When Doctor Haydn eventually began to flag, he asked if we might again have the pleasure of the captain’s singing, and if he would be so good as to complete the performance of the aria, accompanied by the pianoforte on which it was written. The captain fair burst with joy at the prospect, and Doctor Haydn sent me to the stool of the instrument with barely more than a nod, not wanting to waste a moment on something as superfluous as speech, or niceties.

If possible, the captain did the aria even better service than he had already, his chest swelling with the breaths it took, his voice modulated to perfection. Doctor Haydn’s cheeks were wet with tears, and I cannot claim mine were unmarked either. Upon the final note, Doctor Haydn raised his arms, and the captain hurried to his embrace. The composer declared it the most beautiful rendering of the aria there has ever been.

‘God sent you to Vienna to put your breath to this,’ he said, and he looked from one corner of the room to another, as if the song might still be there with us, the atoms of it still in the air. He allowed his arms to fall from the captain’s chest, and he wished him safe passage in the weeks ahead.

So taken with the beauty of the moment were we all, that we neglected Captain Sulemy’s hat where he had left it on the piano, and Fraulein Kremnitzer threw it from the window to us as he and I took our places on the jaunting car.

The ride in the car gave me my first opportunity to ask the captain if he knew the business for which the Emperor required me, but he said he did not, other than it was to translate for General O’Reilly. My great-uncle and his adjutant were waiting for me at the former Austrian command post, mounted and with another unfamiliar horse saddled.

On the ride to Schönbrunn, I asked my uncle if he knew of any particular business for which I should prepare my French, but he said he did not, and he told me that he understood the meeting was Napoléon’s doing, and that Governor Andréossy had been unable to cast any light upon the purpose of it.

At the palace we were kept outside the same room as before, and then shown in once the Emperor had concluded his previous matter.

Governor Andréossy was with him, and the two greeted Uncle Drew warmly. Napoléon thanked him for his conduct in the transition to French control in the city, and observed that his keeping of the peace had saved both Viennese and French lives. My uncle nodded but, at that time, did not speak. At Napoléon’s direction another door was opened, and a man brought into the room. He wore a dark coat and had a black beard, and in his hands he held a tray, with a cloth concealing the objects it was carrying.