Pulling off his magnificent, if ridiculous hat, Murat swept them a low bow and, handling his horse with consummate skill, set off at a gallop along the Moskva, followed by several troops of horse and Vania's eyes, which were shining like twin stars.

'Tomorrow,' she sighed. 'How long it seems! What shall we do until then? I don't suppose you want to go back to St Louis-des-Français?'

'By no means! I mean to try to find my friends. Would you mind if we went over to the governor's palace? It was there we became separated, two days since.'

As they strolled slowly, arm in arm, in the direction of Rostopchin's mansion, the two women were able to watch Napoleon's troops gradually taking possession of Red Square. Not a moment was wasted as the artillery and the foot batteries moved in and established a park. A few shots were fired from the Kremlin ramparts, whereupon guns were trained on the massive Saviour's Gate while a group of officers, accompanied by a platoon of Polish lancers shouting orders in Russian, set about effecting an entry.

'They'll not have much trouble,' Vania remarked. "There's only a rabble inside. They won't make it a regular siege. They couldn't.'

Temporarily losing interest in the matter, she drew her companion off in the direction of the governor's palace, where a few people had gathered to watch the entry of the invaders. A smartly-dressed female, accompanied by a number of much younger ladies attired in a much simpler style, detached herself from them and began hurrying towards a group of horsemen, seen by their plumes to be senior officers of some kind, who were dismounting before the doors of St Basil's cathedral.

'Come, Mesdemoiselles!' she called. 'Do not be afraid. These are our own people. They will surely be able to restore my poor husband whom these savages have taken away!'

'It seems to me that the Russians took more hostages than we thought,' Vania remarked. 'That is Madame Aubert, the celebrated French dressmaker. She has been too careless recently and made no effort to conceal her joy at the news of the war. Rostopchin must have paid her by taking her husband.'

But Marianne was no longer listening. Among the people outside the palace, she had just caught sight of Craig O'Flaherty. He was strolling slowly up and down, with head bent, hands clasped behind his back and a dejected expression, like a man waiting for something but who had almost given up hope.

Uttering a joyful cry, Marianne literally threw herself into his arms, quite forgetting her wound. She was reminded of it brutally enough and her cry of joy ended in a squeak of anguish which O'Flaherty scarcely seemed to notice.

'Here you are at last!' he cried, lifting her at arms' length as if she had been a doll. 'By St Patrick, I was beginning to think that you were gone for good. Where's Beaufort?'

Marianne gave him a rapid account of her adventures since they had last seen one another and presented Vania, who seemed to make a considerable impression on the Irishman. Then, without pausing for breath, she went on: 'Now you know as much as I do. I hope to get news of Jason very soon. But do you know anything of Gracchus and Jolival?'

'Gracchus is scouring the town for you. As to Jolival, he's in there.' He jerked his thumb in the direction of the Rostopchin house behind him. 'After the mob had passed the other day, some of those young fellows practising their swordplay here recognized him for a Frenchman and gave chase. In running from them he had the ill-luck to fall and break his leg.'

'Is he – oh, my God! They did not kill him?'

'No. I managed to disarm one of them and get his weapon and so brought our friend off safe enough. Sure, he was a trifle under the weather but the luck was ours in that we fell in with a medical man, another Frenchman and the governor's personal physician, which gave him the more reason for making himself scarce, for fear of what might be coming to him from that quarter. He saw Jolival fall and by the mercy of God his Hippocratic oath proved stronger than his fears. He came to our assistance and we carried the poor fellow into the palace stables where he had been hiding. The horses had all gone by that time. Then, when Rostopchin and his people departed some hours later, we were able to move quietly into the house itself.' He laughed. 'At this very moment our dear Vicomte is probably lolling in the governor's own bed. Come in and see him. The sight of you will be the best medicine he can possibly have.'

They found Arcadius ensconced like a king in a vast wing armchair full of cushions, set in the window of a large, luxuriously appointed bedchamber, with his splinted leg propped up before him on a stool, supported by a pillow. There was gilding everywhere but the fact that the decorations consisted almost exclusively of battle scenes and military trophies, together with a complete absence of carpets, combined to make the place about as cosy as a throne room.

