“I didn’t send for you.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I have no idea.” Jean Marc turned to Juliette. “Suppose we ask Mademoiselle de Clement?”
“Later,” Juliette said, her gaze fixed on François. “Talk. I’m still thinking about it.”
“As you command. We wouldn’t wish to disturb your concentration.” Jean Marc began to pour wine from the silver pitcher into the goblets Marie had set in readiness on the rosewood table. “Dupree is still in Paris, Etchelet?”
“Not much longer perhaps. Georges Jacques is concerned about how the war is going and may leave for the front shortly. He’ll ask Marat to delegate Dupree to his entourage.”
“Perhaps?” Jean Marc grimaced. “I don’t like to depend on uncertainties. Can’t we hurry things a bit? How much would it cost to get the guards at the gates to look the other way?”
“It can’t be done.”
“I could be very generous.”
“Impossible.”
“There are no incorruptible men.”
François inclined his head. “And no one knows that better than you, do they? You frequent the National Convention more than most of the delegates themselves.”
Jean Marc stiffened. “You object to me bettering the fortunes of your fellow revolutionaries?” he asked softly.
“Georges Jacques says I think the revolution is all shining virtue.” François shook his head. “He’s wrong. I know exactly how corrupt some of the men of the convention can be.”
“And you have no quarrel with it?”
“I accept it.” François paused. “As long as it doesn’t strike at the heart of the revolution. Bribe whomever you will to circumvent tax levies and trade embargoes. I do not care. Just stay away from the Rights of Man and the Constitution.”
Jean Marc’s eyes narrowed on François’s face. “And what would you do if I decided I needed to make a few adjustments in those august documents?”
François smiled pleasantly. “Cut your heart out.”
Jean Marc braced. Slowly, he relaxed. Finally, he smiled. “I don’t believe I need to tamper with your Rights of Man. For the most part, I approve.”
“How fortunate for both of us.”
Juliette had been following the exchange with keen interest. The two men were completely different in character and philosophy, yet they were smiling at each other with complete understanding. However, she must stop this verbal minuet and bring them back to the principal topic. “Why is it impossible to bribe the soldiers at the gates?”
François turned to her. “Because they’re more afraid of Dupree than greedy for Monsieur’s francs. Greed is universal but there are certain limits.”
“Not extensive ones.” Jean Marc held out one of the silver goblets of wine he had poured for Juliette. “Perhaps you can persuade them to—What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Juliette couldn’t stop staring at the deep red of the wine in the goblet. Sickness caused her stomach to clench and then churn helplessly. She mustn’t be sick.
“You’re ill.” Jean Marc’s gaze was on her face. “You’ve turned white. Take a sip of the wine.”
“No!” She pushed the goblet from her and stepped back. “I’m not ill. I won’t be ill.”
“Very well. You needn’t become violent about it. I only thought a drop of wine would brace you.”
“Juliette doesn’t like wine,” Philippe said. “I’ve often teased her about it. She always has water with her meals.”
“How unusual.” Jean Marc studied Juliette’s face. “And unhealthy. Water from the abbey must have been a good deal more pure than that of Paris.”
Juliette swallowed and looked away from the goblet. “I don’t know if it is or not.”
