The count smiled. "I am a royalist, not a fool, General Roussaye. The emperor was the colossus of our age, and only a fool would attempt to deny that."

His words produced a noticeable thawing in the general's expression.

Varenne continued, "Like you, I am here to say good-bye to some of my favorite paintings."

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a commotion sounded farther down the gallery. Amid French shouts, the stamp of marching feet heralded the entrance of a company of soldiers. Maggie recognized the uniforms as Prussian. As museumgoers watched in disbelief, the soldiers started unhooking paintings from the wall.

General Roussaye swiftly crossed to the Prussians and demanded furiously, "By what authority do you do this?"

The Prussian commander turned, and Maggie recognized Colonel von Fehrenbach. Expression coldly satisfied, the colonel said, "By the authority of ownership. Since the negotiators are no closer to a just settlement now than they were in July, Prussia takes what is hers."

Intent on observing every word and nuance of the confrontation, Maggie started to follow Roussaye across the gallery. Rafe stopped her in her tracks by clamping his hand around her wrist.

"Keep out of it," he said in a voice that allowed no argument.

Maggie considered defying him on general principles, but common sense made her concede the point and stay at his side.

Count de Varenne had gone to stand by his countryman. Though his tone was less fierce, he sounded equally hostile when he said, "The Congress of Vienna allowed France to keep her treasures, and it is by no means certain that that decision will be reversed. What you are doing is theft."

The tall Prussian was unmoved, "Say what you will,I am here by my king's orders. We have both might and right on our side, and will brook no interference."

The soldiers began packing paintings in wooden cases that they had brought. A crowd of sullen-faced French citizens had gathered around the disputing men. Briefly Maggie wondered if they might rush the soldiers, but the moment passed and the bystanders remained passive.

Varenne's sibilant voice said, "Do not be so righteous, Colonel. Many of the artworks that the Allies are so virtuously reclaiming were stolen in the first place. The bronze horses of St. Mark's, for example, which the Venetians plundered from Constantinople."

Von Fehrenbach looked cynically amused. "I don't deny it, but the nature of loot defies easy moralizing."

Roussaye said tightly, "All nations may be looters, but only France has made such beauty available to all. Even the poorest of the poor can come here to glory in the sight."

"Quite right, the French are the most efficient thieves in history," the colonel agreed. "You studied guidebooks and sent artists to ensure that you missed none of the best pieces. The emperor even made the Vatican pay the cost of shipping his spoils to Paris. But don't forget what Wellington himself said-loot is what you can get your bloody hands on and keep."

Von Fehrenbach turned back to his men, but said over his shoulder, "And France bloody well can't keep these."

It was fortunate that the colonel had brought such a sizable troop of soldiers, because his words caused a rumble of impotent rage to rise from the watchers.

After a frozen moment, General Roussaye spun on his heel and returned to his companions. "I think it best that we leave now." He took his wife's arm, leading her down the gallery away from the soldiers as Maggie, Rafe, and Varenne silently followed.

Word of the assault on the Louvre had spread quickly, and outside a crowd was gathering in the Place du Carrousel. Under the shadow of the great victory arch that carried the bronze horses of St. Mark's, Maggie and her companions were privileged to see the Venus de Medici being carried out feet first, followed by the Apollo Belvedere.

Nearby, a young man in a paint-smudged smock gave a howl of anguish. "Oh, if only Wellington had ordered the removal to take place at night, so we should be spared the horror of seeing them torn away from us!"

Though the artist's anguish was vivid, Maggie could not help thinking tartly that the Venetians and Prussians and other victims of Napoleon's greed had felt equal pain.

Behind her, Rafe said softly, "Wellington is being blamed for this, more's the pity. His popularity with the French will vanish quickly."

Roussaye turned to face them, his wife clinging to his arm with distress in her huge black eyes. "I fear that I will not be good company for some time," the general said with admirable composure. "Pray forgive us for taking our leave now."

Ever urbane, Rafe said, "Of course, General Roussaye, Cousin Filomena. Perhaps we can meet again for a less controversial engagement."

The general smiled humorlessly. "Nothing in France is without controversy."

