Grinning, he and his mates accepted the shoes and hurled them upwards. Catching their enthusiasm, if not their meaning, a display of shoe tossing spread through the crowd. Jane winced as a shoe went through a shop window, shattering a pane of glass. She hoped that the damage would be limited.

Then, one of the shoes – Jane knew not whose – smacked the young woman directly in the face. The glamour overhead stopped with an abruptness almost shocking to the senses.

The bourgmestre cleared his throat, his voice unnaturally loud in the silence. ‘Well. Now that the interruption is over, let us proceed to the fireworks for which you have all come. Long live King William the First! Long Live the United Kingdom of the Netherlands!’

The crowd, still confused by the exploit, responded with but a ragged cheer and threw more shoes into the air, but when the fireworks rose from the rooftops, they seemed more in homage to Napoleon than King William.

Jane stood on her toes trying to see her husband, but there was no sign of him or the students. She had little hope that he would be careful, so although it was contrary to his mission, she would rather the culprits escape than have Vincent discover them.

At every burst of light overhead and every crack of the fireworks, Jane flinched.

‘I am certain they are well.’ Mme Meynard put her arm around Jane and patted her. ‘Poor thing, you are trembling.’

She had not realized it until that moment. ‘It is nothing, just the excitement.’

‘What is the matter?’ Mme Chastain peered at Jane. ‘Are you well? You are not, are you.’

‘Please do not concern yourself. I am only wondering where Vincent has gone.’

‘Is he not on stage with the others?’

Jane had been studying the crowd with such intensity that she had not seen him return to the stage. Indeed, he and the students were once more on the stage, working an enormous glamour in concert with one another. They rendered a silhouette of Gilles and the dragon, which fought in time with the fireworks. Much like the shadow plays after dinner, these figures had been simplified to be easier to manage. Jane could only presume by their actions that they were passing the threads from one student to the next in order to avoid being overcome by the effort of working such large folds at such a great distance. For though the base of the folds were firmly rooted to the stage, the tops of the figures reached nearly two stories over the audiences’ heads.

It was a beautiful spectacle, but compared to the French flag and the bees, it seemed imperfectly rendered. The display was intentionally subtle to avoid distracting from the fireworks, but the effect compared poorly to Napoleon’s grand showing.

A question occurred to her, and she applied to Mme Meynard. ‘Why were there bees with the flag?’