The King of the Castle

Nine

A few days later Philippe and Claude returned.

“And where is Mademoiselle Lawson?”

“I have told them to take up her tray. She cannot expect to eat at table with us. After all, she is not a guest; she is employed to work here.”

I saw his face darken with contempt for her and . regard for me.

“What nonsense, Boulanger, another place please. And go at once to Mademoiselle Lawson’s room and tell her that I am looking forward to her presence at dinner.”

I waited. The food on the tray was getting cold.

It did not happen as I had hoped. There was no message. Now if ever I should see what a fool I was. This woman was his mistress. He had married her to Philippe so that she could be at the chateau without arousing scandal, because he was wise enough to see that he could afford no more scandal since even kings in their castles had to be a little careful.

As for me I was the odd Englishwoman, who was so intense about her work and to whom it was amusing to talk for a time when one was indisposed and confined to the chateau.

Naturally her presence was not needed when Claude was at hand.

Moreover Claude was the mistress of the chateau.

Startled out of my sleep, I awoke in terror, for someone was in my room, standing there at the bottom of my bed.

“Miss.” Genevieve glided towards me, a lighted candle in her hand.

“I heard the tapping, miss. Only a few minutes ago. You said to come and tell you.”

“Genevieve …” I sat up in bed, my teeth chattering. I must have had a nightmare in those seconds before waking.

“What’s the time?”

“One o’clock. It woke me up. Tap … tap … and I was frightened and you said we’d go and see … together.”

I put my feet into slippers and hastily put on my dressing-gown.

“I expect you imagined it, Genevieve.” She shook her head.

“It’s like it was before. Tap … tap … as though someone is trying to let you know where they are.”

“Where?”

“Come to my room. I can hear it there.” I followed her through the chateau to the nursery which was in the oldest part of the house. I said: “Have you awakened Nounou?” She shook her head.

“Nounou never wakes once she’s. She says once she gets off she sleeps the sleep of

I took the candle from her and led the way down the staircase to the lower floors.

Genevieve’s belief in my courage gave me that quality. I should have been very uneasy walking about the chateau alone like this at night.

We reached the door of the gun gallery and paused there listening.

Distinctly we heard a sound. I was not sure what it was, but I felt the goose pimples rising on my flesh. Genevieve gripped my arm and in the candle-light I saw her startled eyes. She was about to speak but I shook my head.

Then came the sound again.

It was from the dungeons below.

There was nothing I wanted so much as to turn and go back to my room; I was sure Genevieve felt the same; but because she did not expect such behaviour from me I could not tell her that I, too, was afraid, that it was all very well to be bold by daylight and quite another matter in the dungeons of an old chateau at dead of night.

She pointed down the stone spiral staircase and holding up my long skirts with the same hand as that which grasped the candle, for I needed the other to grip the rope banister, I led the way down the stairs.

Genevieve, behind me, suddenly lurched forward. It was fortunate that she fell against me, thus preventing herself from tripping down the stairs. She gave a little scream and immediately clapped her hands to her mouth.

“It’s all right,” she whispered.

“I tripped over my dressing-gown.”

“For heaven’s sake hold it up.”

She nodded and for a few seconds we stood there on that spiral staircase trying to steady ourselves; my heart was leaping about uncomfortably and I knew Genevieve’s was doing the same. I believed that in a moment she would be saying: “Let’s go back. There’s nothing here.” And I would be willing enough.

But some persistent faith in my invincibility prevented her from speaking.

Now there was absolute silence everywhere. I leaned against the stone wall and could feel the coldness through my clothes in contrast to Genevieve’s hot hand which was gripping my arm. She did not look at me.

This was absurd, I thought. What was I doing wandering about the chateau at night? Suppose the Comte should discover me? What a fool I should look! I should go straight back to my room now and in the morning report the sounds I had heard during the night. But Genevieve would think I was afraid if I did that. She would not be wrong either.

If I did not go on now she would lose that respect for me which I believe was what gave me some authority over her; and if I was to help her overcome the demons in her which forced her to strange acts, I must retain that authority.

I gathered my skirts higher, descended the staircase, and when I reached the bottom pushed open the iron-studded door to the dungeons.

The dark cavern yawned ahead of us, and the sight of it made me more reluctant than ever.

‘^f sound comes from,” I whispered.

for I could see one or two of the cages with great chains which had held men and women prisoners of the de la Talles.

I said: “Is anyone there?”

My voice echoed uncannily. Genevieve pressed her body against me, and I could feel her shaking.

