'I nearly forgot. You may inform the encroaching creature at present kicking her heels in the yellow salon that her beloved Fournier has been back for the past month with his regiment in Spain. It may lessen her temptation to spend the winter at Anvers! And finally – as regards Count Chernychev, when he returns to France I shall let him know my opinion of him. You have my word on that… I have never permitted anyone to hurt those I love. I do not mean to start with you.'

'Sire,' Marianne stammered, moved almost to tears at this last, utterly unlooked-for proof of affection. 'What can I say—'

'Nothing. Your servant, Princess.'

This time, it was over. The closed door stood between Napoleon and the Princess Sant'Anna, but Marianne carried away with her a great sense of comfort, born, initially, of the knowledge that Jason's life was safe, and also of the assurance that she had been restored not perhaps to the Emperor's love, which she would have found something of an embarrassment as things stood, but to his friendship at least. Once again, she was free to act according to her own will, and she meant to make the most of her freedom.

'Well?' Fortunée Hamelin demanded anxiously when Marianne rejoined her in the little drawing-room where she had been left to kick her heels.

'Jason is already reprieved! The Emperor knows that he is innocent of Black Fish's death, but there is still the affair of the counterfeit money. He – he goes to prison.'

Fortunée frowned, thought for a moment and then shrugged:

'A terrible ordeal, but not one to get the better of a man of his stamina. Do you know where he will be sent, and for how long?'

No, Marianne did not know. In her confusion, she had not even thought to ask these two very fundamental questions. The second, indeed, was of minor importance. It mattered not to her whether Jason were sentenced to ten, twenty or thirty years, even to life, since she was determined to do everything she could to bring about his escape. So she only said: 'Let's go. We can talk more freely at your house… I have so much to tell you.'

She took her friend's arm and they followed the footman, who had appeared suddenly as guide, out into the Fountain Court where their horses were waiting.

As they rode back to La Madeleine together, side by side in the gathering dusk, Marianne's mind was already busy with the days ahead. The first thing was to get back to Paris as fast as possible. She was eager now to be at home again, now that she knew that Adelaide and Jolival were waiting for her there. All her trust was in Jolival and in him alone, in his ingenuity and profound knowledge of people of the world, to devise a plan of escape for Jason. Ever since she had been sure that Jason was not to die, she had been looking at things through a rose-coloured haze. Thinking that she was being rather too optimistic, Fortunée set herself to keep her within bounds. Marianne seemed to think that everything would be easy from now on, and that was a dangerous attitude.

'You must not think escape will be a simple matter, Marianne,' she said gently. 'Men sentenced as he is are kept under strong guard. It will need long and careful preparation if the plan is to have the greatest possible chance of success.'

'That man I saw in La Force, François Vidocq, has escaped I don't know how many times. It can't be so very difficult.'

'He escaped, certainly, but he has been recaptured each time, hasn't he? Beaufort's only chance, if you should manage to get him away from his guards, is to embark instantly for his own country. The law officers will have little chance at sea. You must have everything ready, beginning with a boat…'

'We can arrange such details as that at the last minute. I am sure anything Vidocq has done, Jason can do too.'

'Marianne! Marianne!' Fortunée sighed. 'You are talking just like a child. I grant that his life is what matters most but take care, remember that the least slip could prove fatal. Vidocq is familiar with the insides of prisons, he knows what he is doing – Jason's situation will be very different. Take care you do nothing foolish.'

Too happy to be cast down by any such dismal forebodings, Marianne simply shrugged lightly, convinced that a rosy future lay before her and Jason. She was now picturing the penal settlement as a kind of seaside prison where the convicts worked all day outside in the fresh air and where, with the aid of a little money, it would always be possible to obtain special favours from the guards. She had ceased to be greatly concerned even about money. Her far-off husband might cut off supplies but she still had fabulous jewels which she would part from without a pang to win the freedom of the man she loved.

However, the following evening when, after the first joyful greetings were over, she heard Arcadius saying very much the same things, she did begin to feel the faintest suspicion of uneasiness. Arcadius was truly glad to know that Jason was no longer in danger but he did not conceal from Marianne that a sentence of hard labour in a penal colony was very nearly as serious and meant little more than a death sentence somewhat delayed.

