he and his wife were on their honeymoon, so wished o be excused from offering or accepting any invitations. This in no way damped the cheerfulness of his self invited guests. A good time was had by all, and it was not until late in the evening that the last of them, a little unsteady after the amount of wine they had consumed, happily took their departure.

The lovers then entered on a halcyon existence. For over eight weeks they lazed in the sunshine, strolled hand in hand among the vineyards and olive groves, rode up into the hills, or picnicked on the beach. Long ago, as a boy at Lymington, Roger had mastered the art of sailing, so he bought a small yacht and they went in her on expeditions to towns and villages along the coast. Both of them were well read, and had travelled widely, so they never lacked things to talk about, or episodes in their past to laugh over. During those long weeks in which, night and day, they had only each other for company, Georgina became convinced that Roger had proved his contention that, now they were older, they would never tire of each other; and she looked forward happily to their being married when they got back to England.

It was early in March that an event occurred which caused Roger considerable perturbation. A courier arrived from the Emperor. Such a thing had never happened before and, had it done so while he was supposed to be at St. Maxime but was actually away on one of his secret trips to England, his absence could have proved far from easy to explain.

The contents of the dispatch also gave him much food for thought. It was in Napoleon's own almost illegible scrawl, and briefly conveyed that he was worried about Josephine. Apparently the officer whom he had appointed to act as the Comptroller of her Household at Malmaison had proved far from satisfactory, and she had asked if

Roger could replace him. Anxious to please her, Napoleon had granted her request, with the proviso that he could spare Roger for only a few months, until she was more satisfactorily settled. He then ordered Roger to return to Paris, in order to take up his new post as speedily as possible.

This summons placed Roger in a nasty quandary. He had intended, later in the month, to take Georgina across to Bordeaux and, in a village somewhere along the coast there, find a smuggler who would run them across the Channel. But could he, with any decency, deny the consolation of his friendship to the unhappy Josephine?

That night he discussed the situation fully with Georgina. Being of a most generous nature, she said that, as the appointment was to be only for a few months, he must do as he had been asked, and that she would remain on at St. Maxime until he could rejoin her.

He accepted her view that he must leave her for a while; but was worried that her return home would be so long delayed. After some thought he hit upon an idea that would enable her to leave France more speedily. The British Navy, being dominant in the Mediterranean, constantly patrolled the coast from Gibraltar to Genoa, and hardly a day passed without one of the patrolling frigates passing within sight of St. Maxime. If he could put her aboard one of them, when it next put in to Gibraltar for supplies it could land her there and, as the one-time Countess of St. Ermins, he had little doubt that the Admiral in command would give her passage in another ship to carry her to England.

Three days elapsed before a ship came close enough in for her to be reached without undue risk and, fortunately, at midday the wind dropped to hardly a breeze; so for the afternoon she lay about three miles offshore, almost becalmed.

As Roger was anxious that no one in the town should see him put Georgina aboard, they waited until an hour or so before twilight was due to fall before leaving the house. Early in the afternoon he had made certain through his telescope that the frigate was British; Georgina had then packed most of the clothes he had bought for her while she was living at Passy and, having told the Dufours that they were going for a trip in the yacht, they had carried the bags down to her.

With the approach of evening, the usual breeze from the land caused the sails of the ship to fill a little, and she began to put on way. But Roger was not displeased as, without the breeze, he could not have sailed his yacht, and he felt confident that he could overhaul the frigate. Before they hoisted the anchor they took a long, tender farewell of one another, but Georgina put a brave face on their parting, and the yacht was soon churning up a ripple at her bow.

It took them over two hours to come up within hailing distance of the frigate, but that suited Roger well, as he did not want to run even the slight risk of one of the officers on board recognizing him as Mr. Brook, To reduce the possibility to a minimum, he had put on his oldest sailing clothes, and it was now nearly dark.

The watch answered Roger's hail; then a lengthy exchange took place, during which the Captain came on deck. At first he was most reluctant to take a female aboard; but, on being assured that she was the Countess of St. Ermins, a well known beauty who had many influential friends, he decided that it was better not to risk a reprimand from his superiors for having refused to assist her to escape from enemy territory.

At length a breeches buoy was let down, Roger lashed Georgina firmly into it, then she was hauled up, He had lowered the sails of his yacht and now sat down in the stern while she gently rocked. After waving Georgina away, he sadly watched the ship until she had disappeared into the darkness. He then hoisted sail and turned the yacht in the direction of St. Tropez, where he intended to sleep that night.

The following afternoon he told the Dufours that their mistress had received news that a member of her family was dangerously ill; so she had had to leave for Marseilles at a moment's notice. Next morning, with a heavy heart, he took the road to Paris.

6

A New Mission

When, on the 12th March, Roger reached the capital, he found it agog with excitement over the Emperor's approaching marriage, and was glad to learn that the bride was to be the Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria, the nineteen year-old daughter of the Emperor Francis.

The Russian alliance, entered into with such enthusiasm by the Czar in the summer of 1808, when the two Emperors had met on a raft in the middle of the river Niemen at Tilsit to agree an armistice, had never been popular with a great part of the Russian nobility; and later, when the two Emperors had met again at Erfurt, Alexander a mental as well as a born autocrat had baulked at the suggestion of giving his sister to a Corsican upstart. Finally, to avoid offending Napoleon, his formal proposal had been rejected by the Dowager Czarina on the excuse that her daughter was still too young to marry.

The result must be a further weakening of the Franco-Russian alliance, which gave Napoleon security in the north and could lead to his becoming still more powerful through the conquest and partition of Turkey; so Talleyrand, Fouche, Roger and everyone else who was secretly hoping for Napoleon's downfall were very pleased that the new Empress was to be the Austrian.

Having made his service to the Emperor, Roger rode out to Malmaison. Josephine received him with delight, had the best guest suite in the house prepared for him and said that he must order anything he desired, at her expense. During the next few days he took over from her Comptroller and found that there was nothing basically wrong with the running of the household. It was simply that the official had endeavored to check Josephine's extravagance, and had shown no tact in doing so. Feeling confident that he could always persuade the Emperor to give her more money, Roger made few changes and soon settled down to his new life.

As spring was now well on the way, much of his time was spent with Josephine in her beautiful garden. Flowers were her chief delight. Tens of thousands of bulbs were blooming in the glades, and in the hot-houses there were many rare tropical plants that she had had sent from her native Martinique. But, although she no longer drove in Paris, she was far from leading the life of a recluse.

Apart from the enmity of members of the Bonaparte family, she had been universally popular and her old friends flocked out to Malmaison to visit her; so Roger was kept up-to-date with all that was going on at Court.

Berthier had been sent to escort Marie Louise from Vienna, and the Emperor was to receive her at St. Cloud.

But with his usual impatience, instead of adhering to the arrangement, as soon as he learned that she had passed the frontier, he drove at full speed to meet her. To the surprise and dismay of her attendants, he dashed into a house where she had broken her journey to rest and, although soaked to the skin from having been exposed to the pouring rain, fervidly embraced her. He then hustled her out to his carriage and carried the frightened girl off to his palace at Compiegne. Then he declared his intention of sleeping with her that night. Vigorous protests were made, because the marriage had not yet taken place;

but she had been married by proxy to her uncle before leaving Vienna. Declaring that to be good enough for him, Napoleon whisked her up to bed.

She was quite an attractive girl, with light brown hair, blue eyes and a very fresh complexion, and had a good, somewhat buxom figure; but she was very shy and, not unnaturally, she had been greatly distressed at having to leave her family. When waiting on her one morning in her apartments, Berthier had found her weeping bitterly. She had pointed out to him that everything there was dear to her. There were a tapestry that had been worked by her mother, pictures painted by her uncle Charles, drawings by her sister; and, above all, she was heartbroken at having to leave behind her little pet dog.

In spite of her sadness and timidity, Napoleon was enchanted with her. He could not do enough to reconcile her to exile and, a few days after they reached Paris thanks to Berthier's having hatched a little plot with her father before leaving Vienna he was able to give her a delightful surprise. Unlocking a door, he pushed her into a room and there were her tapestry, her paintings, all the other things she treasured, and her little dog.

To begin with, her shyness caused her to be haughty with the French ladies who formed her Court; but soon she made some good friends, and entertained those with whom she became intimate with the strange trick of being able to wiggle her ears.

The marriage was celebrated in Notre Dame on April 2nd, with almost unbelievable splendour. Not only were there a galaxy of subject Kings and Princes with their consorts, row upon row of High Dignitaries, Ambassadors, Marshals and Generals, but nearly every family of the old French nobility: de Rohan, de Richelieu, de Chevreuse, de Nemours, de Brissac, de Coigny, de Poligniac, de la Tour d'Auvergne, de Chalais and the rest were represented. For the past six years these émigrés had been welcomed back by Napoleon to add lustre to his

Court. They were not permitted to use their old titles, but to many of them he had given new ones when he had created thirty-one Dukes, three hundred and eighty-eight Counts and one thousand and ninety Barons.

Now, on this festive occasion he made a new distribution of honour’s, and Roger found himself elevated to the rank of Count, with which went a pension of thirty thousand francs per annum, as it was Napoleon's practice to ensure that his nobility had ample funds with which to support their dignity. All the Marshals had been endowed with great estates and a few, like Berthier, had revenues of over a million francs a year.

In April, a matter that had been giving Napoleon considerable concern for some time boiled up into a major issue. His fat, neurotic brother Louis, whom he had made King of Holland, far from acknowledging to whom he owed his crown, declared that he had been sent to rule over the Dutch by God's will. On the one hand he taxed his subjects unmercifully to pay for every sort of extravagance; on the other he pleaded their interests as an excuse to thwart Napoleon at every opportunity.

But, in the present instance, he undoubtedly had a case. After Nelson's victory at Trafalgar, it had become clear that for a number of years to come the French Fleet would not again have the strength to challenge the Royal Navy. The invasion of England no longer being a possibility, Napoleon had conceived another means by which he hoped to force Britain into suing for peace.