I said: “There’s no one here, Genevieve.”

She was only too ready to admit it.

“Let’s go, miss.”

I said: “We’ll come and have a look in daylight.”

“Oh yes … yes….”

She had seized my hand and was pulling me. I wanted to turn and hurry from the place, but in those seconds I was conscious of a horrible fascination. I could easily believe that somewhere in the darkness, someone was watching me . luring me onwards . farther into the darkness to some sort of doom.

“Miss … come on.”

The feeling had passed, and I turned. As Genevieve went before me up the staircase, I felt as though my feet were made of lead and I could scarcely lift them; I almost fancied I heard a footstep behind me. It was as though icy hands were laid on me pulling me back into the gloom. It was all imagination; my throat was constricted so that I could scarcely breathe, my heart a great weight in my chest. The candle dipped erratically and for one second of horror I was afraid it was going out. I felt we should never reach the top of that stairway.

The ascent could not have taken more than a minute or so, but it seemed like ten. I stood breathless at the top of the stairs . outside the room in which was the oubliette.

“Come on, miss,” said Genevieve, her teeth chattering.

“I’m cold.”

We climbed the stairs.

“Miss,” said Genevieve, ‘can I stay in your room for tonight? “

“Of course.”

“I… I might disturb Nounou if I went back.”

I did not point out that Nounou was never disturbed; I knew that she had shared my fear and was afraid to sleep alone.

I lay awake for a long time, going over every minute of that nocturnal adventure.

Fear of the unknown, I told myself, was an inheritance from our savage forebears. What had I feared in the dungeons? Ghosts of the past?

Something that did not exist outside a childish imagination?

Yet when I did sleep my dreams were haunted by the sound of tapping. I dreamed of a young woman who could not rest because she had died violently. She wanted to return to explain to me exactly how she had died.

Tap! Tap!

I started up in bed. It was the maid with my breakfast. Genevieve must have awakened early, for she was no longer in my room.

The next afternoon I went down to the dungeons alone. I had intended to ask Genevieve to accompany me, but she was nowhere to be found and as I was a little ashamed of my terror of the night before, I wanted to show myself - here was nothing to fear.

as I stepped farther into the dungeon, a heavy door closed behind me and I could not suppress a little scream for a dark shadow loomed up behind me and a hand caught my arm.

“Mademoiselle Lawson!”

I gasped. The Comte was standing behind me.

“I…”

I began.

“You startled me.”

“It was foolish of me. How dark it is with the door shut.” Still he did not open it. I was conscious of him very close to me.

“I wondered who was here,” he said.

“I might have known it would be you. You are so interested in the chateau. So naturally you love to explore… and a gruesome place like this would be particularly attractive.”

He had laid a hand on my shoulder. If I had wanted to protest at that moment I should have been unable to; I was filled with fear the more frightening because I did not know what I feared.

His voice sounded close to my ear.

“What did you hope to discover, Mademoiselle Lawson?”

“I hardly know. Genevieve heard noises and last night we came down to investigate. I said we would come back by daylight.”

“So she is coming too?”

“She may.”

He laughed.

“Noises?” he said.

“What noises?”

“A tapping sound. Genevieve has mentioned it before. She came to my room because I was interested and I had said that if she heard it again we would investigate.”

“You can guess what it is,” he said.

“Some deathwatch beetle settling down to a banquet off the old chateau. We’ve had them before.”

“Oh … I see.”

“It would have occurred to you, of course. You must have encountered him in some of your stately homes of England. “

“Of course. But these stone walls …”

“There’s plenty of wood in the place.” He drew away from me, and going to the door threw it open. Now I could see more clearly, the miserable cages, the dreadful rings and chains . and the Comte, looking pale, I thought, and his expression more veiled even than usual.

“If we have some beetle in the place it means trouble.” He grimaced and lifted his shoulders.

“You will have this investigated?”

“In time,” he said.

“After the grape harvest perhaps. It takes those wretches a long time to tap this place away. It was only ten years ago that it was overhauled. There shouldn’t be much trouble.”

“You suspected it?” I asked.

“Is that why you were investigating?”

“No,” he said.

“I saw you turn down the staircase and followed. I thought perhaps you had made a discovery.”

“A discovery? What sort of discovery?”

“Uncovered some work of art. You remember you were telling me?”

“Yes, do tell her. Tell her to go to sleep and not listen for it.”

“I will,” I said.

We mounted the stairs together and as usual in his company my feelings were mixed. I felt as though I had been caught prying and on the other hand I was elated to be talking to him again.

