Жюльетта Бенцони - Marianne and the Rebels

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As the city of Florence basks in afternoon sunlight, pleasurable anticipation stirs in the heart of beautiful Marianne d'Asselnat, Princess Sant'Anna. The trials and uncertainties of her eventful past life seem almost over, for she is soon to rejoin her beloved sea rover Jason Beaufort and enjoy with him a peaceful future in America. So she is not particularly dismayed when called upon to render a last vital service to her master, the Emperor Napoleon, whom once she had known as lover and still called friend. But, abruptly, an ominous shadow appears in her future, cast by the dark influence of her unseen husband, the mysterious masked Prince Corrado. The tricks of fate then force her to embark on a perilous odyssey which carries her from luxurious Venice, through Greek islands smoldering with revolt, to the court of the legendary Sultans of the Ottoman Empire.
Through all her adventures her spirit is sustained by her passionate love for Jason, yet always strange, dark forces seem intent on drawing him away from her...
Here is another exciting novel of the world of Europe as Napoleon I strives to make France master of Europe, indeed of the world, and himself its tyrant. The action moves through the courts of Europe and the then largely unknown Ottoman Empire, and a host of characters from the pages of history flit through its pages, bringing a glittering age vividly to life. Marianne and the Rebels, like its author's earlier novels chronicling the adventures of Marianne d'Asselnat, offers historical romance at its satisfying, exciting best.

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Too much put out to feel any inclination to await the return of her impetuous bodyguard, Marianne left her vantage point and began to descend the terraced slopes towards the palace, intending to go to her own rooms and give her orders to her maid, Agathe, regarding the morrow's departure. As she reached the Artichoke Fountain, she repressed a gesture of irritation. Benielli was coming back. But he was not alone. A few paces in front of him walked a man in the blue and gold uniform of a general, wearing an enormous cocked hat decked with white plumes. The Duke of Padua himself was coming hurriedly to meet her.

A meeting was unavoidable. Marianne paused, waiting, feeling vaguely uneasy and yet at the same time curious to know what the Emperor's cousin might have to say to her.

As he came within reach, Arrighi pulled off his cocked hat and bowed correctly, but his grey eyes were already boring inexorably into Marianne's. He spoke, without turning.

'You may leave us, Benielli.'

The lieutenant clicked his heels, about-turned and disappeared as though by magic, leaving the general and the Princess alone.

Not best pleased at finding her way thus effectively blocked, Marianne coolly folded her sunshade and setting the point to the ground, leaned both hands on its ivory handle as though she meant to consolidate her position. Then, with a little frown, she prepared to move in to the attack. Arrighi was before her.

'From your expression, madame, I deduce that this meeting is not to your liking. I must ask you to forgive me if I've interrupted your walk.'

'I had finished my walk, General. I was just about to go in. As to my pleasure or otherwise, I shall be able to tell you that when you have told me what you wish to say. You have something to say to me, have you not?'

'Certainly. But… may I ask you to take a turn with me in these magnificent gardens. They appear to be quite deserted, whereas the palace is thrown into confusion by preparations for departure – and this court rings like a bell!'

He bowed courteously, offering his arm. The injuries to his neck, concealed by the black stock and high gold-embroidered collar, prevented him from bending his head, but this stiffness suited his large frame.

He continued to watch her closely and Marianne found herself blushing under his regard, without quite knowing why. It might have been because it was hard to know what was going on behind those eyes.

With dignity, therefore, she accepted the proffered arm and as she laid her gloved hand on his braided sleeve she was suddenly aware of contact with something about as solid as a ship's rail. The man must be made of granite!

They walked on a little way in silence, avoiding the lawns and pavements of the big amphitheatre and making instead for the peace of a long avenue of oaks and cypresses where the glaring sunlight was diffused into single shafts.

Marianne sighed.

'I collect you don't wish to be overheard? Is our conversation of such importance?'

'The Emperor's commands are always important.'

'Ah… commands! I thought the Emperor had given me all his commands at our last meeting.'

