Margont noted that for the prince Paris was synonymous with the whole of France, that is to say, a hundred and thirty départements, including Amsterdam, Brussels and Rome.
‘I know Your Highness is having an affair with an actress.’
Eugène seemed about to fly into a rage.
‘Not an actress, an opera dancer! And an affair, an affair! One does not say to a prince that he’s having an affair or has a mistress. One says he greatly admires such and such a young lady. So, as you know, I greatly admire an opera dancer. Getting to know her has brought me into contact with other people from the world of entertainment. This friend of mine was very close to a person of real talent, Élisa Lasquenet. It was this young lady who performed for us that evening before being murdered. No one could fail to find her utterly charming. She was only nineteen and yet she already acted divinely well. I never tired of going to applaud her in her all too rare appearances. Oh, if she had lived, I swear to you that she would soon have had Paris at her feet.’
Margont said to himself that in addition to his opera dancer, the prince must also have ‘greatly admired’ this Élisa Lasquenet.
‘This woman had a wonderful talent, Captain, wonderful. What a waste. And all because the countess wanted to please me! After finding out well in advance – doubtless via her husband – that IV Corps would be passing quite close to her castle, she did some research into my tastes. She then offered this troupe of actors a princely sum to get them to come to Poland, thinking that I would be easier to influence than the Emperor. As in billiards, she wanted to hit the Emperor indirectly and I was the cushion. There’s calculation and determination for you! Heaven forbid that I should ever make an enemy of a woman like that!’
The prince paused. When he resumed, he spoke more quickly.
‘The performance lasted a good hour and a half, then the actors mingled with the guests. Élisa was stabbed a moment later, in one of the castle bedrooms that she was using as a dressing room. She had gone there to remove her stage costume.’
The account had speeded up considerably. Detailing the festivities, yes; detailing the murder was altogether another matter.
‘The countess noticed that the young actress whom she had engaged at great expense was slow to return. She sent her housekeeper “to ensure that Mademoiselle Lasquenet had everything she needed”. The servant came back saying that there was no answer to her calls. She had not dared to open the door. The countess went to the room herself and discovered the body. What self-control! She did not scream but ordered the master of ceremonies to keep guard at the door and came to inform me of the tragedy. At most she looked a little pale. She begged me not to let news of this incident get out, in order to preserve her reputation. I agreed with some relief, as I already had enough problems with the campaign without having my officers being suspicious of one another. The countess continued to supervise the party, though she did bring it to an end early. When people asked for Mademoiselle Lasquenet she said that she was unwell and resting. None of the guests were aware of anything at all!’
It’s she rather than her husband who deserves to be the possible replacement for General Poniatowski in command of V Corps, thought Margont.
‘She had paid the actors to speak their lines but she paid them double for keeping quiet. For my part, I informed the Polish authorities, demanding of them the utmost discretion. Fortunately, the culprit was arrested the following day.’
‘Really?’ said Margont in surprise.
‘He admitted to the crime. He’s an unstable Polish layabout, a lunatic who has already been put away several times. He passed himself off as a servant and melted into the crowd of domestics, which enabled him to have access to Mademoiselle Lasquenet.’
That’s why he kept on so much about the servants: he wanted to convince not just me but himself as well, thought Margont.
‘Why did he murder this actress, Your Highness?’
Prince Eugène seemed taken by surprise. ‘Why? How can you tell what’s going on inside the head of a madman?’
Obviously. It was so simple. This disturbed individual might well be the culprit. But he could just as easily be the ideal scapegoat for investigators eager to please the prince.
‘I am listening, Your Highness.’
‘But my account is at an end. Your task and this crime are probably not related.’
Eugène rose to his feet. This way of seeing things suited him best.
Margont interjected once more, ‘I would very much like to ask Your—’
‘Did you say something, soldier?’ the prince interrupted.
Margont was indeed a soldier. However, the words could also mean that if he persisted he risked losing his epaulettes and having his pay divided by twenty. He felt he was approaching a defining moment. It was impossible for him to carry out a thorough investigation under such conditions. Either he did what the prince wanted and scuppered his investigation or he stood up to him. Eugène’s behaviour was completely contradictory. On the one hand, he wanted the murders of this actress, the Polish woman and the sentry to be solved. On the other, he was afraid of facing up to the possibility that one of his officers was a criminal. Saber was always talking about plans and tactics – Margont thought that his friend would have been proud of him at this moment: he had just worked out a strategy for making the prince talk.
‘How could an intruder have made his way into the castle when there were so many people present?’
The prince frowned. ‘Do you listen to me when I speak? I’ve told you more than once that there was a host of domestics. He passed himself off as a valet.’
‘Your Highness, servants wear servants’ clothes. Here’s a man who arrives dressed like a beggar – because you said yourself he was a layabout, so I imagine—’
‘You imagine far too much. He’s said to have stolen a servant’s outfit. The Polish authorities have investigated the matter, I’ll have you know.’
‘Their investigation lasted less than twenty-four hours as—’
‘If a case is solved in twelve hours that does not automatically make it a miscarriage of justice.’
‘Did people notice this madman in the course of the evening?’
‘The question was put to a few trustworthy servants – and only them in order to prevent the spread of rumour – and admittedly the reply was no. But the countess had taken on a large number of staff solely for the duration of that evening’s entertainment. None of her usual valets would have had any reason to pick out one new face among the employees because they were all new.’
The prince was getting annoyed. He was going to break off the conversation. Margont nodded his agreement.
‘Perfect, Your Highness. I’m quite prepared to believe in the efficiency of the Polish investigators. Would you be so kind as to explain to me how this man proceeded?’
‘The day before the reception he entered the house of one of the countess’s servants and stole his outfit. The servant thought it was an ordinary theft. The theft was confirmed by the domestic in question after he had been traced.’
This story was so full of improbabilities and extraordinary coincidences that Margont did not even bother to make a list of them. On the other hand, his strategy was working. Eugène was not fully convinced of the guilt of this deranged man but he wanted to believe it. Margont was toying with this element of doubt like someone pulling at a loose thread, and gradually Eugène’s confidence was fraying. Margont had reversed the roles of prince and captain and this was exactly how he planned to conduct the conversation.
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand, Your Highness. This man killed without a motive …’
‘Not without a motive, but because he is mentally disturbed.’