Wolf Hunt (10 page)

Relmyer turned his back on them.

'The old bat isn’t here yet,’ he murmured.

He was watching for her so avidly that he forgot about Luise and Margont. The latter hastened to take advantage of that.

‘Luise - I can call you Luise? - there’s something I’ve been dying to ask you. What did you mean exactly when you said that you had guessed that, in a way, I was an orphan?’

Luise had expected that question.

‘Tell me about yourself and I’ll answer you.’

Her tone was teasing but her expression serious. Margont entered into the spirit of the game.

‘My father died when I was small. My mother couldn’t support us any longer so sent me to live with one of my uncles. He took it into his head to make me a monk. A calamitous idea ...’

Luise tried to imagine Margont as a monk. It was a disturbing image.

‘He must have wanted to redeem his sins,’ she hazarded.

‘And I paid the price. I was shut up against my will in the Abbey of Saint-Guilhem-le-Desert, in the south-east of France. I wasn’t allowed to see my family any more, nor to leave the abbey. I thought that I would never leave the place again. I felt utterly abandoned, like an orphan. I stayed there from the age of six until I was ten.’ Margont had presented his account in an orderly fashion. His summary resembled a report. But rage and sadness boiled within him, like pus in an abscess that would neither burst nor reabsorb itself, so could never heal.

‘How did you escape? You must have driven those poor monks mad.’

‘Actually that was one of my favourite tactics. However, it was the Revolution that liberated me - by suppressing by decree all religious communities.’

Luise shook her head. ‘No, you liberated yourself. Someone can let you out of a prison, but your spirit can still remain a prisoner. I’m the same - I freed myself. It took me years and years ... One day, at Lesdorf Orphanage, they taught us about earthquakes. I was terrified for weeks; I had nightmares. I kept thinking the earth was trembling. I imagined a country where the ground shook all the time, where houses collapsed and people walked about in streets devastated by every strong trembling ... In fact it appears that these phenomena only last a few seconds. Humans can tremble for a lot longer than the earth can. Of course, my adoptive parents genuinely love me. But do you know why they chose me and not someone else? It’s because I was good - very important, that -because I was in perfect health and I was a conscientious student.

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.

‘Again!’ he exclaimed quietly.

A new waltz started up. They twirled about in a haze of colour from the outfits and light from the candles, infinitely reflected by the mirrors and the gold panelling. The charm of the moment was enhanced by Luise’s musky perfume. Margont imperceptibly tightened his grip on the young Austrian’s waist. Time and thought seemed suspended and they were oblivious to the people round them. It was as if they were united in a capsule of emotion, which rolled endlessly in the light.

The orchestra broke off. Margont was looking forward to the next dance, but alas such persistence was unacceptable and Madame Mitterburg had her eye on her daughter. She dispatched the first fellow who came to hand to dislodge Margont. The man halted in front of Luise to request her pleasure, his shoulder nudging

Margont’s, indicating he was prepared to use force to eject the over-tenacious Frenchman. He was a lank, almost skeletal Austrian, the son of a good family who were friends of the Mitter-burgs. He had served in the Viennese militia and had been careful to stay put when the French drew near to Vienna. Had he advanced, he would have been obliged to engage them in combat. Had he fallen back, he would have been obliged to join the Austrian army. So he had stayed where he was, allowing himself to be captured, whereupon Napoleon, wishing to propitiate the Viennese, had amnestied and freed all the militiamen on condition that they returned to their families.

Margont moved away.

He heard Luise say in astonishment to her new partner: ‘Dear me, the Austrian army seems to have forgotten you in their retreat! Of course, when you depart in a hurry, you only take the essentials with you.’

Margont melted into the crowd, which was conversing in several languages. He spotted Luise and then lost her again, thanks to the

movement of the dancing couples. The magic was broken, the music had become just music, and to add insult to injury the exertion had reawakened the pain in his side. That in turn brought back incoherent memories of the carnage at Essling. Instead of the harmonious melody of violins he now heard firing muskets and explosions, and instead of red dresses he saw blood.

Madame Mitterburg came to introduce herself. Her grey hair, lined face, the prominent veins in her hands and her husky voice all emphasised the great age difference between her and her daughter. Margont envied her for knowing so much about Luise.

‘Luise has told me a great deal about you,’ she stated.

Too much, in fact,
 she thought worriedly. She listened politely as Margont explained in German which regiment he served in.

But he hastened to assure her, ‘I’m only a soldier because we are at war. As soon as it’s all over ...’

He stumbled over the end of the sentence. What did ‘all’ signify? He no longer knew. Would the war be over one day? They had fought practically without a break since the Revolution, and even the brief periods of peace had tasted of gunpowder. It felt to him as if they had embarked on another hundred years’ war.

‘I mean, when there is finally peace, I will start a newspaper.’

The old lady listened politely, blinking from time to time. Because she said nothing it was difficult to tell what she was thinking. The word ‘newspaper’ always intoxicated Margont so he launched into a long explanation of his idea.

‘Words are an antidote to the boredom of everyday life and help change the world. Newspapers and books stimulate the mind. It doesn’t matter whether you agree with what you read or not, whether you laugh or cry, get angry or applaud. The only thing that matters is that we read something - anything at all! - that makes us react. And our reaction, our feelings, opinions and new ideas in turn make other things to discuss. They then feed the debate, they add to and propagate the range of the “chemical reaction”.’

He was talking too fast, his German was deserting him and, realising this, he hurried to draw his speech to a close, convinced that his interlocutor was no longer listening.