This was his Continental System, initiated by him in a decree published at Berlin in the summer of 1806. By it every country in which the Emperor's writ ran was ordered to cease importing goods from England, Commerce was Britain's strength, as by it she acquired the great sums with which she had financed France's neighbours to make war on him. Through his System, he expected not only to prevent, from lack of funds, further coalitions being formed against France, but also to reduce Britain to bankruptcy.

But the System proved easier to envisage than to carry out. Britain, having been first in the field with an Industrial Revolution, had become the emporium of Europe for manufactured goods. Moreover, it was her vast merchant fleets that brought to the Continent the products of the tropics, such as sugar, coffee, spices and innumerable other desirable items that had for long added enjoyment to the meals of Europe's millions.

As a result, smuggling had increased to enormous proportions and, while it could to some extent be suppressed in France, many other countries had proved openly recalcitrant. The Pope, for one, had refused to deprive his people of their little luxuries, so Napoleon had had him arrested and imprisoned and annexed the States of the Church. Another, and the worst leak in the blockade, had been Portugal. It was for that reason that Napoleon had sent General Junot with an army to Lisbon and was endeavoring to subdue the whole Peninsula.

Now it was Louis who refused to co-operate, and came to Paris to tell Napoleon that, the Dutch being a nation of merchants, the System was ruining his people and he would not tolerate it. Napoleon replied furiously that if Louis would not, he would remove him from his throne and annex Holland.

However, Louis was given one last chance. It was known that British commerce was suffering cruelly from the embargo, which was bankrupting many of her merchants. So, with the possibility of bringing France's inveterate enemy to heel, Louis was authorized to make overtures to the British Government on the lines that, either negotiations for a peace should be entered upon, or he would give way to the Emperor and close the mouth of the Scheldt.

Soon after the negotiations started, Louis returned to Paris and, in a flaming temper, accused Napoleon of having gone behind his back and sent his own emissary to London with proposals for a cessation of hostilities. With equal rage the Emperor denied it. But Louis produced evidence that an agent named Fagan was actually there.

It was then discovered that Fouche, Talleyrand's powerful partner in the secret endeavours to prevent Napoleon from entering upon further wars had, on his own authority begun peace talks with the British; and that the proposed agreement could have led to a coup d'etat in which the Emperor would have been forced to abdicate.

The proofs were such that Fouche could not deny them. After years of power second only to that wielded by his Imperial Master, he was disgraced, exiled to his estate in Provence, and his Ministry of Police, with its countless thousands of spies operating all over Europe, was given to General Savary, Due de Rovigo.

But that did not save Louis. Soon afterwards he was deprived of his Kingdom, Holland was made a part of France, and he went into exile at Toplitz in Bohemia.

By mid May Roger had been for over two months the Comptroller of Josephine's household and, devoted to her as he was, he felt that the time had come when he could decently ask to be relieved of his appointment; then, with the happy prospect at last of marrying Georgina, return to England. But it would have been highly dangerous simply to resign overnight and leave Paris. The safe course was to return for a few weeks to Napoleon's service until a suitable opportunity arose, such as the Emperor's temporarily leaving Paris, or sending him on a mission, when he could disappear without his absence becoming at once remarked upon.

Accordingly he told Josephine that he was now anxious to seek some form of more active service, and she reluctantly agreed to let him go, assured him that she would always value his friendship, and gave him a diamond encrusted sword-belt as a mark of her appreciation of his companionship at this distressing time in her life.

Two days later he waited on Napoleon, who was in a good mood and glad to have him back. For a week, he again assisted Berthier in organizing the stream of troops and supplies that continued to pour south into Spain. The Emperor then sent for him.

The now paunchy, bullet-headed master of Europe was pacing angrily up and down in front of his desk. Turning toward Roger, he thrust out his great, broad jaw and snapped in his atrocious Italian-accented French:

'Breuc, I have a mission for you. Those accursed Germans are plaguing me beyond all endurance. Neither by requests nor threats can I induce them to carry out my decrees. Hamburg has now become the worst hole in my System. Daily, American ships loaded with British goods arrive in the mouth of the Elbe, and nothing is done about it. My mind is made up. I will tolerate this no longer. I intend to take over Hanover, and make it a part of France.'

Roger raised an eyebrow and, having British mercantile interests in mind, said, 'With all due deference, Sire, might that not lead to more trouble than blocking the hole is worth? I gather that recently there have been quite a number of demonstrations against our troops in the north German lands. The measure Your Imperial Majesty proposes might well lead to open rebellion.'

In the old days Napoleon had often consulted his Marshals and other advisers on his plans, and sometimes modified them in accordance with sound suggestions; but for a long time past his arrogance had become such that, once set on a project, he would listen to no one. Now, he snarled:

'And what if it does? Davout is there as my representative; and he is well termed "the Iron Marshal". He will put down any outbreak that occurs. He takes a pleasure in hanging traitors, spies and every kind of trouble-maker. On my behalf, he'll teach these German curs a lesson they'll not soon forget. Hanover having for so long been subject to England, the people there have treachery toward me in their blood. The more of them that Davout sets dangling at the end of a rope, the better.'

For a minute or two the Emperor resumed his pacing in silence, then he went on more quietly. 'It is to Davout, Breuc that I wish you to go. My intentions in this matter must be kept so secret that it would be dangerous to put them on paper. But he knows that you have long been in my confidence in many matters. Tell him I wish him to alert his most trusted officers; to make certain that none of our garrisons can be surprised and no bridge or key point in communications taken by a coup de main should the Hanoverians elect to rise against us. Then, when I send the word, the whole country can be put in fetters overnight. Now, be off with you.'

Roger bowed himself away in an excellent humour. Nothing could have suited him better than this mission. With every month it was becoming more and more difficult to get clandestinely across from France to England; whereas from a German port it would be comparatively easy. As the Emperors missions brooked no delay, within an hour he was in the saddle and heading north-east. By way of Soissons, Namur, Düsseldorf, Osnabruck and Bremen, in six days of hard riding he reached Hamburg.

During his journey he had had second thoughts about the interests of British commerce, and decided that it would serve his country better if the Germans did rise; since, so many French troops having been withdrawn for service in Spain, it might now prove more than even

Davout could do to hold Hanover down. At the worst, it would become a second running sore for France. He therefore intended to deliver the Emperor's message, but to pervert it slightly. He could give the impression that, although Napoleon meant to annex the country, he did not plan to do so in the immediate future. Meanwhile, he wished Davout to take the severest possible measures against all Hanoverians who expressed anti-French sentiments. The result might then be that this persecution would lead to a popular rising before the Marshal was ready for it.

Louis Nicolas Davout, Due d'Auerstadt and Prince d’Eckmuhl, had taken over as his headquarters the ancient castle near Herrenhausen, just outside the free city of Hamburg. It had been, up till the end of the past century, the residence of the sovereigns of Great Britain when they visited their Kingdom of Hanover. On dismounting in the main courtyard, Roger handed over his horse and asked to be taken at once to the Marshal, only to learn that he was not in Hamburg. Further enquiry of a staff officer produced the information that he had gone to Berlin, in order to discuss with the Ministers of the King of Prussia the question of improving the conditions of the French garrisons in the principal fortresses of that country, which formed part of his command.

Normally, any officer carrying orders from the Emperor would have at once demanded a fresh horse and set off for Berlin. But the prospect of joining Georgina in England now being so close, Roger decided against doing so. Instead he would say that he was going to, but spend the night at an inn, there change into the civilian clothes he had brought with him in his valise and, the following morning, start looking for a ship's captain who, for a handful of gold, would put him across the North Sea.

It then crossed his mind that one of his oldest friends, Fauvelet de Bourrienne, was the Emperor's Minister in Hamburg, and that it would be very pleasant to take the chance of seeing him again. So he rode back down the long avenue of lindens and into the city. At the French Embassy he enquired for the Minister and, shortly afterwards, was shown into his palatial office.

Bourrienne was of noble birth, and had been one of the very few youngsters who had shown kindness to Napoleon when they were cadets together at the military academy at Brienne. On leaving there, he had entered the diplomatic service and, when recalled during the Revolution from a post in Germany, had preferred to remain in exile rather than risk being guillotined. But when Bonaparte became an Army Commander, he had recalled his old friend's intellectual gifts, and written to him guaranteeing him immunity if he would return and become his secretary.

Bourrienne had accepted the offer and, for the eight years that followed, served as Napoleon's Chef de Cabinet. He spoke several languages fluently, had a most retentive brain and could take dictation as fast as even Napoleon could speak; so he had proved invaluable, and for several lengthy periods Roger had worked as one of his assistants.

Unfortunately, in 1805 this extremely able man had made an unlucky speculation which threatened to ruin him, and had recouped his loss by helping himself to the public funds. Napoleon allowed his Marshals to loot conquered countries, rob their churches of gold plate and extort jewels from their nobility; but one thing he would not tolerate was the embezzlement of his own Government's money. So Bourrienne had been dismissed and rendered almost penniless until the Emperor had relented to the extent of giving him this post at Hamburg.

He was delighted to see Roger, who disclosed the reason why he was in Hamburg, although he naturally did not mention that he had no intention of carrying out his mission. For an hour the two friends talked gaily over old times, then Bourrienne insisted that Roger should dine with him and be his guest for the night.

Over dinner they discussed the state of things in North Germany, and Bourrienne described it as a boiling pot, off which the lid would soon be blown. The whole of Hanover, Prussia and their adjoining states were seething with discontent and hatred of the French.

In the previous year there had been several mutinies by German troops, some of which had proved difficult to put down, and two that had caused great consternation. A Prussian Major, named Frederick von Schill, had left Berlin at the head of his regiment of Hussars, crossed the Elbe and carried insurrection into Hesse and Westphalia. He had twice defeated French troops sent against him, capturing prisoners, guns and the fortress of Domitz, Several months had passed before his luck had given out and he had been killed. The Duke of Brunswick had been even more successful. With a corps of volunteers raised in Bohemia, he had invaded Saxony, occupied Dresden and driven off the Westphalian troops commanded by their King, Napoleon's brother Jerome. He had then fought his way right across Germany to the mouth of the Weser and there embarked his men on British ships. He was now commanding them under Wellington in Spain, where they were known as 'The King's German Legion'. Bourrienne predicted even more serious mutinies to come, and probably a rising en masse of the people, who were becoming agitated to fever pitch by the anti-French propaganda of von Stein.