Clearly, it had been getting the Vicomte down. That much was evident from the way he welcomed them, hailing Marianne's arrival with cries of joy and treating Vania to an almost princely courtesy. As a result of his instructions and the more practical endeavours of Dr Davrigny, now left sole master of the house, the two women found themselves in possession of a fine apartment adjoining his which had formerly belonged to the Countess Rostopchin.

After that Vania departed with Davrigny in search of news, tactfully announcing that she wished to try and locate her companions from the theatre, and Marianne was left alone with Craig and Jolival.

Seated on either side of the Vicomte's chair, they held a council of war. The time for secrecy was past and in any case the Irishman had given sufficient proof of his friendship and loyalty to be trusted with anything that concerned his friends.

Marianne described in detail all that had befallen her and Jason and went on to tell of the night she had spent in the Abbé Surugue's house and her strange encounter there.

'I still cannot understand this danger which is supposed to threaten us and which made the cardinal insist on my promising to leave Moscow before tomorrow night,' she finished with a sigh. 'On the contrary, it seems to me that once the Emperor is here we should have nothing more to fear.'

It was clear, however, that Jolival did not share her optimism.

Indeed, the more Marianne said, the deeper grew the frown between his brows.

'The cardinal is better informed than any man of my acquaintance,' he said darkly. 'And with good reason. If he tells you to go, then go you should. Moreover, Dr Davrigny has heard some strange rumours also, although it's fair to say that he paid scant attention to them, knowing the Russian love of high drama. But added to what you have just told us…"

'What are these rumours?'

'They say that the chief men of the city, including, of course, the governor, have determined, in their patriotic fervour, to sacrifice Moscow for the sake of the Empire.'

'Sacrifice Moscow?'

'Yes. In the biblical meaning of the word. Moscow is to be the pyre on which Napoleon's army will be offered up as a holocaust to the Tsar's injured pride. People are saying that for several weeks past a kind of arsenal has been set up on Prince Repnin's estate at Vorontsovo, some six versts from Moscow, where they are manufacturing rockets and bombs and such to be placed in an enormous balloon, like that of the Montgolfier brothers, which is to be exploded over the city.'

'But that is madness!' Marianne exclaimed impatiently. 'Only a few days ago, the Russians believed they had won the battle at Borodino, and even yesterday, when they knew they were beaten, they were still insisting that Kutuzov was falling back on the city to defend it.'

'I know. That is why Davrigny paid no heed to the rumours – nor I, either. But a warning from the cardinal is something we must take seriously. It would be best if you were to go tonight, my dear.'

'Absolutely not. Your leg changes everything. You cannot be moved, so I will stay with you and, if there should be any danger – well, we will face it together. Besides, you are forgetting the Emperor. I understand that he is to make his entry into the city tomorrow and at all costs I must speak to him.'

'Can't you trust that confounded letter to O'Flaherty? He can hand it over just as well as yourself.'

'Sure,' put in the Irishman. 'It's entirely at your service I am.'

But Marianne would not hear of it.

"Thank you, Craig, but I cannot accept your offer. You would never get near Napoleon, whereas I can go straight to him, and if there really is some grave danger threatening the city tomorrow night, then I must warn him. That is a much more serious trap than the one I came to tell him about, because if the Russians truly mean to burn Moscow it may be that neither Napoleon nor his troops will ever see France again.'

Jolival was not the man to admit defeat without a struggle, especially where Marianne's safety was concerned. He was getting ready to defend his viewpoint energetically when O'Flaherty put an end to the argument by remarking that since there were still twenty-four hours to elapse before the danger, if danger there was, was due to make itself felt, Marianne had plenty of time to see the Emperor and then set out with her friends for Count Sheremetiev's country house.

'I'll drum up some sort of a carriage for you to travel in, Vicomte,' he asserted with his usual optimism, 'and if there are no more horses to be had in Moscow, then Gracchus and I will pull you ourselves! Now, suppose we all settle down to a pleasant evening listening to the gentle music of the King of Naples' trumpeters. After that, a good night's sleep will do us all the good in the world.'