Armand smiled. “From what you tell me, it seems that Percy is at odds with his ideals. He loves you, yet he hates what you have done, what he thinks you believe. Such a state of affairs might well affect a man so deeply that he would seem a stranger, not only to you, but to himself, as well.”
“Perhaps that is what it is,” said Marguerite. “Still, I cannot help but think that-”
“I’m certain that is all it is,” Armand said, taking his sister’s hand. “These are trying times for all of us, Marguerite. We shall simply have to persevere.”
She smiled halfheartedly. “Look at me,” she said, “crying on your shoulder when you have troubles ever so much greater than my own.”
“They, too, shall pass,” Armand said, patting her hand.
“Must you leave so soon?” she said. “I’ve missed you so!”
Armand nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid I must. I sail in the morning. Captain Briggs has been good enough to promise to take me back across. I should not have come, but I missed you, too. Still, there is much needing to be done in Paris.”
“Then I shall come to visit you in Paris soon!”
“That would not be wise,” Armand said. “Things are unstable in the government right now. I would feel far happier knowing you were safe in England, where a threat to you could not be used against me.”
“Is it as bad as that?” she said, her face grave with concern.
“Yes, and I fear it will grow worse before it’s over,” Armand said. “You mark my words, those doing the chopping now may one day soon find their own necks on the block.”
“Then don’t go back, Armand,” said Marguerite. “Why place yourself in danger needlessly?”
“Because it is not needless, my dear. I said that there must be a voice for reason and there is precious little reason in France these days. If those who feel as I do were to abdicate their responsibility, there would be no reason at all.”
It was late when Marguerite returned to the Fisherman’s Rest. Finn had left the coach with her, but because the inn was not far away, she had sent the coachman back to eat his supper earlier, saying she preferred to walk in the cool night air. As she was about to pass through the door of the inn, she heard a soft voice behind her say, “I always find a walk before bedtime relaxing, too, Citoyenne St. Just.”
Startled, she quickly turned around to see a little, foxlike man dressed all in black approaching her. He was about forty years old and slender. He held a tiny pewter snuffbox in his left hand and beneath his wide-brimmed black hat his sharp features were set in a look of friendly affection.
“Chauvelin?” sai
d Marguerite.
“It’s so nice to be remembered, Citoyenne St. Just,” he said, with a slight bow.
“Not Citoyenne St. Just, but Lady Blakeney now,” said Marguerite.
“Ah, yes, of course. I stand corrected. How fares the leading light of the Comedie Francaise?”
“The former leading light of the Comedie Francais is frightfully bored these days, my dear Chauvelin. And what brings you to England?”
“Matters of state,” said Chauvelin, taking a pinch of snuff. “I am to present my credentials to Mr. Pitt in London tomorrow as the official representative of the Republican government to England.”
“You may find your reception a trifle cool, my dear Chauvelin,” said Marguerite. “The English are not very sympathetic to the government in France these days.”
Chauvelin smiled. “I am quite aware of that,” he said. “If anything, you understate the case. Still, I must do my duty. Besides, I also have other responsibilities. You mentioned that you were bored, Citoyenne. I may have just the remedy for that. It is called work.”
Marguerite raised her eyebrows. “Work? Are you saying that you would employ me, Chauvelin?”
The Frenchman shrugged. “In a manner of speaking, perhaps. Tell me, have you ever heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel?”
“Heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel?” said Marguerite, with a chuckle. “My dear Chauvelin, all of England has heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel! We talk of nothing else. We have hats a la Scarlet Pimpernel; our horses are called Scarlet Pimpernel; at the Prince of Wales’s party the other night, we had a souffle a la Scarlet Pimpernel.”
“Yes, well, he has become rather well known in France, as well,” said Chauvelin. “In fact, as I have said, I have several responsibilities on my mission here. One of my duties is to learn about this League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Aristocratic French emigres have been arousing feeling abroad against the Republic. I need to find this Scarlet Pimpernel and bring to an end his criminal activities. I am certain that he is a young buck in English society. I would like you to help me find him.”
“Me?” said Marguerite. “Why, what could I do?”
“You could watch, Citoyenne, and you could listen. You move in the same circles as he does.”