They were still sitting over some fine brandy when a footman came in and told the Minister that General Jomini had called for a document. Bourrienne had him shown in and, as he entered the room, cried, 'Welcome, mon cher General, welcome! You must join us in a glass of brandy. You know de Breuc, of course.'

Jomini was a Swiss. By his writings on military matters he had earned the reputation of a sound strategist. Roger had met him a year or so before, when he had been Chief of Staff to Marshal Soult. Having shaken hands, they sat down together while their host went along to his cabinet to fetch the document. When he returned, he handed it to the General and said:

'It has just occurred to me that, as you are going to Berlin, de Breuc might accompany you. He has dispatches for Davout, and would be on his way there now had I not persuaded him to stay here for the night.'

The General bowed to Roger. 'It would be a pleasure. I should be most happy to have your companionship, and you would find travelling in my coach as fast as and less fatiguing than going by horse.'

Had Roger not called on Bourrienne and disappeared overnight, there would have been no hue and cry after him; but if he did so now, in the morning his host would think that he had left the Palace on some private business and had become the victim of an accident, so the police would be ordered to find him. That left no alternative but to accept Jomini's offer, which he did with no great inward annoyance, as he could easily get back to Hamburg within three or four days.

Accordingly they set off together at six o'clock the next morning, slept the following night in the coach and completed their one-hundred-and-sixty-mile journey in eighteen hours without incident.

At the French Embassy they were given an early breakfast and Roger learned that Davout, although staying there, had spent the night at Potsdam, in order to attend a review being held that morning by King Frederick William. Jomini went about his business and, an hour later, Roger presented himself to the French Ambassador, M. de Brinevillers.

Roger had not met him before, but knew that he was a ci- devant Marquis, who had been a diplomat under the old Monarchy. It was to that, and Napoleon's policy of taking into his service noble, returned exiles, that he owed his appointment. He was a tall, gaunt man with a supercilious air and irritable manner. Roger gained the impression that, like so many of his kind, while ready enough to accept benefits from the Emperor, he despised the new regime and particularly disliked Napoleon's habit of frequently sending soldiers on diplomatic missions.

Their conversation was brief. Afterwards the Ambassador had a footman show Roger up to a bedroom where he could freshen himself up, and stay the night if he wished. Roger then went for a stroll round the city, returning at midday. In the early afternoon Davout drove up, escorted by a guard of Prussian cavalry. Half an hour later, Roger was closeted with him.

The two men had no liking for each other, owing to a passage between them that had taken place some years earlier. At that time Roger had been the Princess Pauline's lover. She had wanted him to marry her, and persuaded him to ask the Emperor for her hand. Napoleon did not wish to quarrel with his favourite sister, so he had not replied with a curt refusal. Instead, with his usual duplicity, he told Roger that if he was to become one of the family he must be given high military rank, and for that he needed special military training. He had then sent him to Davout who, at Bruges, was commanding one of the corps assembled for the invasion of England.

Roger had expected to receive instruction on the high direction of war, and the provisioning of armies. But Davout, on the Emperor's secret instructions, had put him on a course of intensive training for junior officers, which entailed great physical endurance while living on the minimum of rations. Moreover, as Davout disliked officers on the gilded staff, he had, on his own account, temporarily demoted Roger to Lieutenant.

Meanwhile, as Napoleon had expected, the volatile and amorous Pauline had got herself another lover and had become engaged to Prince Borghese. On learning this, Roger had been so furious that he had stolen a horse and ridden hell-for-leather back to Paris. Davout, who was the strictest disciplinarian in the Army, had promptly demanded that Roger should be arrested as a deserter; but the Emperor, having had his little joke, only laughed as he felt that Roger had already been punished quite enough for his temerity.

The affair still rankled, so the interview between the two men was far from cordial. Roger said his piece, declared his intention of starting back for Paris on the following morning, and took an unsmiling leave of the Marshal Prince d’Eckmuhl.

By then dinner was due to be served in half an hour. The Ambassador was already receiving guests in the big salon. Soon after Roger joined them, the usher announced, 'His Excellency Count von Haugwitz, Chief Minister to His Majesty.'

Roger was standing near the door. He had been presented to the Count at the Conference of Erfurt. Their eyes met. Recognition was instant and mutual. The Prussian gave a gasp, pointed at Roger, turned to the Ambassador and cried:

'This… this officer is the man who murdered my brother! I must ask Your Excellency to hand him over to my police, so that he can be tried and executed.'

7

At the End of the Road

For a moment Roger stared in utter consternation at von Haugwitz; but only for a second. Next moment he had regained his composure. Swinging round on the French Ambassador, he declared indignantly:

'Your Excellency, this charge is false! I have never murdered anyone!'

'You are M. le Colonel de Breuc his accuser shot at him angrily.

In such company Roger could not possibly deny his identity. Fighting down his apprehension, he bowed and replied courteously, 'I am Colonel le Comte de Breuc, at Your Excellency's service.'

'Then you are the man!' The Minister's arm shot out, pointing at him again. 'You murdered my brother! Yes and your own wife. At Schloss Langenstein, last September, you did them both to death most foully.'

Davout had entered the room immediately on the heels of the Prussian Chief Minister. His eyes and those of everyone else present were riveted on Roger as he sought desperately to make up his mind what line to take. To speak of the forged von Stein letter would not help him here. Von Hardenberg, the Minister's predecessor had been pro-British. That had been why the Emperor had insisted that King Frederick William should dismiss him and replace him with the pro-French von Haugwitz.

And while his younger brother, the Baron, had served as a diplomat his pro-French attitude had also been widely known. It would not for a moment be credited that he was in communication with von Stein and preparing to lead a rebellion in the Rhineland against the French.

Suddenly Davout said sharply, 'Well, Breuc; have you lost your tongue? Were you at Schloss Langenstein last September? You must answer His Excellency's accusation. Come now, speak up.'

1 was, Your Highness,' Roger replied. 'But I was there on the orders of His Majesty the Emperor.'

'For what purpose?'

'You must excuse me if I refuse to answer that, with-out first obtaining the Emperor's permission.'

'I see. And what of the charge? Did you bring about the death of the Baron and your wife?'

'Their deaths were, Your Highness, an accident. I swear to that.'

'It is a lie,' stormed the Prussian. 'This man was having an affaire with my brother's wife, and made off with her. That very afternoon his own wife and my brother were found dead in the bottom of a wine press. He, and no one else, had both the motive and opportunity to murder them.'

Roger realised that if he admitted to having, with Georgina's aid, carried them from their rooms and lowered them into the press, his case would be hopeless; so he said quickly, 'Anyone who was living in the Schloss had the opportunity, and how do you know that no one other than myself had a motive? The Baron was a hard master. He may have behaved brutally to one of his servants, and the man resolved to be revenged upon him.'

'Had that been the case, the man would not also have killed your wife,' von Haugwitz snapped.

'He might have. All four of us had separate rooms, and the Baron and my wife were lovers. On going to the Baron's room in the middle of the night, the murderer would probably have found her with him. If so, he would have killed her to prevent her raising the alarm. I had no hand in the matter. I swear it.'

The Minister's face was white with rage and hatred. 'I do not believe that for one second,' he snarled, 'and I demand that you be handed over to the Prussian authorities to stand your trial.'

Roger turned swiftly to de Brinevillers. 'In Your Excellency's Embassy I am on French soil. As a Frenchman I claim sanctuary.'

The Ambassador looked uncomfortably, first at von Haugwitz then at Roger and said, 'Monsieur le Colonel Comte, if this were a political charge, I should, of course, be in a position to protect you. But this is a criminal charge.'

'Even so,' Roger insisted, 'I claim your protection. And I do so in the name of His Majesty the Emperor. As I have told you, I went to Schloss Langenstein on his business. I am told that, after my departure, a warrant was issued for my arrest. On arriving back in Paris, I gave His Majesty an account of this whole affair. Realising that it would not be safe for me to re-enter Prussia, I asked him to take steps to quash the charge. He willingly agreed, and said he would inform the Prussian Ambassador, the Baron von Brockenhausen, that he desired the warrant to be withdrawn. Of this there must be a record at your Ministry of Justice.'

'This is another lie,' declared von Haugwitz. 'Were that the case, as this affair concerns me so closely, it is certain that I should have been informed of it.'

Again de Brinevillers looked uneasily at Davout. 'Your Highness will, I am sure, agree that this is a very delicate matter, so I should like to discuss it with you in private.'

The Marshal nodded. 'Very well. I suggest that Colonel le Comte de Breuc should retire to a room where he can be placed under guard. When we have dined, you and I will decide on what is to be done.' Turning to his A.D.G., he added, 'Marchand, take de Breuc to the small library. I make you responsible for his safe keeping.'

As Roger, his head held high, was escorted from the room, he heard the Ambassador apologizing to his guests that the recent scene should have taken place in their presence. There followed a burst of excited conversation, which faded as he walked through the big hall and accompanied the A.D.C. into a small library at the far end.

The room had two tall windows looking out on to a large garden. For a moment he contemplated escaping by one of them. But, to do so, he would have to kill, or render unconscious the AJD.C. Such a desperate act could be taken as an admission of guilt. In any case, it would set Davout and de Brinevillers irrevocably against him, and his only hope lay in their protection.

The A.D.C. was a pleasant man and expressed his sympathy. Roger thanked him, then turned away, as he had no desire to talk and a great need to think.

