Napoleon felt the blood drain from his face, and a cold rage seized his body, making his hands tremble. How dare the Russian accuse him so boldly? How could the Tsar betray the amity that Napoleon had so carefully contrived between the two of them? It was clear that every concession made to Russia had been taken as a matter of right. This was no alliance of mutual interest. It was the Tsar whose ambition was unbridled. He took everything and gave nothing. Why, when France had last faced Austria the campaign was over and peace declared long before the Tsar’s army had marched to assist his ally. Even then, the Tsar had taken the opportunity to snap up some of the Austrian lands bordering Russia. The fruits of a victory paid for by French blood, Napoleon concluded bitterly. He glared at Kurakin, tempted almost beyond endurance to explode and expose the duplicity of the Tsar, and those who lied on his behalf . . .

With a great effort, Napoleon held back his anger. This was not the time. His tirades were a weapon to be deployed with care. More often than not they were calculated to have a specific effect. Uncontained rage could be as dangerous to himself as it was frightening to others, if it then caused advisors to be restrained, and provoked enemies to revenge.

Napoleon glanced outside. Dusk was falling over the city and soon it would be dark enough for the fireworks. They were scheduled to begin after the dinner was over, but Napoleon’s suppression of his anger had left him feeling brittle and impatient. Abruptly, he waved to the chamberlain in charge of the entertainments and the man came hurrying over.

‘The dinner is over,’ Napoleon announced.

‘Over?’ The chamberlain raised his eyebrows. ‘What of the other courses, sire?’

‘They will not be needed. Pass the word to the officer in charge of the fireworks. I want the display to begin in thirty minutes.’

‘Yes, sire, but—’

‘But?’ Napoleon frowned at him and the chamberlain lowered his gaze nervously.

‘Yes, sire. As you command.’

The man bowed and backed away the regulation number of steps before turning to issue the orders to the staff waiting the tables. As soon as the Emperor’s guests had finished their soup the bowls were whisked away, and when the last of the waiters had filed out of the room the footmen stepped up behind the chairs. The chamberlain rapped his rod on the tiled floor and the conversation quickly died away.

‘At his majesty’s command, the banquet is over and his majesty is pleased to request that his guests now repair to the river terrace in preparation for the fireworks.’