'It is hell, Marianne,' he said gravely, 'and the way there a hideous ordeal. Death can strike in a hundred different ways: exhaustion, disease, the ill-will of the other prisoners, punishments, dangerous employment. There is very little mercy in commuting a sentence of death into one of imprisonment and if we mean to attempt an escape we shall have to proceed with infinite caution, and the greatest patience. A prisoner of his kidney will be under stricter guard even than the rest, and failure on our part could lead to his death. You must let me take charge of everything.'

Marianne had noted with amazement how these last weeks had aged Jolival. His usually cheerful face was sunken and silver threads were beginning to show among the black around his temples. He had returned from his journey to Aix with a disappointed heart and a more bitter knowledge of men for, against all his hopes, the Duke of Otranto had refused, stubbornly and categorically, to have anything to do with the Beaufort affair. He had said in coarse but unequivocal terms that it was no longer any concern of his and the Emperor's staff must get along as best they might with his successor. He had even delivered himself of sentiments referring to Marianne which Jolival was careful to keep to himself.

'Princess or no, that woman has a face and a body no man could tire of easily,' he had said. 'While she can make Napoleon want her, she'll get whatever she wants out of him, even now he's shackled himself to a wife. I'll do myself no good by getting mixed up in the business…'

And Arcadius had returned to Paris, stricken and grieving, to find Marianne had disappeared. Day after day, with Talleyrand and Eleonora Crawfurd, he had searched every avenue for news of what had become of her and her aged companion. Their inquiries had led them as far as La Force but there they stopped. The people at the prison had seen the supposed Norman and his daughter walk away comfortably arm-in-arm down the rue des Ballets and turn the corner – after which they had vanished as completely as if they had melted into thin air. All that had been found was the body of the cab driver, floating in the Seine with his throat cut.

'We thought you were dead,' Adelaide said, the traces of her grief still visible in her reddened eyes. 'It seemed impossible that you had not been dealt with in the same way. We were afraid – oh, so afraid! Until the day, last Tuesday it was, when Mr Crawfurd came back at last and told us you had been carried off by a woman and a whole lot of Spaniards, all wearing masks. He knew they did not mean to kill you – or not straight away at least – because he heard them say so. They were waiting for the outcome of the trial.'

'After the sentence was delivered we were nearly mad,' Jolival went on. 'I went to Mortefontaine, thinking Pilar might have had the audacity to take you there, and searched, but I found nothing. In fact, of course, you were already gone because all this happened this week.'

Shocked to read on their faces the agonies they had endured on her account, Marianne blamed herself bitterly for having to some extent neglected them. When she reached Paris after her escape she could have, indeed she ought to have, sent word to Adelaide at least, but when she heard that Jason had been condemned it had driven every thought out of her head except the one idea of how to snatch him from death. The rest of the world had simply ceased to exist for her.

There was such sweetness and real affection in her attempts to explain all this, that neither Adelaide nor Jolival would allow her to continue. Arcadius summed up their feelings in a few words:

'You are here, in one piece, and we are sure that Beaufort's head is safe. And that is that. After that, any complaints would be base ingratitude! We are going to drink to your return, Marianne!' Smiling, he rang the bell for Jeremy to bring them some champagne.

'Do you think we can start celebrating today?' Marianne said, with some asperity. 'When you told me yourself that Jason's life is still not wholly out of danger?'

'Not celebrate, no, merely enjoy a little respite before plunging back head-first into the fray. I may as well tell you at once. Another letter has arrived from Lucca. Your husband demands your instant return and threatens to complain to the Emperor and appeal to him as a vassal to his suzerain to have you sent back to Lucca.'

Marianne felt the colour drain from her face. She had not been expecting such a brutal set-down and Eleonora Crawfurd's stories came back to her mind, giving to this ultimatum an oddly menacing note. Clearly, the prince took her for an adventuress and meant to make her pay for having taken him in, pay with her blood, perhaps.