It could be that the Emperor had forgotten to make his wishes known to von Brockenhausen; but that seemed unlikely as Napoleon's memory was phenomenally good. Again the Prussian Ambassador might have failed to pass on the wish to the proper quarter in Berlin, Yet again it was possible that the memo did lie in a file at the Ministry of justice and that von Haugwitz had not been told about it. Still again, his ardent desire to avenge the death of his brother might have led him to lie deliberately when he had asserted that he knew nothing about the document.

Whichever was the case, Roger would never have dreamed of entering Prussia had he not felt confident that the whole matter had been cleared up and no charge would be made against him. But it was pointless to think of that now. He could only curse himself for having taken the matter for granted, and wonder with no little fear what the outcome would be.

Only too well he realised how unlucky he was that his fate should lie in the hands of two such men as de Brinevillers and Davout. The ci-devant aristocrat, who could no longer call himself a Marquis, obviously had an antipathy for Napoleon's people, and would be particularly unsympathetic toward one, who had been made a Count; while the dour Marshal would not lift a finger to save a man whom he regarded as having once been a deserter.

Over three hours elapsed while Roger endured this terrible suspense. During that time no food was brought to him or his companion and, at length, he asked the A.D C. if he could have a glass of wine. The officer shook his head, and replied:

'I regret, Monsieur le Colonel, but I dare not leave the room. His Highness the Marshal is extraordinarily strict; even more so with his officers than with his men, and particularly so with those in positions of responsibility. He visits any dereliction of duty with the most condign punishments, and my duty is to see that you do not escape.'

Then, damn it, man,' Roger replied angrily, 'use your head. Put it out of the door and shout for a bottle.'

Apologetically the A.D.C. did as he was bid and, soon afterwards, they were silently drinking hock together. Some twenty minutes later, Davout and de Brinevillers came in.

Addressing Roger, the Ambassador said, 'Monsieur le Colonel Comte, His Highness and I have discussed your affair, and I regret that, the charge being a criminal one, I cannot see my way to give you sanctuary here in the Embassy.'

'But, Your Excellency,' Roger pleaded, 'you seem to realise that, should you hand me over to the Prussians, it may cost me my life,'

'You maintain that you are innocent,' Davout remarked coldly. 'If that is so, you will be acquitted.'

'Not necessarily, Prince. Unfortunately, the circumstances in which these deaths took place are very strongly against me. And, against the possibility of an unjust verdict being given, as a French officer it is your duty to give me your protection.'

Davout's eyes narrowed and his brows drew down in an icy frown, as he asked, 'Do you presume to teach me my duty?'

'Yes,' replied Roger firmly. 'Not to myself, but to the Emperor. As I have told you, it was his wish that the charge against me should be withdrawn. If, through some error, his request which to these damned Prussians is tantamount to an order has not reached them, I insist that I be given asylum in the Embassy until a courier has been dispatched to His Majesty and returned with his decision.'

'Very well,' the Marshal agreed. 'Your request is not unreasonable. A courier shall be sent to the Emperor. But in the meantime the decision does not rest with me. It is for His Excellency to say.'

De Brinevillers shuffled uncomfortably and, with his eyes avoiding Roger's, muttered, 'Prussia is our ally, Monsieur le Colonel. It is my responsibility to maintain harmonious relations with King Frederick William's government, and his Chief Minister has made a personal issue of this. As you are charged with a criminal offence of the first order, he has right on his side. I cannot afford to quarrel with him over a matter that has no bearing on the sovereign rights of France. He has already sent here an escort for you, and a formal demand that you should be handed over. I fear that I must comply with it.'

For several minutes longer Roger argued and pleaded in turn, but without avail. The only concession he could secure was a promise that de Brinevillers would use his influence to ensure that no trial took place until there had been ample time for a courier to go to Paris and return. Five minutes later he was under arrest, sitting beside a lieutenant of Police in a closed carriage that drove off accompanied by a mounted escort.

The carriage halted in the courtyard of a large, bleak building that was obviously a prison. Roger was taken inside and put in a narrow but clean cell. He asked for food and a quarter of an hour later a warder brought him a brodchen, in which had been inserted a thick slice of veal, and a mug holding what looked like coffee. Setting down the mug, the man said with a malicious grin:

'No doubt you'll enjoy this. It's a true Frenchie brew made of acorns, as prescribed for us all now by your pig of an Emperor.'

Roger made no reply, and he knew it would be futile to report the man, as it was quite certain no action would be taken against him for insulting the sovereign of France. He thought it probable that the warder's attitude indicated the way in which most Germans now regarded Napoleon; and it boded no good for him as a Frenchman in one of their prisons.

Next morning he was taken to an office and formally charged with the willful murder of his wife and Hen Baron Ulrich von Haugwitz. Afterwards he was searched, He had already surrendered his sword; now a small dagger he always carried, his money belt and the jewels he was wearing were taken from him. Back in his cell, he congratulated himself on having had the forethought the previous night to conceal between his stockings and the soles of his feet six gold pieces; but, in the worst event, they were nowhere near the sum needed to bribe anyone to help him to escape.

The twelve days that followed seemed interminable to him. The food was edible, but of poor quality. The malicious warder evidently put a little salt into the water he brought, which rendered it impossible to drink, so Roger was reduced to falling back on the filthy acorn coffee; which caused him in turn to curse the Emperor and his Continental System. He asked for books and news sheets and was brought a few, but found the German script so difficult to read that he soon gave up the attempt. In vain he tried to persuade himself that Napoleon could not fail to bring about his release. But Paris was a long way off and the Emperor might have suddenly set off on one of his long journeys to Spain, Italy or Austria. Again, some accident might befall the courier who had been sent to Paris, or von Haugwitz be so set on vengeance as to risk his own future by refusing the Emperor's request for the warrant to be withdrawn.

His fears proved only too well founded. On June 13th, a young man named Menou, who was on the staff of the French Embassy, came to see him. Having expressed the Ambassador's regrets, he reported that no message regarding Roger had been received from the Emperor, although ample time had now elapsed for one to do so; and that Roger's trial had been fixed for two days hence.

To outward appearances, Roger took this bad news calmly, but, although he had been endeavoring to prepare himself for such a blow, his heart lurched and seemed to sink to his boots. Having thanked the young man, he asked that a good lawyer should be provided to defend him; to which Menou replied that one had already been instructed and would come to see him on the following day. There being no more to be said, he then bowed him* self away.

Next morning the lawyer arrived. He proved to be a tired-faced, elderly man, named Johan Peffer. The fact that he was a German filled Roger with fury and further dismay. As a distinguished French officer he felt that he was entitled to some consideration. He had expected de Brinevillers to enquire after his well-being while in prison, perhaps send him a gift of books and wine; and, at the very least, come in person to break the bad news of the Emperor's failure to respond. But the Ambassador had done none of these things. And now, by failing to send a French advocate to undertake the defence, he had shown a callous indifference to Roger's fate that was hard to credit.

But time was short, for the trial was to take place the next day, so there was no longer time left to secure another lawyer. All Roger could do was to repeat to the crop headed Prussian what he had said about the tragedy at Schloss Langenstein when he had declared his innocence at the French Embassy. Herr Peffer made copious notes, asked a few pointless questions, gloomily advised pleading 'guilty' which Roger flatly refused to do then glumly took his departure.

At the trial the next day, no senior representative of the French Embassy was present, only young Monsieur Menou. But the trial having been postponed for a fortnight, in order that a courier could be sent to Paris, had cut two ways. It had given ample time for the prosecution to bring a number of witnesses from the Rhineland; so there were several other faces that Roger recognised among them the Baron's steward, Big Karl, and the coachman whom Roger had forced into driving himself and Georgina to Coblenz.

The evidence by the servants that Roger had been the lover of their mistress and, despite their attempts to prevent him, carried her off, was incontestable. And it would have been useless for him to defend his action by stating that he had learned of a plot to murder them both, which was being hatched by his own wife and the Baron, since he had not a tittle of evidence to support it.

But worse was to come. It emerged that, on the discovery of the bodies, the Baron's doctor had been sent for. He now gave evidence that, having examined them, he was of the opinion that they had both had a powerful drug administered to them. That, Roger needed no telling, was a fact. His object in going to Schloss Langenstein had been to save Georgina from the threat of being murdered by her husband. Knowing that it would prove difficult to get her away, he had bought the drug before leaving Vienna, against the possibility that he might have to drug a powerful watch dog.

The Baron's valet followed the doctor and testified to having found the empty bottle that had contained the drug, on the floor of his master's room. The bottle was then produced.

Next, a quietly dressed, elderly man, whose face Roger vaguely recognised, went into the box. When he gave his name before taking the oath, he also stated that he was an Austrian subject. To Roger's utter consternation, he suddenly realised that the man was the apothecary from whom he had bought the drug. Evidence was then given that, the name of the apothecary being on the bottle, he had been questioned in Vienna. Now he identified Roger as the man to whom he had sold it.

That proved the coup de grace. No-one in the court any longer had the least doubt about Roger's guilt. He was sentenced to be executed one week from that day.

8

Resurgent Germany

Back in his cell, Roger endeavored to accept calmly the evil fate that had befallen him. Rack his brains as he would, he could think of no way by which he might attempt to save himself. The factor which rendered him so helpless was his complete isolation. Had he been in a similar situation in Paris or London there would have been a score of influential friends on whom he could have called for aid. By belatedly admitting the truth that he had drugged his wife and the Baron, but had expected them to regain consciousness within a few hours he might have secured a revision of sentence to a term of imprisonment for culpable homicide. But here, in Berlin, he had not a single friend he could call upon to have his case reviewed by a high legal authority. On the contrary, as a Frenchman, every hand was against him.

Yet a lifetime in which he had many times feared his death to be imminent had conditioned Roger never to leave any step untaken that, however slender the chance, might place him in a more favourable situation. So that evening, he asked for paper, ink, a pen, and sand and wrote letters to both de Brinevillers and Davout.

