Evil in a Mask by Dennis Wheatley Page A

costing the nation hundred of millions of francs, spent mostly in vulgar ostentation with the vain idea that they could impress the ancient sovereign families of Europe and be regarded by them as real royalties.
    An elderly Major remarked, ‘The “Little Corporal” has done so much to restore the greatness of France, that one can’t grudge him the pleasure of showering benefits on his relations; but what does stick in my gills is the licence he allows his Marshals.’
    â€˜They, too, have some claim on France,’ Roger replied,‘for many of them have made notable contributions to the Emperor’s victories.’
    â€˜True enough. Ney at Ulm, Davoust at Auerstädt, and in the early days Augereau at Castiglione and Lannes at Arcola. But so, for that matter, have we all. Yet the Marshals are given vast provinces to loot at will. Out of our wars they are making great fortunes, but not a fraction of it ever reaches us. We have to soldier on for nothing but our pay; and that is often in arrears.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t object to that so much,’ said a youngish Captain of Dragoons, ‘if only the fighting would come to an end, and we could get home.’
    At that there was a chorus of assent, and Roger knew that it now voiced a feeling general in the Army. Some of the older men had been campaigning in, or garrisoning, distant lands for ten years or more. Only by luck had their regiments now and then been brought back to France, thus enabling them to get leave to spend a short spell with their families.
    Roger sympathised, but felt that in his position he was called on at least to make a show of upholding morale; so he said, ‘It’s hard on you gentlemen, I know. But the Emperor dare not make peace until he has smashed the Prussians and Russians for good and all. If he did, within a year or two we’d find ourselves back with the colours, having to prevent our enemies from invading France, instead of fighting them in their own country.’
    â€˜And what if we did?’ retorted a Lieutenant of Engineers. ‘France’s natural frontier is the Rhine, and we could hold it without difficulty. If fight one must, at least let it be there where, between battles, we’d have the benefit of comfortable billets, ample food, good wine and women for the asking. Whereas, in this God-forsaken country, we are frozen, starved and hardly better off then the lice-ridden peasants who inhabit it.’
    â€˜Things will be better in the spring, and that’s not far off now,’ Roger said, in an endeavour to cheer them up. ‘When the campaign reopens, it needs only one more victory by theEmperor and the enemy will be forced to make terms which will include all prisoners of war regaining their freedom.’
    â€˜And what then?’ put in the Captain of Dragoons. ‘That would be all very well for you, Colonel. You and the rest of the gilded staff would go riding gaily back to Paris with the Emperor. But most of us would be left here to garrison the cities and fortresses we’ve taken.’
    The elderly Major took him up. ‘That’s it, and “gilded staff” is right. In the old days they had all risen from the ranks, and were tough, courageous men who cheerfully shared hardships with the rest of us. But since Bonaparte put a crown on his head in Notre-Dame, he’s changed all that. He’s welcomed back the
émigrés
and surrounded himself with young popinjays:
ci-devant
nobles, who are better at making a play for pretty women in ballrooms than risking their skins on a battlefield.’
    Roger frowned, sat forward and asked sharply, ‘Are you implying …?’
    â€˜No, no!’ the Major interrupted him quickly. ‘I meant no offence to you, Colonel. All the Army knows the exploits of
le brave Breuc
. And gentle birth is no crime. But old soldiers of the Republic, like myself, take it ill to receive their orders from