Gwen paused and began to stroll up and down the arcade outside. Marianne at once retreated as far as the galerie de Beaujolais, but without losing sight of her old enemy whose behaviour was beginning to appear increasingly odd. It was at this point that Fortunée Hamelin at last caught up with her friend.

'Do you mind telling me what happened?' she said. 'You shot out of Corcellat's as if the devil were after you.'

'No one was after me but I wanted to go after someone else. Would you mind if we strolled on a little way, Fortunée? I don't want to be noticed.'

'Well, you'll be out of luck, my dear,' the Creole informed her drily. 'You may have let your veil down but you're not exactly dressed to melt into the crowd, you know. Nor, I flatter myself, am I. But we'll walk on if you like. Are you still watching that girl in the red and grey? Who is she?'

In a few words Marianne told Fortunée what she knew and the Creole readily agreed that this was something worth investigating. She put forward one objection, however.

'You don't think that perhaps the girl is simply endeavouring to earn a living? She is pretty enough and there are girls here who put on airs of respectability.'

'It is possible,' Marianne conceded, 'but I do not think so. If so, what is the meaning of that carriage waiting in the street, and why is she hanging about outside the restaurant? She is waiting for someone and I mean to find out who it is.'

Fortunée sighed. 'Well of course, there are people who would be interested in the activities of such women – our friend Fouché among others. We'll see what happens. It might be interesting.'

Arm in arm, the two of them strolled idly towards the quincunx of lime trees which formed the centrepiece of the garden and back again to the point which they had left, apparently deep in conversation. Their words were lost in the babel from the countless cafés and billiard halls, booksellers and small shops of every kind which made the Palais-Royal a scene of animation for most hours of the day and night. As they walked they kept a close watch on the Breton girl, who was also strolling slowly up and down the arcade between the gardens and the street. Suddenly, Gwen froze and her two watchers followed suit. The restaurant door was opening.

'Something is going to happen, I can feel it,' Fortunée hissed, her clutch on her friend's arm tightening.

A man had come out of the restaurant, a square-built man dressed in a blue coat with gilt buttons, a high-crowned beaver perched at a rakish angle on his head. He paused on the threshold, responded with a friendly wave of his hand to the bowing of the head waiter, and then lit a long cigar. Marianne's heart beat faster as she recognized him.

'Surcouf!' she breathed. 'Baron Surcouf!'

'The pirate?' Madame Hamelin could scarcely contain her excitement. 'That fellow built like a battleship?'

'Yes, and now I know who it was the girl was watching for. Look!'

Gwen had slipped out from the shelter of her pillar and was about to pass the entrance to the Grand Véfour, dragging her feet suddenly, like a woman in the last stages of exhaustion.

'What is she going to do?' Fortunée whispered. 'Is she going to try and accost him?'

Marianne frowned. 'She is up to no good, that's for sure. Morvan hates Surcouf even more than he hates the Emperor. I wonder —' She broke off. 'Come on, quickly.'

She had a sudden fear that the girl might be concealing a weapon underneath her pelisse but no, as she came up with the king of the corsairs, she stopped and seemed to stagger. Then, putting one trembling hand up to her head, she swayed and fell in a little heap upon the ground.

Surcouf, seeing a young woman fainting at his feet, naturally sprang forward to aid her. He had his arms round her to raise her and Marianne, springing forward at the same instant, arrived in time to hear the Bretonne murmur faintly: 'It is nothing – for pity's sake, sir, help me to the carriage… close at hand. I shall be… cared for.'

As she spoke she moved her hand a little, wearily, warding off the other persons who had drawn near. But Marianne knew now what she planned. Surcouf would require no assistance to carry this slip of a girl as far as the carriage where, no doubt, there would be men lying in wait for him. He would be whisked into the vehicle in a trice and neatly carried off. A valuable hostage against the release of the wrecker – supposing the bargain was ever kept. Moreover, Marianne was sure that Fanchon Fleur-de-Lis and her associates had a hand in the affair. She did not hesitate for an instant.

Stepping up to Surcouf, who was already lifting the pretended invalid in his arms, she laid her gloved hand on his sleeve and said crisply: 'Do not touch the woman, Baron, she is no more faint than you or I. Above all, do not go near that carriage.'

Surcouf looked in astonishment at the veiled woman who had made this remarkable statement, laying Gwen down again as he did so. The girl gave an angry exclamation. 'Who are you, madame?' Surcouf asked.

Marianne swiftly pushed back her veil. 'Someone who stands greatly in your debt and who is glad to have been by in time to prevent your kidnapping.'

The sight of her face called forth two exclamations, one glad, the other furious.

'Mademoiselle Marianne!' cried the pirate.

'You!' spat the Bretonne. 'Must you always interfere?'

'Such is not my intention,' Marianne said coldly. 'If you behaved yourself like anyone else it would not be necessary.'

'Well, you were wrong! Anyone can be taken ill —'

'And be well again just as quickly! My appearance has cured you fast enough.'

A crowd was already beginning to gather, attracted by the sound of the two women's angry voices. Seeing that she had failed in her mission, the Bretonne shrugged and would have slipped away but Surcouf's large, brown hand was laid heavily on her shoulder, preventing her.

'Not so fast, my pretty. You don't run away from this quarrel. You have been accused, now defend yourself.'

'I have nothing to explain.'