In both letters he confessed that he had been responsible for the deaths of which he had been accused, but maintained that the thought of murder had never even entered his head. He then swallowed his pride, wrote of his many years' service to the Emperor, which His Imperial Majesty had recognised by making him a Colonel, one of his A.D.Cs, a Count and a Commander of the Legion of Honour, and pleaded that, as fellow Frenchmen, they should exert themselves at least to save his life.

But, having secured a promise from one of the senior warders that the letters would reach their destinations, he had little hope that his desperate appeal would move either the haughty, ci-devant Marquis, who had already displayed his indifference, or the hard hearted Marshal, who had long resented having failed to have Roger brought to book as a deserter.

He could assume that his letters would reach de Brinevillers within a few hours and Davout in Hamburg in two days' time. So an acknowledgment of that to the Ambassador might reach him the next day, and that to the Marshal well before the end of the week. But the terrible days dragged slowly by without his receiving a reply from either.

On June 21st, his week would be up. On the morning of the 20th he was taken from the cell he had occupied for three weeks to the condemned cell. At midday, the prison chaplain, a Lutheran pastor, came to see him, and asked if he could assist him to make his peace with God. Roger politely declined the offer, upon which the German, assuming Roger to be a Roman Catholic, said that he would endeavour to get for him the services of a priest. That offer Roger also declined, so, after expressing his sympathy for the prisoner and urging him to face death with fortitude, the chaplain withdrew.

In the afternoon Roger again asked for writing materials and wrote a letter to Georgina, in which he declared their lifelong love to be the greatest blessing ever granted to him. He went on to say how distressed he was that, now she had at long last promised to marry him that could not come to pass. But that since, from their youth onward, such a close bond had been established between their spirits and as they had always agreed when talking of reincarnation, in which they both believed, he had no shadow of doubt that, in future lives, they would again become devoted lovers.

Before ending his letter with blessings upon her, her son Charles and his daughter Susan, whom he knew she would continue to mother as though she were her own child, he inserted a paragraph which ran:

/ pray you do not again ever have doubts about the occult powers with which you have been endowed. You will recall that in Paris, when you gazed into your

‘Crystal, we decided that the vision you saw was a step back in time, and that you were seeing me during the; months I was a prisoner at Guildford. But that was not so. You saw me here in this cell for the condemned, talking with the Lutheran pastor, who came to see me at midday.

When he had finished his letter to Georgina, he wrote another to his oldest friend, Lord Edward Fitz-Deverel, who was known to his friends as 'Droopy Ned'. Having recounted to Droopy how he had at last come to the end of his tether, he asked that, should anything befall Georgina, he would take care of Susan, and gave him a power of attorney to administer the estate she would inherit.

He addressed the two letters, then enclosed them in an outer envelope that contained a note to Bourrienne, Feeling sure that his old friend must know a great deal about the smuggling activities that took place in Hamburg, he asked that his letters to Georgina and Droopy should be sent to England by a safe hand; and he had no doubt that his request would be granted.

When the warder came with Roger's evening meal, he took the letters and, now showing some compassion for a man who was about to die, readily agreed to pass them on to the Governor of the prison for dispatch.

To occupy his mind during this last evening of his life, Roger, lying in his narrow bed, set about recalling many of the perils he had survived and the enjoyment he had derived from the love of a number of beautiful women of most diverse character.

At length his thoughts diverted from the grim fact that at dawn he was to be led out and shot, he dozed off. But soon after midnight he was roused by the opening of his cell door and the light from a lantern carried by his warder.

Behind the warder was the prison Governor. Smiling at Roger he said, 'Monsieur le Comte, it is my pleasant duty to inform you that you have been reprieved. Here is a letter that, I understand, will inform you of the reason for your good fortune.'

Thunderstruck, and hardly able to believe that he was not dreaming, Roger stammered his thanks, took the letter and, when the Governor had withdrawn, opened and read it. It was from Davout; a hasty note scrawled without prefix, and ran:

On my return from an inspection, 1 received your letter, and was greatly surprised to learn that His Imperial Majesty had not responded to your appeal which, I understood, de Brinevillers was sending to him. As a Frenchman dedicated to the service of our great Emperor, and knowing that you once, when in Venice, saved his life, I could not find it in me to allow matters to take their course. I therefore took it upon myself to exert great pressure upon King Frederick William. In consequence, His Majesty has agreed to commute your sentence to ten years' imprisonment.

Ten years! From sudden wild elation, Roger's spirits swiftly sank. Such a sentence was appalling to contemplate. He would be over fifty before he was released and by then such zest for life as remained to him would be for ever gone. The thought of the discomfort and poor prison fare were bad enough, but the prospect of month after month dragging by, without change of scene or activity, was even worse.

From his boyhood on he had led a fuller life than any of his contemporaries he could think of. He had travelled in nearly every country in Europe, visited Egypt, Persia, the West Indies, Zanzibar, India and Brazil; crossed the Channel clandestinely a score of times, ridden many thousands of miles, been present at the battles of the Nile, Marengo, Eylau, Austerlitz and numerous other conflicts, and had personally transacted affairs of state with Kings and Ministers. Moreover, while he was too fastidious to be promiscuous, several of the most beautiful women he had ever set eyes on had become his mistresses.

A future in which he was confined by the grey walls of a prison would, he knew, be for him a living death; and he almost wished that instead he was to face a firing squad within a few hours. But, after a while, his old resilience to misfortune returned. He had escaped from prison on several previous occasions; so, given patience, he might succeed in doing so again.

On re- reading Davout's letter, he saw that it provided a possible explanation for a thing that had greatly puzzled him. He had never for one moment believed that, if informed of his situation, the Emperor would abandon him to his enemies; particularly to the Prussians, whom he loathed and had often contemptuously referred to as 'a miserable, semi-barbarian people'. It was evident that Davout had expected de Brinevillers to send a courier to Napoleon and, indeed, it was the Ambassador's, not the Marshal's business, to have done so. It now looked as though, either from spite or idleness, de Brinevillers had failed to carry out his promise; and Roger determined, if he could regain his freedom, to call the haughty, ci-devant Marquis to account.

Next morning he was required to part with his uniform and put on a suit of convict's clothes. He was then taken in a prison van to another prison on the outskirts of Berlin. There, after being entered on the register, he was given a somewhat better cell than that he had been occupying, and his dreary round as a long-term prisoner began.

The food was sufficient, but monotonous and unpalatable. As a noble, he was not made to work, and allowed paper, writing materials and a limited number of books, with which to while away the hours. Twice a day he was taken down to an inner courtyard for exercise with a number of the prisoners. While they marched round and round in single file, they talked to one another in whispers; but they had soon learned through the prison 'grapevine' that Roger was a Frenchman, so they promptly sent him to Coventry, condemning him to an isolation that he found hard to bear.

Even so, by overhearing their low-voiced exchanges, he was able to pick up a certain amount of information; and in July was saddened by a piece of news that distressed them all. Queen Louisa of Prussia had died.

She had been a beautiful and gallant lady, and the idol of her nation, filling the need of her subjects for a truly patriotic figurehead, in which her cowardly husband had so lamentably failed. Roger had been presented to her at the Conference of Erfurt, and recalled how bravely, but vainly, she had striven to persuade Napoleon to return the great fortress of Magdeburg to Prussia, and lighten the terrible burden of taxation under which her people groaned.

Early in August he heard of another event that filled his German fellow prisoners with fury and apprehension. In a brilliantly-executed coup, Davout had taken over Hanover without a shot being fired, and that country had become part of the French Empire. As Davout commanded not only in Hanover, but also the French garrisons in all the major fortresses in north Germany, the Prussians naturally feared that Napoleon's next move would be to dethrone their King, and that they, too, would be deprived of even the shadow of independence.

During these weeks, Roger had studied with the utmost care the prison routine and the precautions taken to prevent prisoners from escaping. To his great disappointment he found that in this respect the Prussians were much more thorough than the people of most other nations, so that, apart from the remote possibility of some unexpected happening, there seemed no likelihood of his regaining his freedom. He was still further depressed by his belief that, given the co-operation of a group of his fellow prisoners, he might possibly have organized a mass break-out; but their antagonism toward him put that out of the question.

However, Hanover having become a French province overnight had resulted in a new wave of unrest in Prussia. In every town, crowds singing patriotic songs marched through the streets and demonstrated outside the town halls. In several places troops mutinied and manifestos were reaching the King and his Ministers daily, urging them to throw off the French yoke.

Although Frederick William was the most unwarlike of Kings, he was an intelligent and liberal-minded man. Before the French invasion, the common people had groaned under a serfdom similar to that in Russia; but defeat had brought to the nations benefits previously undreamed of. Stein, Scharnhorst, Gneisenau, Shon, von Hardenberg and others of the King's advisers had urged! upon him that the only way to put fresh heart into the nation was by sweeping reforms; and he had agreed.

Serfdom had been abolished, the ownership of land previously restricted to the upper classes was made available to all, centralization was replaced by local government, and a great programme for increasing education entered upon.

For the first time a university was established in Berlin, and others were given large grants which enabled them to increase their student bodies greatly. And now it was the students who were the mainspring of the anti-French agitation. Incited by the writings of Stein, Fichte, Steffens, von Humboldt and many more, they were demanding with patriotic frenzy that their country should no longer remain subservient to the hated Emperor. Since his victory he had milked Prussia of over six hundred million francs, and his Continental System was leading to the bankruptcy of hundreds of merchants. A secret society for the liberation of Prussia, named the Tugenbund, had been formed, and was joined enthusiastically by members of all classes.

With October there came a fresh wave of riots aimed at forcing the Government to act and break off the alliance with France. Many of the leaders of these demonstrations were arrested and several score of them were brought to Roger's prison. It soon became so crowded that another truckle bed was put into his cell, and he was given for a companion a long-haired youth who was one of the agitators.

The young man's name was Hans Grotten. On learning that Roger was a Frenchman, he abused him and his master until he was out of breath. Roger took it quietly, then told him that the majority of Frenchmen, and even more their women, now hated the Emperor as much as the Germans did. This greatly surprised Grotten, and when Roger explained how Napoleon was bleeding France white, and that the greater part of his soldiers had not seen their homes for half a dozen years, the fiery student became less antagonistic.