Varenne spoke up for the first time since they had left the Prussians. "All France shares your outrage, General."

As she saw the two dangerous, capable Frenchmen share a sympathetic glance, Maggie had the disquieting thought that France would again be the most dangerous country in Europe if the royalists and Bonapartists ever united. Thank God that there was too much hatred between the factions for that to happen any time soon.

After the Roussayes departed, Varenne said to Maggie and Rafe, "I'm sorry you were subjected to such a scene. I had heard rumors that the Prussians were growing restive over the pace of the negotiations, but no one expected them to move so quickly."

"I'm afraid that matters will be worse before they get better," Rafe said. "The art controversy is becoming a symbol of all the conflicts of the peace conference."

"The situation is very volatile," Varenne agreed. "As I'm sure you know, the king's government is in disarray, and I fear that Richelieu is not strong enough to maintain order." Putting aside his dark mood, he smiled at Maggie. "I should not talk of such things before a lady."

Maggie supposed he meant that she was too much of a lackwit to understand politics. Still, the less intelligent he thought her, the better. Fluttering her eyelashes, she cooed, "It's all so dreadful. Since the wars are over, one would think there would be no more problems."

"I'm afraid matters aren't quite so simple," Varenne said, a satiric glint in his dark eyes. "I look forward to the day when I can retire to my estate and concentrate on my own affairs, but it will not be soon."

"Is your estate near Paris?" Maggie asked, though she knew the answer from her research.

"Yes, not far from the emperor's house at Malmaison. Chantueil is perhaps the finest medieval chateau in France."

"It sounds wonderfully romantic."

"It is." Varenne gave her a smile that would have been charming were it not for the calculation in his eyes. "I would be delighted to show it to you. Perhaps next week?"

Maggie's answer was forestalled when Rafe put his arm around her waist. "Perhaps later. The countess and I are much engaged for the near future."

Seeming amused by Rafe's show of possessiveness, Varenne took Maggie's hand and sketched a kiss above it. "You and the enchanting countess would be welcome at Chantueil at any time, Monsieur le Duc."

Then he disappeared into the seething mass of angry Parisians. Maggie watched his broad back retreat with disquiet. The count had behaved flirtatiously, yet she sensed that he wasn't really interested in her.

Before she could analyze her unease, Rafe said brusquely, 'Time to leave, Countess. This crowd could turn ugly."

His words made her aware of the angry mutterings, and she felt the clenching fear that crowds always produced in her. As people fell away from Rafe, she was grateful for his presence. Anyone would think twice or thrice before accosting the Duke of Candover, not only because of his obvious wealth, but because of his air of gentlemanly menace.

When they were free of the crowd, Rafe summoned a cab to take them to the Boulevard des Capucines. In the privacy of the cab, he remarked, "It was interesting to see all three suspects together, but I can't say that I have any better idea of who is guilty of what. Do you have any thoughts on the subject?"

She frowned as she reviewed her impressions of the confrontation in the museum. "The same thoughts I had before, only more so. Colonel von Fehrenbach despises the French and enjoys their humiliation. While I still don't see him masterminding a plot, it's possible that he could be used by someone of more devious temperament."

"And General Roussaye?"

"He behaved with unusual restraint," she said slowly. "He was so furious with the invasion of the Louvre that I wouldn't have been surprised if he had rallied the French mob to attack the Prussians."

"Surely he wouldn't have risked that with his wife there."

"I'm sure that was a factor," she agreed. "Also, he's an intelligent man and must realize that driving the Prussians out would do no real good. But he is a warrior, and I had the feeling that it was very difficult for him not to fight back. Remember that I suspected that he might be involved in something secret? Perhaps he left rather than act in a way that might jeopardize another project. I would go long odds that some parts of his life wouldn't bear the light of day."

"What about Varenne and his so-romantic chateau?" Rafe inquired, a sardonic note in his voice.

She smiled a little. "I wouldn't trust that man further than I could throw his drawbridge. I suspect that he is so devious by nature that it would be impossible to determine if he is conspiring, or merely obfuscating on general principles."