At the end of the wagon, Lieutenant Segal stood staring in their direction, but did not come any closer. He tilted his head as if it would change the view. ‘You think of looking glasses when our prisoner has escaped?’

‘Has it escaped your notice that I am a French woman?’ Anne-Marie walked next to him and pressed her body against his. Her voice softened. ‘I am sorry you are angry with me. Is there nothing I can do to make it up to you?’

He traced the back of his hand down her face, pausing to caress the bruise beneath her eye. ‘Perhaps.’ He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it, eyes never leaving her face. ‘Napoleon will be so interested to meet you, tomorrow.’

‘Will you see to my looking glass?’

‘No. I must find our prisoner before the Emperor arrives.’ He kissed her again. ‘The mirror will not be any less broken if I attend it now.’ Turning from her, Lieutenant Segal shouted for his horse, and made arrangements to begin the search for Vincent.

When he had gone, Anne-Marie stood with her hand at her breast, fingering the bumblebee pendant which hung there. Spinning so that her skirts flared around her, Anne-Marie took up one of the blankets and shook it out. Then she lay it over the rails of the wagon so it formed a tented space large enough to cover two people.

She patted the bare wood bed of the wagon the way one might beckon a dog. ‘Before I change my mind.’

Jane got to her knees and pulled Vincent up to his. Helping each other, they clambered to their feet. Jane reached again for the folds of the Sphère Obscurcie but Vincent stopped her with a hand on hers. He shook his head once.

Untying the threads, he managed them for two steps and then swayed. Jane caught the fold from his hand and played it out two steps more. Passing it back and forth between them, they reached the end of the wagon. Anne-Marie stood in the bed with her back to them, holding a blanket outstretched and shaking it occasionally. With the cover in place, they could safely drop the glamour long enough to clamber on board.

The wagon creaked and groaned under their weight. The driver shifted in his seat. ‘What are you doing back there?’

‘Just arranging the blankets.’ Anne-Marie lowered the cloth and tossed it behind her, keeping her attention focused away from the wagon, as if she wanted to be able to say in truth that she had not seen them.