Even so, his bitterness was not against the tyrant Emperor only, but the French as a nation. He said that wherever their garrisons were stationed, they regarded themselves as a superior race, and behaved like ravening beasts. In the daytime they pushed people out of their way and, at night, waylaid and robbed them. They made constant requisitions of horses, carts, cattle and poultry, for which they did not pay, and no woman was safe from being dragged off into the bushes by them. Complaints against them were useless, as their officers treated the Prussian authorities with contempt.

With the introduction of the students and liberal intellectuals into the prison, a new excitement began to seethe among the older inmates. This was caused by daily demonstrations outside the prison by mobs demanding the release of the newcomers. Bets of clothing and small personal possessions were being freely made on whether the Government would or would not give way. The demonstrations developed into riots and, on two evenings in succession, shots were fired. It then leaked out that the authorities had become frightened that the mob would break into the prison and forcibly release the captive agitators; so the prison was to be evacuated and the prisoners transferred to the fortress of Spandau.

On October 10th, the prisoners were roused in the early hours of the morning, hustled downstairs by the warders, now reinforced by troops, and herded into a long line of prison vans. While this measure was being carried out, Roger looked eagerly about him, hoping for a chance to escape. But one of the soldiers had a bayonet pointed at his back, so he dared not make a dash for it. Within a few minutes of having reached the main courtyard, he was compelled to enter one of the vans, into which were already crowded a dozen other prisoners.

The doors were slammed and locked. The van moved off at a walking pace. It traversed about a mile; then faintly, its occupants heard shouts. They increased to a roar. The van came to a halt. Pressed against one another inside, the prisoners were seized with a fever of excitement.

It was evident that the plan to transfer them to Spandau in the middle of the night had become known to the insurgents, who had laid an ambush with the intention of rescuing them. Shots were fired. Their hearts sank, as it seemed very doubtful if the mob would be able to overcome the armed escort. The hubbub increased. The captives hammered with their fists on the sides of the van and threw their weight against the doors in an endeavour to burst them open. They yielded a little, but the lock and bolts were too strong to be forced. With cries of desperation, they renewed their efforts, but still the doors could not be opened.

Suddenly there came the crash of steel on iron. The whole van shook. Blow after blow followed. Someone outside was making a mighty effort to smash the doors in with a big axe or crowbar. The wooden panels splintered. Eager hands tore aside jagged pieces regardless of splinters and laceration. Another minute and the captives were tumbling pell-mell out of the van into the cheering crowd that milled about it.

Roger scrambled to his feet. There was a quarter moon, which gave enough light for him to take in the wild scene. Not a soldier was in sight; neither were there any dead or dying students lying in the roadway. Evidently the troops were in sympathy with the would be liberators of their country. They must have fired over the heads of the crowd, then made off to avoid having to use their bayonets. Without waiting to thank his deliverers,

Roger pushed his way through the mob and ran down a side road as fast as his legs could carry him.

He did not pause until he was breathless, then he continued on at a fast walk till he had put well over a mile between himself and the spot where the prison vans had been ambushed. The shouting had died away in the distance. Feeling himself safe now from immediate recapture, he sat down on a grassy bank at the roadside to bless his luck and consider how best he could retain his freedom.

He still had the six gold pieces that he had kept concealed under the soles of his feet during the seventeen miserable weeks he had spent as a prisoner. That would be enough to get him to Hamburg, but nothing like sufficient to bribe a smuggler to run him across the North Sea. Moreover, he felt an overwhelming urge to settle accounts with de Brinevillers before leaving Berlin.

Having rested for a time, he began to walk again, now heading towards the eastern end of the city. When he reached k, dawn was coming up and people were already stirring in the tumbledown shacks and tenements. For an hour he loitered in a deserted alley, then when the shops began to open he furtively made his way along the street until he came to a second-hand-clothes dealer. Peering cautiously in, he saw that the proprietor was an elderly Jew. Well aware that this downtrodden race was always sympathetic toward those in conflict with the authorities, Roger went in.

The suit he was wearing gave away the fact that he was an escaped convict, and he did not seek to conceal the fact. Instead he said that he was a journalist who had been imprisoned for writing an article abusing the Government for its subservient attitude to the hated French, and was desperately anxious to obtain clothes that would enable him to make his way back to his home in Hesse Kassel, He could not have posed as a Berliner, but his hoch-deutch was quite good enough for him to be accepted as a south German; and when he produced one of his pieces of gold, the Jew, displaying his yellowed fangs in a smile, showed that he was quite willing to bargain with him.

The bargain driven was a hard one, as Roger had to part with two of his pieces of gold. But in exchange he got a patched pair of trousers, a padded cotton jacket, a dark cloak ragged at the seams and a felt hat with a floppy brim that would partly conceal his face.

Now confident of avoiding trouble should he run into a patrolling policeman, his next visit was to a shop that, among other things, sold aids for the war wounded. Many poor wretches had lost an eye in the fighting, so a black eyeshade would help to make him more difficult to recognize without making him conspicuous. Having purchased one, in the same shop he bought a long, sharp knife, which he concealed in the upper part of his trousers, and several lengths of thin, but strong cord.

Now hungry, he went to a small general store, at which he obtained a loaf of bread, a pound of ham, some slices of apfel strudel, a slab of chocolate and a bottle of wine. His mouth watering at the thought of consuming these delicacies after several months of prison fare, he hurriedly sought a place where he could lie up for the day. After twenty minutes spent exploring noisome alleys, he came upon a big timber yard. The place seemed to be deserted, so he decided that it would serve and, further exploration having brought him to a shed, he settled himself comfortably in it on a pile of sacks. After gorging himself on the good things he had bought, he stretched himself out and was soon fast asleep.

He did not wake until well on in the afternoon. Hungry again, he had another enjoyable meal, then whiled away the evening hours as well as he could, thinking of Georgina, the joy of being back in England and how he could best get de Brinevillers on his own.

Patiently he waited until he judged it to have been dark for well over two hours; then he started on his long trudge to the other end of the city. When he reached it a clock in a tower told him that it was still much too early to carry out the plan he had formed, so he went into the Tiergarten and sat on a bench there for a long spell. At last the hour of ten chimed from a nearby steeple. Getting up, he stretched himself and, after taking several wrong turnings, found his way to the French Embassy.

As he had spent the best part of a day at the Embassy, he knew the general layout of the big mansion and that it had a fine garden. An ill-lit alley ran along the wall at the end and, after carefully reconnoitering the wall, he found a place where he could scale it. On the spikes at the top he tore his cloak, but it was already so ragged that the additional tear made little difference. He was only apprehensive now that there might be a watch dog loose in the garden. But as he scrambled to the ground, only the crunch of his feet on dead twigs disturbed the stillness.

Advancing cautiously, he surveyed the back of the house. There were lights in the uncurtained windows of two of the ground-floor rooms. Above them was a terrace, from which a broad flight of stone steps led down to the garden. Along the terrace ran the reception rooms. To Roger's relief they were all in darkness, showing that de Brinevillers was not entertaining that night. From all but one room on the second floor, the gentle glow of candles showed through drawn curtains. In all such mansions they were the best bedrooms, and the people who occupied them would be getting ready for bed. He had little doubt which was de Brinevillers' room, because the central room was much larger than the others and had a big bay window. It could be taken as certain that the

Ambassador would have chosen this principal bedroom for himself and, as he was unmarried, sleep alone there.

The moonlight was sufficient for Roger to see that one window of the room was open. Had it not been, he would either have had to take a far greater risk to reach the room by some other means, or abandon his project altogether. There were also lights in several of the lesser bedrooms on the two upper floors.

Withdrawing, Roger went in search of the gardener's domain. It proved to be a good sized outhouse with a loft. On the ground floor, with spades, scythes and other implements, there were two ladders. The longer would easily reach from the terrace to de Brinevillers' bedroom windows. On trying its weight, Roger found that, although it would need all his strength, he should be able to haul it upright.

Not far from the back of the house there were several lofty trees. Gliding over to one of them, Roger climbed up into a fork. From there he could see down into the uncurtained ground-floor rooms. In one, a secretary was still at work, in the other a footman in his shirt sleeves was belatedly cleaning silver. The light in one bedroom had now gone out, but one showed in that which had previously been unlit. As it was next to the principal bedroom, Roger guessed that it was probably the Ambassador's clothes closet.

One by one during the next hour the lights went out, until the great building was in darkness. Coming down from his perch, Roger went again to the gardener's outhouse. Going up to the loft he found some sacking and a ball of stout twine. Descending, he bound thick pads of sacking round both ends of the ladder, so that when he dragged it up the stone steps to the terrace, it would make no noise. He then partly lugged and partly carried it to the foot of the steps and laid it down there. He had more than halved the effort needed to bring it into use but it was still much too early to make his attempt on de Brinevillers.

Another hour or more went by. When he heard one o'clock chime from a nearby steeple, he decided that the time had come to act.

9

Death Stalks at Midnight

By that time, unless there was someone ill or wakeful in the house, all the inmates should be in their first deep sleep. Lifting one end of the ladder, Roger drew it slowly up the steps until he had it on the terrace. Next came the critical stage. Could he get it up against the windowsill? To raise it needed every ounce of his strength. For one awful moment he feared that it was going to overbalance and fall backwards on him; but a final effort was just sufficient to sway it in the right direction.

Standing back, he closed his eyes and mopped the sweat from his forehead, then remained quite still until his heart had ceased pounding and his breathing had returned to normal. Testing every rung of the ladder before putting his full weight on it, he made his way up to the window. As he opened it further,, it creaked a little. For a full minute he held his breath, but no sound came from inside the room. Putting a leg over the sill he slipped inside. He was now behind the heavy curtain. Gently he drew it a little aside, so that the moonlight should filter in and, by it, he could see the position of the bed. It was a big four-poster, half way along the room and sideways on to the window. The mound of bedclothes showed that someone was sleeping there. For a second it occurred to Roger what a fool he would have made of himself if, after all, it was not the Ambassador.

