‘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.

The Emperor said the man was a goldsmith, with Governor Andréossy adding the man’s name. It was not one known to me, but I have had no business with goldsmiths in my time in Vienna.