As soon as the last of the sheikhs and imams had departed Napoleon tore off the turban and hurled it to the ground. ‘So much for appeasing their sensibilities! The smug bastards. Laughing up their sleeves at us!’ He whirled round and stabbed a finger at Conté.‘It’s your fault! You and that worthless balloon of yours! Take it down. Get rid of it. Get it out of my sight before I have it cut to pieces and wipe my arse on it.’

‘Sir!’ Captain Conté tried to explain. ‘It was the day’s heat. I could not make my balloon more buoyant than the surrounding air. It works best in cooler climates.’

‘Really?’ Napoleon snapped. ‘Cooler climates? Then you’d better pack it up and fuck off back to France with it, Captain.’

‘Sir! I . . .Yes, sir.’

Napoleon glared at him a moment, then turned round to look for Junot. ‘Junot! Over here! At once, man!’

Junot ran across the courtyard and stood stiffly to attention before his general. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘That other business. Concerning Madame Fourès. See to it now, please.’

‘Tonight, sir?’

‘Tonight. I need something to take my mind off this disaster.’ A smile flickered across Napoleon’s face. ‘I think that she will prove a most diverting companion.’

The door closed behind the woman as Junot left the room and for a moment Napoleon watched her from his seat on the balcony outside. Pauline Fourès was wearing a sheer silk gown that hid little of her fine figure in the wan glow of the oil lamps burning in a bracket hanging from the ceiling. For a moment she simply stared round the room; then she darted across to a small side table and helped herself to a piece of baklava. Napoleon could not help chuckling and she froze at once.

‘Who’s there? General?’

Napoleon rose and entered the room.

‘Madame Fourès, a pleasure.’ He bowed and kissed her hand. ‘Thank you for coming to see me.’

‘How could I refuse?’ She smiled, and her full lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. ‘Colonel Junot was most insistent. And, after all, you are the most powerful man in Egypt.Your word is law.’

‘It is. Please sit down.’ He gestured to the two chairs beside the side table. ‘Since you have started on the delicacies, feel free to continue.’

‘Ah . . .’ She laughed. ‘Now I am ashamed.’

They sat and Napoleon poured them each a glass of wine, and they picked at the baklava as he asked her to tell the story of her adventures since the expedition had left France. When she had finished Napoleon reflected for a moment before he spoke.

‘I envy a man who inspires such devotion in his wife.’