I explained to Genevieve when we went riding together the next day.

“Beetles!” she cried.

“Why, they’re almost as bad as ghosts.”

“Nonsense,” I laughed.

“They’re tangible creatures and they can be destroyed.”

“If not, they destroy houses. Ugh! I don’t like the thought of our having beetles. And what are they tapping for?”

“They tap on the wood with their heads to attract their mates.”

That made Genevieve laugh and we became rather gay. I saw that she was relieved.

It was a lovely day. There had been heavy intermittent showers all the morning and the grass and trees smelt wonderfully fresh.

The grapes, which had been severely pruned so that about ninety per cent of the growth had been cut away, were looking fine and healthy.

Only the best remained, and they would have plenty of room to absorb the sunshine to make them sweet and give a real chateau wine.

Genevieve said suddenly, “I wish you came to dinner, miss.”

“Thank you, Genevieve,” I said, ‘but I cannot come uninvited and in any case I am perfectly content with a tray in my room. “

“Papa and you used to talk together.”

“Naturally.”

She laughed.

“I wish she hadn’t come here. I don’t like her. I don’t think she likes me either.”

“You are referring to your Aunt Claude?”

“You know to whom I’m referring and she’s not my aunt.”

“It’s easier to call her so.”

“Why? She’s not much older than I am. They seem to forget I’m grown up. Let’s go to the Maison Bastide and see what they’re doing.”

Her face, which had been set in discontented lines when she had talked of Claude, changed at the prospect of going to the Bastides’, and as I was afraid of these sudden moods of hers, I was very willing to turn Bonhomme in the direction of their house.

We found Yves and Margot in the garden. They carried baskets on their arms and were bent double examining the front path as they sang in their thin childish voices and now and then shouting to each other.

We tied our horses to the post and Genevieve ran to them asking what they were doing.

“Don’t you know?” demanded Margot, who was at this stage of her young life inclined to think those who did not know what she knew were excessively ignorant.

“Snails!” cried Genevieve.

Yves looked up at her grinning and held out his basket to show her. In it lay several snails.

“We’re going to have a feast!” he told her.

He stood up and began to dance, singing:

“C’etait un petit bon homme luron C’etait un petit bon homme Qui al lait a Montbron …”

He squealed: “Look at this one. He’ll never go to Montbron. Come on mon petit bon homme He grinned at Genevieve.

“We’re going to have a feast of snails. The

rain has brought them out. Get a basket and come and help. “

“Where?” asked Genevieve.

“Oh, Jeanne will give you one.”

Genevieve ran off to the back of the house and round to the kitchen where Jeanne was busy preparing some pot-au-feu; and I thought how she changed when she came to this house.

Yves rocked on his haunches.

“You must come and join in the feast. Miss Dallas,” he said.

“Not for two weeks,” shrilled Margot.

“We keep them for two weeks and then they’re served with garlic and parsley.” Yves smoothed his hand over his stomach reminiscently.

“Delicious!”

Then he began to hum his escargot song to himself while Genevieve came back with a basket and I went into the house to talk to Madame Bastide.

Two weeks later when the snails the children had collected were ready to be eaten, Genevieve and I were invited to the Maison Bastide. Their habit of making a celebration out of simple occasions was an endearing one and was for the benefit of the children. I thought what an excellent idea it was because Genevieve was always happier at such times and when she was happier her conduct improved. She really seemed as if she wanted to please.

But as we rode over we met Claude, who appeared to be coming from the vineyards. I saw her before she saw us; her face was flushed and there was an air of absorption about her; I was struck afresh by her beauty.

However, when she saw us her expression changed.

She asked where we were going and I told her we had been invited to the Bastides’.

When she rode on Genevieve said: “I believe she would have liked to forbid us to go. She thinks she is mistress here but she’s only Philippe’s wife. She behaves as though . “

Her eyes narrowed, and I thought: She is less innocent than we have believed. She knows of the relationship between this woman and her father.

I said nothing and we rode on until we came to the Maison Bastide.

Yves and Margot were waiting for us and greeted us vociferously.

It was the first time I had tasted snails, and they all laughed at my reluctance. I am sure they were delicious, but I could not eat them with the same enthusiasm as the rest of the party.

The children talked of snails and how they asked their saints to send the rain to bring them out, while Genevieve listened eagerly to all they said. She was shouting as loudly as the others and joining in when they sang the escargot song.

