If the woman had not spoken with such a strong accent, Marianne might have thought, from her appearance, that she was not unlike her old acquaintance, Mere Tambouille, but clearly this one was a Russian or something not far removed. Marianne wondered if she could also be mad. What was all this about a husband?

She had her answer when the strange creature reappeared, dragging after her Marianne's friend of the day before, still half-asleep and struggling to open his eyes. The woman must have hauled him from his bed.

'See!' she exclaimed triumphantly, pointing to the girl propped on her elbow in the bed. 'What do you say to that? Have I nursed her well or not?'

Beyle finished rubbing his eyes and smiled at her.

'Yes, indeed you have! It's like a miracle. My dear Barbe, I make you my apologies. You certainly are a remarkable woman. I suppose you wouldn't carry your goodness still further and go and make us a hot drink? Coffee, for preference, if you can find any.'

Barbe laughed, shook out her overall and crumpled petticoats flirtatiously, and pushed back the hair that was escaping from the towel and straggling about her face. Then she made for the door.

'I see how it is! You want to make a fuss of her? No need to worry about me, you know. I know all about it.'

She went out, shutting the door firmly behind her and Beyle walked over to the bed.

'Feeling better?'

'As weak as a new-born kitten but certainly better. Tell me, where are we and who is that woman?'

'A kind of fallen angel, incredible as it may seem. I shall always be grateful to Providence for having placed her in our path.'

He told her rapidly all that had happened since she had lapsed into her fever and even managed to make her laugh by describing the manner in which he had made Barbe's acquaintance.

'She asked me if you were my wife and I thought it best not to go into details.'

'You were quite right. It makes things easier. But what are we going to do now?'

He drew the chair in which Barbe had slept up to the bed and sat down.

'The first thing is to have breakfast, just like any respectably married couple. After that we'll put our heads together. This house is not too bad at any rate and I think we may as well stay here for a while. There's not a great deal left standing in Moscow that is not full of troops. You must get well again and, from what I understood you to say, you are anxious to keep out of the way of the Emperor and his suite?'

A faint flush rose to Marianne's cheeks and at the same time she felt a rush of gratitude. This man who was a total stranger to her had behaved with the delicacy and discretion of a true friend.

'That is true. And I think it's time I gave you some explanation—'

'There's no hurry. Please. You are still so weak. And the little I have done for you does not deserve your confidence.'

She smiled at him, in gentle mockery. 'That is not how it seems to me! I owe you the truth – the whole truth. Are you not my husband? It will not take long.'

As clearly as she could, she described in her turn what had taken place in the Kremlin and why it was that she must avoid coming within Napoleon's reach until she knew what the situation was.

'If you have ever met him,' she finished, 'you must know what I mean. He will not forgive me for having assisted in the escape of a man who, to him, was a dangerous spy. What I want to do now is to find my friends as soon as possible, and then leave Moscow as discreetly as I can.'

'And go back to Italy, I suppose?' He sighed comically. 'How I understand you! And how I wish I might really pass as your husband and go with you! I love Italy more than anything. But I don't think you have any need to worry. For one thing, we have no idea what the Emperor will decide to do as a result of this disaster, and for another, you are perfectly safe here. Ah, here is breakfast at last!' The last words were uttered simultaneously with Barbe's appearance bearing a tray the size of a small table. She made her entry as majestically as a Spanish galleon sailing into harbour.

Although her throat was still very sore, Marianne managed to eat a little boiled ham floating in a sea of cabbage, which was the easiest thing in the world to come by in Russia. Cabbage was the national vegetable and vast acres of it were grown all round Moscow. Marianne was not fond of it but she made herself eat some in the belief that it would help her to get back her strength. Then Beyle went out, saying that he was going to take a look round and see how matters stood and Marianne let Barbe change her sheets and her nightshirt, both of which had become unpleasantly sweaty. As Barbe pulled the nightshirt over her head, Marianne's hand went instinctively to the little wash-leather bag she always carried round her neck, in which was the diamond drop, as though to assure herself that it was safe.