'I think you have.' Fortunée's lilting tones came to them as she made her way through the crowd with two men at her heels. 'These gentlemen are most anxious to hear what you have to say.'

Black coats buttoned to the chin, battered felt hats, stout shoes and truncheons, all proclaimed that the new arrivals were policemen. The crowd parted and drew back to make way for them and the two men ranged themselves with practised ease on each side of Gwen, who began to struggle like fury.

'I have done nothing! Let me go! What right have you to arrest me?'

'We are arresting you for the attempted kidnapping of the Baron Surcouf. Come along now, young woman, you can explain yourself to the judge.'

'You have no right to accuse me without proof! This is not justice —'

'In the absence of proof we're holding your two accomplices: the men in the black chaise. This lady,' the policeman indicated Madame Hamelin, 'warned us in time. Two of our colleagues are dealing with them now, so come along quietly.'

Strong hands dragged the Breton girl away, kicking and screaming like a mad thing. Once, before she was out of sight, she turned and spat at Marianne.

'We'll meet again and I shall pay you out for this, you little bitch!'

When the policemen had gone the crowd surged back again, surrounding Surcouf with a buzz of admiration. Everyone wanted to shake the famous sailor by the hand. He endeavoured to extricate himself with an unfeigned shyness, shook a few hands and finally succeeded in leading Marianne to the terrace of the Café de la Rotonde which jutted out into the gardens.

'Come and eat an ice with me and let us renew our acquaintance. After so much excitement, you must be in need of refreshment, and your friend also.'

When they were seated under the circular glass dome and Surcouf had given the order, his twinkling blue eyes moved from Marianne to Fortunée, who was displaying all her exotic plumage for his benefit, but returned always to Marianne.

'I was wondering, you know, what had become of you. I wrote to you several times, through Fouché, but I had no answer.'

'I did not remain with the Duke of Otranto,' Marianne said, attacking a vanilla sorbet with gusto, 'but he might have put himself to the trouble of forwarding your letters.'

'That is rather what I think. I was going to call on him before I go back to Brittany.'

'What? Do you go so soon?'

'I must. I came only on business and now that I have seen you all is well. I can leave with a quiet mind. Do you know, you are looking magnificent?'

His admiring gaze took in the fashionable toilette, lingering on the gold and jewels adorning her wrists, and Marianne felt herself grow hot with embarrassment. How could she tell him what had happened to her? Her liaison with the Emperor was so fantastic, so wholly unexpected that it must be hard for a man as simple and direct as the corsair to understand it. It was Fortunée who guessed her friend's dilemma and hastened to explain.

'But my dear Baron, you are looking at the queen of Paris.'

'What's this? Not that I would deny your right to have a kingdom at your feet, but —'

'You wonder how it came about so quickly? Marianne, let me tell you, is no more. Allow me to present to you the Signorina Maria Stella.'

'You? But all Paris is talking of nothing but your beauty and your talent. Then you are the Emperor's —' He broke off and the great, leonine face flushed suddenly under its tan. An identical flush mounted Marianne's cheeks. He was embarrassed by what he had nearly said, she by his abrupt and obvious silence. She knew that, short as his stay in Paris had been, Surcouf was familiar with the current gossip and was now well aware that he was talking to Napoleon's mistress, and it seemed to her that he did not relish the thought. His blue eyes, so oddly reminiscent of Jason Beaufort's, had darkened. There was a short, pregnant pause. Even Fortunée seemed unwilling to break into it with her inconsequential chatter but had turned her attention instead to the consumption of her chocolate ice. In the end, it was Marianne who was the first to speak.

'You disapprove of me, don't you?'

'No… I am only afraid for your happiness — if you love him. And there can be no doubt of that, I think.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Because there are some things a woman like you will not do without love. I can only add that he is a lucky man. I hope he realizes it.'

'I am luckier. But why do you think I may not be happy?'

'Because you are who you are, and because you love him. His marriage must have been painful for you.'

Marianne bowed her head. With the simple percipience of men who spend their lives dealing with nature as well as with men, the sailor had read her feelings like a book.

'Yes.' She managed a small, taut smile. 'It is painful but I would not have it otherwise. I have learned to my cost that everything in this world must be paid for and I am ready to pay the price of my happiness, however heavy.'

He rose and, bowing slightly, raised her hand to his lips. The hardness of his face frightened her suddenly.

'Are you going? Does this mean that – that you are no longer my friend?'

His rare smile swept for a brief instant across his face but there was a world of warmth in the blue eyes bleached by so many storms, so many nights spent gazing into the wind from a heaving deck.

'Your friend? I shall be that to my last breath, to the ending of the world. It is just that I am obliged to go. Here is my brother coming with two of our captains whom I had arranged to meet here in the gardens.'

Marianne clung a little to the roughened fingers that clasped hers. 'I shall see you again?'

'If it lies in my power. But where may I find you?'

'At the Hôtel d'Asselnat in the rue de Lille. You will always be welcome there.'

Once again he pressed his lips lightly to the small hand imprisoned in his own and smiled but this time with a boyish twinkle in his eye.

'Do not be too pressing in your invitation or you might never be rid of me. You can't think how persistent we nautical fellows can be.'

He moved away to join the three men and Fortunée Hamelin heaved a great sigh.

'He scarcely so much as glanced at me,' she said with a disappointed pout. 'Indeed, my love, when you are by none of us stand a chance. Yet I wish he might have noticed me a little. He is a man after my own heart.'