Free Memory of Flames by Isabel Reid (Translator) Armand Cabasson

point. And that’s just where we should strike him! A friend of mine who’s a duellist taught me that way of fighting.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘I don’t doubt Bonaparte’s military talent. It would be difficult to defeat him on the battlefield. Unless he had no more army left! So we have to convince the French to abandon him.’
    ‘Interesting. But you didn’t answer my question.’
    It was so dark that Margont could not even make out the outlines of anyone there, and he could not accommodate what he was saying to the expressions on people’s faces or to their demeanour. He had to rely on that over-confident, arrogant, domineering voice, with its ironic intonations. He was on the edge of a cliff and about to be thrown into the void. But his survival instinct had always been strong. Even with a knife at his throat, he refused to give up.
    ‘I served for several years in the Grande Armée. Like many other gentlemen. After I was wounded, I had to return to civilian life. I devoted all my efforts to obtaining authorisation to acquire a printing works. As I had distinguished myself during the Russian campaign, several officers were willing to vouch for me. I had to grease some palms as well but eventually my tenacity paid off. Oh, there are certainly one or two employees who spy on me for the police. But gradually the police have ceased to suspect me, so for a long time now I have felt quite safe. In the end they put my years of emigration in Edinburgh down to a youthful error. Do you know how the praying mantis captures its victims? It moves so slowly that its movements are imperceptible to the insects it preys on. It’s only when it is very close that it suddenly strikes the fatal blow.
    I have overlooked nothing. I returned to France in 1802 and, for all those years since, I have inexorably, step by step, put my plan into action. I have found out all about printing and I have acquired a print shop. It took twelve years of effort! The imperial police don’t pursue things for that long, I can tell you.’
    ‘How long have you had the print shop?’
    ‘For a year. I must emphasise that I am only an associate, but my partner knows nothing about my real intentions. Until recently, I practically never went there. Had I showed up there too often, the police would have become suspicious. All I did was spend the meagre profits when we were lucky enough to have any. But I go there much more often now. The situation is more favourable to us. It’s time for us to take action!’
    ‘What is it that you want?’
    Two things. The return of the King!’
    He stopped talking. The man with the knife pressed harder with his blade. But paradoxically Margont drew strength from the gesture.
    ‘Well? What’s the second thing?’ insisted the leader.
The gratitude of the King ‘What insolence!’
    “‘Audacity, more audacity, always audacity!”’ replied Margont, quoting Danton, one of the most hated revolutionaries. That might have seemed a suicidal tactic, but he was trying to lead the discussion in an unexpected direction and catch the men off guard. He would probably die if he were to try to beat them at their own game, so he was making up his own rules.
    No one answered him so he went on: ‘Before the Revolution, my family lived peacefully on its lands. But I knew that life for only a few years. Then I had everything thrown at me. My family was massacred and our chateau burnt; I was forced to wander from place to place ... I was very young when I emigrated to Scotland. I planned to return to my homeland as an officer, with other royalist emigres and an English army. The English held out the prospect of that dream, but they never fulfilled it. It was too risky, too expensive ... And although they did want to see their old enemy brought to its knees, they never really trusted us. They were still annoyed with us for having resisted them so fiercely in Quebec and partly blamed us for the loss of their American colonies ...