Having edged round the curtain, he drew the long knife from his trouser belt and, putting his feet down flat as he took each step, advanced to the bedside. Laying a hand on the sleeper's shoulder, he gave it a gentle shake. As the shoulder moved with a jerk, he said in a low, clear voice:

'Attempt to call for help and I will drive my knife straight down into your heart.¹

A man's head came up and a voice gasped, 'Who… who are you?'

The voice was that of de Brinevillers. His mind now at rest, Roger whispered, 'My name is Death, and I have come to claim you.'

'No, no! This cannot be!' the Ambassador exclaimed. Struggling up into a sitting position, he stared in terror at the dark, cloaked figure wearing a hat with a floppy brim.

'If I am not Death, at least I carry it,' Roger said quickly. 'Reach for your tinder box and light your bedside candle. Then you will know me. But one cry and you will never speak again.'

With trembling hands, de Brinevillers lit the candle, then jerked round his head to look at Roger's face. As he recognised him, he whispered hoarsely, 'De Breuc… I thought…'

'No matter what you thought,' Roger cut him short. 'I am here to ask you only one question. Why did you not send a courier to the Emperor?'

'I… I assumed that the Prince d’Eckmuhl was doing so,' the terrified Ambassador stammered.

'Ha!' Roger exclaimed. 'I guessed as much; but, in fairness to you, had to make certain. Had you had the sense to lie and maintain that you had sent the courier, I could not have proved otherwise. As it is, you have condemned yourself out of your own mouth. It is you who are Ambassador to the Court of Prussia, not Davout. It was your responsibility to do your utmost to protect a French officer from the malice of Prussia's Chief Minister.

By your callous indifference, you left me to die. Tell me now, can you give me any good reason why I should not make you pay for that with your life?'

Tears started to de Brinevillers' eyes and began to run down his cheeks. Clasping his hands, he broke into desperate pleading:

'Colonel! Monsieur le Comte! I beg of you to spare me. At the thought of my negligence I now grovel for pardon. But clearly God did not intend you to die for your sentence was commuted. And now you must have escaped from prison. You are far from safe yet though. Without help the chances are you will be caught before you can get out of Prussia. I offer myself now as your life line. I will provide money, horses, a good disguise everything and make certain that you get safely across the border.'

'Yes, you will provide me with money, horses, everything,' Roger sneered, 'then betray me within five minutes of my leaving you. Is it likely that I'd trust you? Do you take me for a fool? Now lie down and turn over on your stomach.'

'No, no!' wailed the wretched man. 'Have mercy! Spare me, I implore you.'

Roger gave him a swift prick in the arm with his long knife and said harshly, 'Do as you are bid. I do not mean to kill you; at least, not yet.'

At this partial reassurance de Brinevillers squirmed over, so that he lay face downwards. Roger put down his knife near the lower end of the bed, where he could snatch it up again in a moment, produced one of the pieces of thin cord from his pocket; pulled down the bedclothes and said:

'Now put your hands behind your back.' With a groan, the Ambassador obeyed. When Roger had lashed his prisoner's hands firmly together, he told him to sit up and asked where he kept his money.

De Brinevillers shook his head, 'I have none up here.

The Embassy funds are kept locked up down in the basement. But let me ring for my valet. I'll shout to him through the door to rouse our Chancellor. He has the key and will bring up any sum for which you like to ask.'

Roger laughed. 'And have him raise the house about my ears? No, thank you. But if you've no money here, I’ll vow it's in this room you keep your jewels. They will do instead.'

As he spoke, he gave a quick glance round the room, and his eye fell on a small, brass bound chest. Nodding toward it, he added, 'I doubt not they are in there, and I see your keys are here beside your bed. Now, hold up your head and open your mouth. I've no mind to let you shout for help while my back is turned.'

Sweat and tears streaming down his face, de Brinevillers obeyed. Taking another piece of cord from his pocket, Roger thrust the middle of it into his victim's mouth and tied the two ends firmly behind his head; so that he could still gurgle but not cry out.

Moving over to the door, Roger locked it then picked up the keys and went over to the little treasure chest. When he had unlocked it he saw that it had in it a considerable quantity of jewels and a small bag of gold thalers. As he pocketed several fine rings, brooches and diamond shoe and hat buckles, he smiled over his shoulder,' 'Tis only fair that you should pay for my journey back to France, and such of these pretty trinkets as are over I'll keep as souvenirs of this merry meeting. Now for some more suitable clothes. Get out of bed and walk to the door of your closet.'

Again de Brinevillers did as he was told. Roger came up behind him, loosened the gag and said, 'It may be that your man sleeps in the closet. If so, as I open the door you'll immediately order him to remain silent. Should he not, I'll have to kill you both. And you will be the first, for I'll drive my knife through your back.' He then thrust his hand past the Ambassador's waist, gripped the door-knob, turned it and pushed the door open.

The room was in darkness and there was no sound. Roger tightened the gag again and retied the knot.

Turning away, he lit a second candle from the first, kneed de Brinevillers in the backside, which made him stagger forward, and followed him into the closet.

The window was at one end of the long, narrow room; at the other there was a mahogany commode with, on one side of it, a washstand carrying a basin and ewer and, on the other, a small table on which there were a writing pad and a crayon for making notes. Both sides of the room were lined with hanging cupboards and presses. One after the other Roger opened them and took out undergarments, a coat and waistcoat of fine blue cloth, a pair of white buckskin breeches, silk stockings, a frilled lawn shirt, a gold-laced hat, leather riding gloves, a pair of tall boots, spurs and a grey, triple-collared cloak. Stripping to the buff, he threw the dirty, ragged garments he had been wearing on to the floor.

Having dressed himself in his purloined finery, he took a good look at the row of various shaped bottles on a shelf above the washstand. He had no intention of harming de Brinevillers unless it proved necessary, but was determined to humiliate him, and decided that the commode and the items on the shelf provided an adequate means of doing so.

The Ambassador had continued to stand near the door in resigned misery. Roger gave him a push towards the commode then pulled off the pointed nightcap he was wearing, opened it up and put it point downwards in the china receptacle. Tipping only a little water from the ewer into the basin he proceeded to lather his hands well with soap. Having rinsed them he poured the soapy water into a large tooth glass. Swallowing it would, he felt sure, cause anyone to be sick, but he had a mind to make a thorough job of his project; so from various bottles on the shelf he added spoonfuls or a dash of Macassar hair-oil, eau-de-Cologne, hand lotion, bath essence, laxative and insect repellent, until the tumbler was full. Setting the glass down, he made de Brinevillers kneel in front of the commode, then undid his gag and said to him harshly:

'You will now drink this concoction. Should you refuse or attempt to spit it out, I'll slice your ears off.' As he spoke, he picked up the tumbler and held it to the Ambassador's lips.

The wretched man's hands were still bound behind his back, so he could put up no effective resistance. Muttering a curse, he took a sip of the repulsive mixture, screwed up his face and shied away.

With a swift flick of his wrist Roger drew the point of his knife across his victim's right cheek, and snapped, 'Come now! No nonsense! Drink it down or it will be the worse for you.'

The cut was barely skin deep but blood began to ooze from it and it had been painful enough for renewed terror to cause sweat again to break out on de Brinevillers' forehead. Leaning forward he took a gulp from the glass. As he swallowed he made a hideous grimace and his eyes bulged.

Roger grinned. 'That's better, now another.' But the kneeling man violently shook his head and spat out what little of the filthy mixture there remained in his mouth.

'So little Brinne means to be naughty eh?' Roger was frowning now. 'Then nannie must help him take his med-die.' Having laid his knife down on the washstand, he suddenly shot out his free hand and seized the Ambassador by the nose. As he opened his mouth to gasp for breath, Roger lifted the glass against his lower lip and poured half its contents down his gullet.

Still held firmly by the nose, he writhed in agony. His eyes started from his head and sweat, mingling with the blood on his cheek, poured down his face. After a good, long minute, Roger let go of him. His stomach heaved, he gave a great belch and jerking forward his head was violently sick into the nightcap-lined commode.

For several minutes he remained there vomiting and retching. When he lifted his head he was gasping desperately for breath and tears were streaming from his eyes. But Roger still had no mercy on him. Seizing his nose again tightly between finger and thumb, he poured the remaining contents of the glass down de Brinevillers' throat. There followed an agonized gurgle, another great belch and, a moment later, the callous diplomat who had left Roger to die was again being as sick as a poisoned dog.

For minutes on end, with only brief intervals between, violent internal explosions caused the contents of the Ambassador's stomach to spurt up out of his mouth and down his nostrils, while pressure on his bowels caused their muscles to give way. When his stomach had become as empty as a drum his tormented retching still continued and, from breathlessness and agony, he was near fainting,

Roger, meanwhile, had not been idle. With some more lengths of cord he lashed his victim firmly to the commode, so that his head was held down immediately above the china receptacle that held his vomit. The closet now stank to high heaven and, knowing that it would continue to do so until it was opened and aired, Roger fired his parting shot. Turning to the small table on the far side of the commode, he wrote in clear letters on the notepad.

Perfume suited to the character of M. de Brinevillers with the compliments of M. le Colonel Comte de Breuc.

As it was now some twenty-four hours since Roger had escaped, the hunt for him would already be up; so having left his 'card' at the Embassy would not increase his danger of being recaptured. But de Brinevillers' valet would find his master in the morning, and it was most unlikely that the man could refrain from telling his fellow servants such a juicy story; so all the odds were that before nightfall half of Berlin would learn who had inflicted this terrible indignity on the hated French Ambassador, and be laughing their heads off about it.

Without another word to his victim, Roger left him, snuffed the candles and descended the ladder into the garden. Ten minutes later, he was over the wall and walking gaily down a still silent street, as though he were a gallant who had just spent a few hours with his mistress.

