I read, wrote and sewed well and I had good manners. Sometimes when I get angry with them because we don’t agree about something, I wonder if they’ll send me back to Lesdorf for “breach of contract”. Oh, I’m talking too much! It’s your fault! And now you’re going to think I’m ungrateful. But it’s not true! I love my parents with all my heart. It’s just that I’m frightened. Frightened of losing everything a second time, of living through another earthquake.’
She tried to shake off the sadness that had come over her and added cheerfully: ‘Please excuse me. It’s the gaiety here. Sometimes excessive jollity makes me melancholy; distress, on the other hand, has a galvanising effect. I often say that I’m like an inverse mirror that transforms black into white and vice versa. Which is lucky, since the world is much more often dark than light.’
Margont was gripped by a sort of euphoria, which annoyed him since he liked to believe that the mind controlled the body. He had just understood why the young Austrian girl held such fascination for him. They had both been abandoned. They had fought their suffering and had succeeded in dominating it using sheer force of
will and their own philosophy of life. So Margont was a humanist because, in a way, he manifested towards other people the support and attention that he had found so cruelly lacking. Luise herself had constructed a nest, a cocoon, in which she lived happily with those she loved, and she had been ready to expend whatever energy was necessary in order to defend her little world, which Wilhelm and Relmyer also belonged to. And she had determinedly tried to keep them close to her. Margont and she shared the clearsightedness of those who have been hurt by life, and the pugnacity of those who refuse to succumb a second time. They had suffered the same wounds and recovered by suturing the wounds in practically the same way. From their first meeting each seemed to have divined the other’s scar, even before they had worked out what it was that attracted them to each other. Margont then realised that, contrary to what he would have expected, exposing the secret did not diminish in any way the feelings he had for Luise. Rather, the opposite was true. She seemed admirable to him, and he would have liked to forget everything else and lean towards her to kiss her. Luise blushed as if she read his thought, and she lowered her eyes. Margont in turn tried to guess what she was thinking. In vain. Relmyer spoke to them distractedly and Margont inwardly cursed him. Luise looked up at Margont again, her blue eyes sparkling.
‘You’re not as altruistic as I thought. You’re helping us for several reasons and one of those is your past. I’m happy about that for you. In life, it’s good to know how to be selfish.’
Had Lefine been there, he would have applauded. But he was systematically pillaging the buffet, swallowing quantities of canapes. Luise had arranged civilian clothes for him because his non-commissioned officer’s uniform would not have got him past the footmen. He joined people’s conversations, introducing himself as ‘an aide to Commissioner of War Papetin’. He took great care to make his lies as clumsy as possible so that soon people were asking each other about him, discreetly, behind his back. They suspected him of being one of Napoleon’s spies, the secret weapon of the Emperor, an ace up his sleeve. Perhaps he was that
genius of manipulation, that master of astounding exploits, the extraordinary Schulmeister himself! People said - was it true, false or a bit of both? - that in October 1805 he had persuaded General Mack to believe that Napoleon and his Grande Armée were withdrawing in disarray to put down a widespread rebellion in the Vendee, supported by an English landing at Boulogne. Reassured, Mack had delayed in joining the rest of the Austrian troops. When he realised his error, he had been unable to prevent his division from being surrounded. His punishment: twenty-five thousand Austrians captured in the town of Ulm. Yes, this person was almost certainly Schulmeister since he looked nothing like any of the portraits that rumour painted of the celebrated spy. It was even said that Napoleon, who had regular meetings with Schulmeister, did not recognise him when he was in disguise. The Austrian aristocrats blanched when Lefine went up to them, causing him to bite his lips in order not to laugh.
Relmyer hopped nervously from foot to foot. He hated the celebratory atmosphere. Obviously the magic of Viennese balls, which he had spoken of, failed to stir him tonight.
‘When on earth is she going to be here? The dirty scoundrel.’
He could not bear the wait. Margont realised that Relmyer was different from Luise and himself. Instead of relying on his strength of character, he fell back on his physical strength. He had trained ceaselessly, covering his body with a discreet but effective carapace of muscle and making his sabre into an extra limb. But at this moment physical strength was no help to him and impatience inflamed his anguish. He looked over at the punch the footmen in yellow livery were ladling out. After three or four glasses he would have felt so much better ... but the large crystal goblets of orange or yellow liquid were like wells in which he could not risk drowning.
‘I wonder if she’s in that other room,’ he said abruptly.
That sentence, peremptory and chilling, broke the rapport that had been established between Luise and Margont.
‘But I don’t see her,’ he added.
Luise was entangled in a web of emotions. Anger, fear, impotence,
despair, and disgust at her despair, all mixed together in a disturbing tangle. Paradoxically her face remained expressionless. ‘You’re never going to stop looking for the man, are you, Lukas?’ ‘No.’
Luise looked strained. ‘So we’ll be haunted by this affair for the rest of our lives! Suppose you never find him?’
Relmyer swung round, turning his back on them. His parting words were, ‘Why don’t you just enjoy yourselves! I’ll come and tell you when Madame Blanken is here.’
Luise went over to the buffet. She asked for some cold water, then, annoyed by the mannered slowness of the serving boy, changed her mind and left the full glass on the sparklingly white tablecloth. She glared at Margont, pretending to be offended.
‘Don’t you know that it’s not suitable for a young lady to be alone in the company of a man? If you don’t ask me to dance immediately, people will talk.’
Margont longed to accept the invitation but he was intimidated by the grace of the couples whirling about on the floor.
‘It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to waltz,’ Luise assured him. ‘Let yourself be guided by me.’
That annoyed Margont. Ever since they had met, it had been like that.
Luise led him into the middle of the couples, to avoid being stared at. Margont rapidly felt befuddled by slight vertigo. He held Luise in his arms as everyone wheeled about them. The war was still so close. He had almost been killed at Essling and perhaps he would fall on the next battlefield. He could quite easily have only seven more days to live. He tried to forget about the investigation, the frenzy of past battles and the accumulating signs of the military cataclysm to come. The waltz with Luise represented a few stolen minutes away from the crazy chaos of the world. He accelerated the pace, staring at Luise’s cheerful face, allowing their motion to obliterate the rest of the universe. She smiled, showing glimpses of pearl-white teeth. The musicians also succumbed to the power of the music. The tempo took off, the conductor’s gestures became expansive - now he seemed to follow his baton’s lead. Then
the music stopped abruptly. The silence was like a slap. Clapping crackled throughout the gallery. There was some quick toing and froing, and changing of partners, but Margont did not let go of Luise.