“If I can get papers to get you beyond the barriers to go to Versailles, you’ll continue on to Vasaro.”
She should have known Jean Marc would not easily give up his determination to get her away from Paris. “How can I go to Vasaro when I have to bring the Wind Dancer back to Paris to give to you?”
“I’m going with you.”
“You’ll help me? Ah, that is good.” Juliette suddenly frowned. “Why? That wasn’t in our agreement.”
“I can alter the agreement if I so desire. After all, I’m the one who’s paying the ransom for the Wind Dancer.”
“But you’ll still pay me the two million livres, even if you help me? The agreement will still stand?”
He was silent a moment. “You believe I’d cheat you? I thought you judged my greed to be an honest one.”
Did a flicker of hurt cross his face? No. She had to be mistaken, for his tone had reflected only mockery.
“I suppose my faith in human nature isn’t of the highest either, and I’ve never really understood you, have I?”
“All you have to understand is that I want the Wind Dancer,” he said. “If you’re captured with it in your possession, I’d have a devil of a time getting it back from the National Convention. It’s more sensible for me to help you find it and make sure I get it instead.”
“That’s true.” Her brow knitted in thought. “You mustn’t tell François we’re going to Versailles. When you ask him for papers, tell him to have them made out to us as husband and wife. Let’s see…we’ll be Citizen Henri and Madeleine La Croix and pretend we work at Versailles for one of the nobility. I’ll decide which one later. I’ll wear my plainest gown and cape and you must wear something much less elegant also. Perhaps you can arrange to bribe one of the guards at the gate at Versailles. You seem to be very good at bribing people.” Her eyes began to sparkle. “It’s rather like a painting, isn’t it? First we do the background and then we sketch in the foreground and add color and texture. It will be very amusing.”
“Amusing?”
“Well, interesting anyway.”
Jean Marc smiled. “You remind me of a child eager to dress up for a masquerade.” His smile faded. “One more thing. Before I give you the money for the Wind Dancer, I want a writ of separation from the royal coffers for the statue signed by Marie Antoinette.”
“What good would that do? The republic would confiscate the statue anyway if they knew you possessed it.”
“The Wind Dancer has existed thousands of years, republics and monarchies coming and going. Who knows how long this one will exist? I want the document.”
“You want me to go back to the Temple?”
“Merde, no! It may take time, but I’ll find a way to get a message from you into the Temple asking the queen for the bill of sale. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“We’ll have supper soon. Go wash that dirt off your face. It bothers me.”
“Do you think it doesn’t bother me?” Juliette said indignantly. “I had to pretend to be the lamplighter’s daughter. Do you think I’m wearing these smudges as beauty patches? It was part of my disguise.”
“You don’t need beauty patches.” His gaze was suddenly intent. “They would be redundant.”
Juliette felt a queer ripple of heat go through her. She knew she was no beauty but he still found her pleasing. How quickly his manner had switched from cool incisiveness to sensuality. “I agree.” She quickly turned toward the steps. “I’m aware that no artifice would make me beautiful like Catherine or my mother. Nor would I wish to be. It would only get in my way.” She was mounting the steps quickly, not looking back at him. “You’re fortunate I’m not a beauty or you’d be without your supper until midnight. Even with the help of three maids my mother took at least four hours each day at her toilette.”
“Yes, I’m very fortunate.”
The weariness in his tone caused her to look back at him but his face was mirror-smooth.
The emblem of the Sun King on the zenith of the gates shone in golden splendor in the moonlight, and for a moment Juliette was wafted back to those other times she’d stopped at that very spot. The memory was so strong it was a shock to see not the Swiss guard, but a soldier wearing a black cocked hat flourishing a revolutionary cockade and a uniform sporting a tricolored sash.
Juliette tensed as the guard approached with crisp military precision the wagon she and Jean Marc rode. The light cast from the lantern he carried revealed a face weathered by sun and time with a long nose and slablike cheekbones. His eyes narrowed as he examined the papers Jean Marc handed him.
Juliette drew the woolen cloak more closely about her as a chill of apprehension ran through her. The guard was taking a long time with the papers and he didn’t seem the sort of man who could be easily bribed. What if it was the wrong guard? The papers he was examining had been hurriedly and clumsily forged, but Jean Marc had assured her it wouldn’t matter. The papers were only to give an appearance of authenticity in case there was more than one guard at the gate. There wasn’t. If this was the one who had accepted Jean Marc’s bribe, there was no need for subterfuge.
“You come very late, Citizen. Eight bells tolled only moments ago.” The guard held the papers closer to the lantern.
“We’re on our way to Vendée and wished to claim the belongings we left here two years ago, when our master fled the palace.”