For the remainder of the night he again sat on a bench in the deserted Tiergarten. Soon after dawn he left it and walked out into the street. Swaggering into a nearby inn that had just opened, he enjoyed a hearty breakfast. As he paid his score, he asked the whereabouts of the nearest horse dealer. De Brinevillers would not yet have been found; but even so time was now precious, as he could describe the clothes Roger had taken. At the horse-dealer's, he bought with the Ambassador's thalers the best mare available and saddlery for her. By eight o'clock he was riding out of Berlin in the direction of Stettin, which lay to the north. Having laid this false trail for ten mileshe turned west and, by byroads, got on to the main road for Hamburg. Stopping only to snatch four meals at wayside inns and to doze in the parlours of two of them for g couple of hours, he reached Hamburg in the afternoon on the 12th.

During his long ride he had had ample time to think out what would be best for him to do when he got there. It was certain that von Haugwitz would have been informed of his escape and do his utmost to have him recaptured. The Minister's writ ran only in Prussia, but he could request the authorities in neighboring States to have Roger looked for and, if found, apply for his extradition; so to get out of north Germany as speedily as possible was imperative.

Even in such a large port, to find a smuggler to put him across the North Sea might take several days, so he had decided to risk a big gamble. There was little Bourrienne did not know about the illicit trade carried on with England, and he had frankly told Roger that he was making a fortune by winking his eye at it. Roger had, therefore, made up his mind to throw himself on the mercy of his old friend.

On arriving at the Palace, he did not dare send up his own name. However, apart from the private apartments, such places were open to anyone who cared to walk into them. So, having handed over his horse, he walked boldly upstairs to the ante-room beyond which Bourrienne's office was situated. As Bourrienne was not a military commander, there was no sentry on the door, but several people were standing about there. Mingling with them, Roger waited his chance. Then, as a portly German came out, he thrust aside a footman, stepped through the door and slammed it behind him.

Bourrienne was seated at a big desk near the window. Beside him a secretary was standing taking dictation. As Roger entered, they both looked across at him. Bourrienne's mouth dropped open in amazement. Before he could speak, Roger put his finger to his lips, enjoining silence. With a little nod of understanding, Bourrienne told the secretary to leave the room. Immediately the door had closed behind him, Roger's old friend exclaimed:

Mon Dieu! Can it really be you? I thought you dead these three months gone.

Roger shook his head. 'No Davout succeeded in getting my sentence reduced to ten years' imprisonment. Did he not tell you?'

'No. He said not a word of it. But both of us are fully occupied by our duties, so we see very little of each other. Mon vieux, I am delighted. Yes, delighted.'

With a feeble smile, Roger said, 'Alas, I am far from out of the wood yet. A student riot when I was being transferred from one prison to another enabled me to escape. But I stole the clothes I wear, so could be identified by them if my enemy, von Haugwitz, asks the assistance of the Hanoverian police.'

Bourrienne laughed. 'My dear fellow, perhaps in prison you did not learn of it, but Hanover is now part of France. I am no longer Ambassador here, but Civil Administrator. No-one dare touch you, and whenever you wish I can send you back to Paris.'

Roger had not realised that this would be one of the effects of the changed state of Hanover; and, while he had been confident that his old friend would not give him up, he had felt that for him, as an Ambassador, to agree to compromise himself by getting a wanted criminal out of north Germany was quite another matter. After a moment, he said:

'Of course, I should have known that. But 'tis not to France though that I wish to go. You have yourself experienced the Emperor's ingratitude to those who have served him. In my case he could not be bothered to save me from a firing squad, and in any event I am sickened unto death of his eternal wars; so I do not mean to return to him. As you know, I was born in Strasbourg; but my mother was English and I have numerous English relations, When I have been over there secretly on the Emperor's business, little suspecting my perfidy, they have treated me most kindly. If I can possibly get there I have decided to forswear war for the future and make England my home.In making that statement he knew that he was maligning Napoleon but it was essential for him to win Bourrienne's sympathy.

His friend considered for a moment, then smiled. 'To get you across should not be difficult. I have many contacts with merchant Captains who keep me supplied with coffee and other luxuries. I am certain that, in the course of a few days, I can arrange matters. But, my poor friend, you look sadly worn.'

Fingering the stubble on his chin, Roger replied, 'I am indeed. I rode desperate hard from Berlin and am in great need of sleep. If you can, as you think, get me to England, I'll be for ever grateful, but at the moment I'd bless you for a bed.'

One side of the room was lined with book-shelves. Bourrienne pressed a secret spring and a section of them swung forward, revealing a narrow passage. Beckoning to Roger, he led the way along it, up a flight of stairs to his private apartments. Showing Roger into a bedroom, he said:

'No one will disturb you here. Later I will call you in time to shave and wash before we sup together. I have a dinner engagement that I cannot break; but I shall be back by nine o'clock.'

With a nod of thanks, Roger began to pull his clothes off. In no time he had tumbled into bed and was sound asleep. Five hours later he was still sleeping when Bourrienne's valet woke him. The man had already brushed his clothes and lit a fire in the room. In front of it Roger was soon lathering himself in a hip bath. Greatly refreshed, and infinitely relieved to know that he had nothing more to fear, he joined Bourrienne in a room along the corridor where, before setting out for Berlin, he had dined with him.

Over the meal Roger gave an account of his trial, the miserable months he had spent in prison, his escape and how he had avenged himself on de Brinevillers. At the thought of the haughty, ci-devant Marquis in the position in which Roger had left him, Bourrienne laughed uproariously; then he said:

'And all this while I believed you dead. No doubt about that crossed my mind, because I saw an account of your execution in a Berlin news sheet. At least, one which appeared on the day it should have taken place. The affair had created such a stir that three whole columns were devoted to it, and the article ended with the gleeful statement that the fiendish French murderer, Breuc, had met a death too good for him in front of a firing squad that morning.'

Roger nodded. 'The article must have been written the previous day and printed during my night in the condemned cell. But tell me, did you receive the two letters I sent you, and forward them to England?'

"Yes; and by a safe hand. The captain who took them has since returned and reported to me having dispatched them in Harwich. They reached me on the same morning as the article, so I enclosed it in the letter for the Lord Edward Fitz-Deverel'

Bourrienne then gave Roger an interesting piece of news. Toward the end of August, Marshal Jean Baptiste Bernadotte had been invited by the Swedish Diet to become their Crown Prince.

Roger had at one time been sent by Mr. Pitt on a mission to Sweden, so he knew the history of its royal dynasty. The Vasas had, at one time, ruled over a great part of the Baltic lands, including Finland in the north and German Pomerania to the east. The able and warlike King, Gustavus III, had fought Catherine the Great of Russia and, being fanatically opposed to the French Revolution, had enthusiastically joined the First Coalition, in the hope of crushing this new People's State. But, in March '92, he had been assassinated by masked intruders at a ball, and that had brought to an end Sweden's era as a great power.

He had been succeeded by young Gustavus Adolphus IV, another fanatical champion of legitimacy, but having an unbalanced mind. After launching a disastrous assault on Bernadotte, who was then commanding in northern Germany, he had, against the advice of his generals and nobility, sent his army against that of Russia in Finland, whilst himself remaining in Stockholm and directing it in such a crazy fashion that it had been defeated piecemeal. By March 1809, his people had become so angered that they had supported his leading men in deposing him.

The autocratic powers of the Crown had then been greatly reduced, so that Sweden had become a constitutional Monarchy, with a Diet to be re-elected every five years, and Gustavus' uncle had ascended the throne as Charles XIII. Having no son, he had recognised as his heir a Danish connection, Prince Christian Augustus, and made peace with Russia by ceding Finland. But in the following year, which was the present one, Prince Christina had died as a result of a fit of apoplexy.

That much Roger knew, and from there Bourrienne took up the story. Charles XIII being old and feeble, and it having become apparent that inbreeding had brought madness into the Vasa strain, the Swedish magnates had decided to invite some healthy and vigorous man to become heir to the throne.

For several years past Napoleon had been gobbling up Europe, so what better insurance could there be against his deciding to swallow Sweden than to ask one of his Marshals to become their Prince Royal? Their choice had fallen upon Bernadotte for the following reasons:

He was not only a general of the first rank. When, as Napoleon's Viceroy, he had governed north Germany, he had shown himself to be a brilliant, humane and just ruler. Moreover, during the later stages of the Franco-Prussian war, when he had driven a Swedish army from Pomerania, he had captured one of their crack cavalry regiments in Lubeck, invited its officers to dinner and given them some very sound advice on the policy that should be pursued in the best interests of their country.

When approached, Napoleon, who had always been jealous of Bernadotte, had been loath to agree to his aggrandizement, and endeavored to fob off the Swedes with one of his lesser Marshals. But they would not have it. They had sent direct to Bernadotte a deputation consisting of their veteran Field Marshal, Count Hans Henrik von Essen, and several of the officers with whom Bernadotte had talked in Lubeck. And he had accepted.

To the Emperor's fury, when summoned by him Bernadotte had arrived in the uniform of a Swedish Field Marshal, and a most acrimonious discussion had followed, Bernadotte had asked to be relieved of his Princedom of Ponte Corvo, his rank as a Marshal of the Empire and above all, his French citizenship. Napoleon could not believe his ears. He had made three of his brothers and his brother-in-law Kings of foreign countries; but they had all remained Frenchmen and subservient to him. He expected Bernadotte, like Murat, to remain a Marshal, govern as he, Napoleon, directed and, whenever called upon, leave his Kingdom to command an army in his was.

But Bernadotte remained adamant. Courageously he insisted that, if he was to be Prince Royal of Sweden, he must become a Swede. At length, Napoleon gave way but demanded that Sweden should become his ally and place her army at his disposal in any future war. To that, too, Bernadotte refused to agree, maintaining that peace or war was a matter to be decided solely by the will of the Swedish people. Angry, bewildered and not knowing what to reply, the Emperor had succumbed and, in September, Bernadotte had left France to become not, like Napoleon's brothers, a puppet King forced upon a hostile people, but a Royal Prince elected by the will of a nation.