The Magician's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

A hundred hounds. Imagine. You’ll enjoy that, won’t you, dear lady? You’ll be there, hah?’
    She nodded in a way which she hoped could mean either yes or no. And again felt panic. Aristocrats, hunting dogs, things she knew nothing about. How was she going to get through this conversation, this evening, this week? But then she looked again to her right. The Colonel, talking to his neighbour, caught her eye and gave her a complicit smile. Reassured, she picked up the menu. There were six courses, soup, foie gras, fish, roasts, lobsters, desserts. How could they possibly eat all of this in an hour? But as the band continued to play and the dishes were put in front of her it was, at least, a reprieve from having to talk to the Count de Burgos, who, once he saw food, abandoned all attempts at speech. Coffee and liqueurs were served at the table and precisely at eight-thirty the Emperor and Empress rose. At once, lackeys came forward and drew chairs from under the guests, forcing everyone to stand up.
    Emmeline, unsure, looked to the Colonel who, offering his arm, escorted her in procession back down the long corridor where the cent gardes stood immobile as before and into the grande salle des fêtes where he excused himself and went off to another part of the room. Far away, down the enormous salon, a gentleman sat down at an upright piano and began to play a tune.
    Emmeline, alone, ignored by those around her, walked aimlessly among the groups of chatting guests. A few people had begun to dance, urged on by the chamberlains who circulated like anxious nursemaids, shepherding them towards the piano music which sounded faint and false in this enormous place. And now she saw the Colonel moving among the crowd, looking for someone. With him was Henri, they must be looking for her. She hurried to them, waving to attract their attention.
    ‘At last!’ her husband said when she came up. ‘How are you, my darling? Are you enjoying yourself? The Colonel tells me you were his dinner companion.’
    ‘And how fortunate for me,’ the Colonel said and again gave her that special smile. ‘Well, now that I’ve reunited you two . . .’ He turned to Lambert. ‘By the way, I’ve been told it will definitely not be this evening.’
    Bowing to her, he moved off and was at once accosted by two gentlemen with whom he began a conversation. She stood abandoned, with Henri, Henri who had not looked after her, Henri who was so honoured to be here among these people that he did not see the obvious: he and Emmeline were at the lowest rung of this social ladder, ignored, shut off in cold attic quarters under the roof.
    ‘ What will definitely not be this evening?’ she asked. ‘What’s he talking about?’
    ‘Our audience with the Emperor. I’m not surprised. I imagine it will take place in private. It’s too important to discuss in front of other people.’
    ‘If it’s so important and you’re so important, why are we stuck up in that cold attic?’
    ‘Darling, at dinner tonight Gounod, the composer, said that his room is damp and cold and looks out on the stables and that other people are complaining of the same thing. Apparently it happens all the time at these séries . Compiègne is part of French history but that doesn’t make it comfortable.’
    ‘And what about Colonel Deniau? I’m sure he’s not in some damp room.’
    ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. Why are you being so disagreeable? I’ve spent a lot of money to bring you here. You might as well try to enjoy it.’
    She did not answer for at that moment a chamberlain approached and asked if they would like to dance. ‘If we can get the dancing properly started,’ the chamberlain said, ‘then the Empress may join in.’
    At once, as though he were a servant not a guest, her husband took her arm and led her on to the floor.
    ‘Why are we dancing?’ she said. ‘You don’t like dancing. Why do something we don’t want to do?’
    ‘It’s just good