The movement did not escape Barbe and she shot a severe look at the girl, then smiled somewhat grimly.

'I lay no claims to virtue,' she said, 'but I think I am honest. Oh, yes, I picked up a few trifles in the fire, but only because it would have been a shame to leave them to burn. I wouldn't touch your relics.'

Marianne understood from this that Barbe, greatly to her credit, had not investigated the contents of the bag, evidently taking it for the kind of thing in which pious souls liked to carry a little consecrated earth or some relic they regarded as a talisman. She blamed herself the more for having unconsciously wounded her feelings.

'Please don't be offended,' she said gently. 'So much has happened in these last three days that I had forgotten all about this. I was simply making sure I had not lost it.'

With peace restored between them, Marianne drifted back into sleep again. Sleep was still the thing she needed most and she dropped off very quickly while Barbe busied herself in putting the house to rights and coming to terms with Beyle's servant.

When the young auditor returned towards the end of the afternoon, he brought a quiverful of news. First and most important was the fact that the Emperor had returned to the Kremlin at about four o'clock, after making a tour of what remained of the city. His mood had darkened as he traversed the devastated streets where houses, palaces and churches were all reduced to black and smoking ruins. But when he came to the parts that had been saved his grim mood changed to anger at the realization that these were still given over to pillage and that the scum of the city had joined with the still more or less drunken soldiery to carry off everything worth having. A rain of stern commands began to issue forth, accompanied by some harsher sentences.

'It was not the moment to go up to his Majesty and start trying to gauge his intentions towards a mutinous princess,' Beyle concluded. 'Besides, I ran into Dumas, of the Quartermaster-General's staff, and he advised me to stay where I was until he sent for me, which will be tomorrow or the next day. It seems we're going to have the devil of a job to sort out what provisions are left in the city and bring in more from outside if necessary.'

But the provisioning of the army, or even of the city, was of scant interest to Marianne. What she wanted to know more than anything else was what had become of Jolival and Gracchus and to rejoin them as soon as possible. For all Beyle's friendly care, she felt lost without them and she felt as if nothing could be done until they were all three together again. They had travelled the world together for so long now that it had become inconceivable to envisage returning to France without them. She said as much quite frankly to her supposed husband and he did his best to soothe her impatience.

'I know what you are feeling. To tell you the truth,' he added in a burst of confidence, 'when I met you in the avenue, I was searching frantically for an old friend of mine, a Frenchwoman married to a Russian, the Baronne de Barcoff. I have long cherished a great regard for her. She seems to have quite disappeared and I shall not be easy in my mind until I have found her. But I know that, short of a miracle, I shall never do so until order has been re-established. You cannot conceive of the confusion in the city, or what is left of it. You must not expect too much all at once.'

'You mean that we are lucky to have escaped with our lives from one of the greatest disasters of all time?'

'More or less, yes. We must be patient, and allow all those who have fled time to return. Only then will we be able to search for our friends with some hope of success.'

Marianne was too much a woman not to ask what seemed to her the natural question.

'This Madame de Barcoff – are you in love with her?'

He smiled a little sadly and brushed one of his small, white, carefully manicured hands across his brow, as though to drive away a cloud.

'I did love her once,' he said at last. 'So much that surely something must remain. In those days she was called Melanie Guilbert and she was – exquisite. She is married now and I love another but, even so, there is still a great bond of affection between us and I am anxious about her. She is so fragile, so helpless—'

He seemed to be very much disturbed all of a sudden and Marianne held out her hands to him impulsively. Two days before, she had not even met him, and yet now the feelings he inspired in her were so warm that they could readily be called friendship.

'You will find her – and you will see again the woman you love. What is her name?'

'Angelina. Angelina Bereyter. She is an actress.'