‘Good.’ Napoleon looked at her for a moment longer and then turned his attention back to his meal. He was aroused at the prospect of meeting the woman, and at the same time felt a vague sense of shame at pulling rank over her husband, and the prospect of being unfaithful to Josephine, in spirit at least. Then his heart hardened. Let Josephine hear of this. Let her suffer the injury he had endured at her hands. As for Lieutenant Fourès? Napoleon shrugged. Perhaps it was time for Fourès to share his general’s knowledge of the perfidy of women.

The sheikh coughed softly. ‘I beg your pardon, General, but how long does this balloon of yours take before it makes its ascent?’

‘What?’ Napoleon shook off his thoughts of Josephine and Pauline Fourès. He looked across the square. Captain Conté was desperately piling more fuel on to the fire. Above it the material of the balloon had barely risen and resembled nothing so much as the flaccid, wrinkled breast of an old woman. Napoleon granted the captain a few minutes’ grace, then discreetly gestured to Junot to come closer.

‘Sir?’

‘Have a word with Conté. Nothing too harsh, you understand, but tell him he’d better get that thing up in the air before he makes complete fools of us.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Junot eased himself up from his divan, strolled across the courtyard and beckoned to the hapless Captain Conté, who emerged from under the platform with his face glistening with sweat and streaked with grime. He listened to Junot for a moment, looked past him towards Napoleon, and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

‘Is there a problem, General?’

Napoleon turned to the sheikh.‘Not at all. Demonstrations of such complexity take time, that’s all.’

‘It’s just that your captain doesn’t seem very happy. Does he really know what he’s doing?’

‘Who? Captain Conté?’ Napoleon was hurt by the accusation and impulsively rushed to defend the reputation of his officer.‘Captain Conté has one of the most brilliant minds in the French army. That’s why I personally selected him for this campaign.’>

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Napoleon said irritably. ‘The man is a genius. He invented the pencil, you know.’

‘The pencil.’The sheikh nodded slowly. ‘Then, truly, he is not a man to be underestimated.’

Napoleon could not take the humiliation any more. He rose, and made an excuse that he had work to attend to and was sorry but the demonstration would have to wait for another day.

‘I quite understand, General,’ the sheikh responded with a kindly expression. ‘Perhaps when Allah is more willing to permit men to behave like birds.’

‘Yes, quite.’