'So it is not your orders but mine I wish to discuss. It is only natural that you should be informed since they concern yourself.'

This approach made Marianne uneasy. She knew Napoleon too well not to feel some alarm at the idea of orders concerning herself and given to no less a person than the Duke of Padua. This was unusual. Still dwelling on what the Emperor of the French might have in store for her now, she merely remarked 'Indeed?' in a tone so preoccupied that Arrighi stopped dead in the centre of the avenue, obliging her to do the same.

'Princess,' he said concisely, 'I am aware that you find this interview tiresome and would ask you to believe that I should greatly prefer to engage you in idle talk. A stroll in your company and in such pleasant surroundings would be most enjoyable. However, I regret that I must request you to give me your full attention.'

Why, thought Marianne, more amused than embarrassed, the man is angry! What a hot-tempered race these Corsicans are, to be sure!

But because she knew that she had been less than polite, she bestowed on him a mollifying smile of such brilliance that the soldier's stern face flushed.

'Forgive me, General. I did not mean to offend you, but I was deep in thought. It always makes me anxious, you know, when the Emperor goes to the trouble of giving special orders which concern me. His Majesty's… er… solicitude is apt to be somewhat demanding.'

As abruptly as his earlier move to anger, Arrighi now gave a bark of laughter and, repossessing himself of Marianne's hand, he carried it to his lips before tucking it back within his own.

'I quite agree,' he said cheerfully. 'It is always unnerving. But if we are friends?'

Marianne smiled again. 'We are friends.'

'Then, if we are friends, listen to me for a moment. My orders are to escort you personally to the Sant'Anna palace and, once within your husband's domain, not to let you out of my sight. The Emperor told me that you had some private matter to settle with the Prince, but one in which he too should have a say. He wants me, therefore, to be present at the interview with your husband.'

'Did the Emperor tell you that it is highly unlikely that you, any more than I myself, will be privileged to see Prince Sant'Anna with your own eyes?'

'Yes. He told me. Nevertheless, he wants me to hear at least what the Prince says to you, and what he wants of you.'

'He may,' Marianne said hesitantly, 'he may simply want me to stay with him?' This was her deepest and most dreadful fear, for she did not see how the Emperor's protection could prevent the Prince from keeping his wife at home.

'Then that's precisely where I come in. The Emperor wishes me to convey to the Prince his express wish that your meeting today shall be a brief one – a few hours at most. It is designed merely to show him that the Emperor accedes to his request and to allow you both to reach some agreement about the future. For the present—'

He paused and taking a large white handkerchief from his pocket mopped his brow with it. Even under the green roof of trees the heat made itself felt and in the heavy uniform, made heavier still by its weight of gold braid, it must have been very nearly intolerable. But Marianne pressed him to go on. She was beginning to find their conversation more and more interesting.

'For the present?'

'The present, madame, belongs neither to the Prince nor to yourself. The Emperor has need of you.'

'Has need of me? But what for?'

'I think this will explain.'

A letter sealed with the imperial cipher had appeared, as if by magic, between Arrighi's fingers. Marianne regarded it for a moment before taking it with an expression of such deep distrust that the general smiled.

'Don't be afraid. It won't explode.'

'I'm not so sure.'

Marianne took the letter to an old stone seat at the foot of an oak tree and sat down, her dress of rose-pink lawn spread like a graceful corolla around her. She slid nervous fingers under the seal of wax, unfolded the letter, and began to read. Like most of Napoleon's letters, it was brief.

'Marianne,' the Emperor had written, 'it occurs to me that the best way to protect you from your husband's resentment is to enlist you in the service of the Empire. You left Paris under cover of a somewhat vague diplomatic mission, now you have a real one, of great importance to France. The Duke of Padua, who is under orders to see that nothing occurs to interfere with your departure, will convey to you my detailed instructions concerning your mission. I look to you to prove yourself worthy of my trust and that of all Frenchmen. I shall know how to reward you. N.'

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