Jeane Pierre came in the middle of it. I had seen less of him lately for he had been so busy in the vineyards. He greeted me with his usual gallantry, and I noticed with some alarm the change in Genevieve when he entered. She seemed to throw off her childishness, and it was apparent to me that she listened eagerly to everything he said.

“Come and sit next to me, Jean Pierre,” she cried, and without hesitation he drew a chair to the table and wedged it in between her and Margot.

They talked of snails, and Jean Pierre sang to them in his rich tenor voice while Genevieve watched him, a dreamy expression in her eyes.

Jean Pierre caught my glance and immediately turned his attention to me. Genevieve burst out: “We’ve got beetles in the chateau. I wouldn’t mind if they were snails. Do snails ever come indoors? Do they ever tap with their shells?”

She was making a desperate bid for his attention and she had it.

“Beetles in the chateau?” he asked.

“Yes, they tap. Miss and I went down to see in the night, didn’t we, miss? Right down into the dungeons we went. I was scared. Miss wasn’t.

Nothing would scare you, miss, would it? “

“Certainly not beetles,” I said.

“But we didn’t know it was beetles till Papa told you.”

“Beetles in the chateau,” repeated Jean Pierre.

“Death watch? That’s set Monsieur Ie Comte in a panic, I’ll swear.”

“I have never seen him in a panic and he certainly was not over this.”

“Oh, miss,” cried Genevieve, ‘wasn’t it awful. down there in the dungeon and we only had the candle. I was certain someone was there . watching us. I felt it, miss. I did really. ” The children were listening with round-eyed attention, and Genevieve could not resist the temptation to focus the interest on herself.

“I heard a noise .. ” she went on.

“I knew there was a ghost down there. Someone who had been kept a prisoner and had died and whose soul couldn’t rest…”

I could see that she was getting too excited. There was a rising hysteria in her. I caught Jean Pierre’s eyes, and he nodded.

“Well,” he cried, ‘who is going to dance the “March of the Escargots”

It is only fitting that having feasted off them we should dance in their honour. Come, Mademoiselle Genevieve. We will lead the dance.”

Genevieve sprang up with alacrity, her face flushed, her eyes shining, and putting her hand in that of Jean Pierre she danced round the room.

We left the Maison Bastide about four o’clock. As we entered the chateau one of the maids came running to me and told me that Madame de la Talle wished to see me in her boudoir as soon as possible.

I did not wait to change but went to her in my riding-habit.

I knocked on her bedroom door and heard her voice rather muffled bidding me enter. I did so. There was no sign of her in the elaborately-furnished room with its fourposter bed hung with peacock-blue silk hangings.

I noticed an open door, and through it she called to me:

“In here, Mademoiselle Lawson.”

Her boudoir was a room about half the size of her bedroom. It was fitted with a large mirror, hip-bath, dressing-table, chairs and sofa, and contained an overpowering smell of scent. She herself was reclining on the sofa wrapped in a pale blue silk robe, her yellow hair falling about her shoulders. I hated admitting it to myself but she looked very beautiful and seductive.

She regarded one bare foot which was thrust out from the blue robe.

“Oh, Mademoiselle Lawson, you’ve just come in. You’ve been to the Bastides’?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Of course,” she went on, ‘we have no objection to your friendship with the Bastides. “

I looked puzzled and she added with a smile: “Certainly not. They make our wine; you clean our pictures.”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“I am sure you will. Mademoiselle Lawson, if you con sider it. I am thinking of Genevieve. I am sure Monsieur Ie Comte would not wish her to be on terms of such … intimate friendship with … his servants.” I was about to protest when she went on quickly, and there was almost a gentle note in her voice as though she were trying to make this as easy as possible for me: “Perhaps we protect our young girls more here than you do in England. We feel it unwise to allow them to mix too freely with those not in their social class. It could in some circumstances lead to … complications. I am sure you understand.”

“Are you suggesting that I should prevent Genevieve’s calling at the Bastides’ house?”

“You do agree that it is unwise?”

“I think you give me credit for carrying more weight than I do. I am sure I could not prevent her doing what she wished. I can only ask her to come to you so that you can make your wishes known to her.”

“But you accompany her to these people. It is due to your influence .”

“I am sure I could not stop her. I will tell her you wish to speak to her.”

And with that, I left her.

I had retired to my room that night and was in bed but not asleep when the disturbance started.

I had heard shrill screams of fear and anger, and putting on my dressing-gown went into the corridor. I could hear someone calling out in protest. Then I heard Philippe’s voice.

As I stood at the door of my room hesitating what to do, one of the maids came running by.

“What’s wrong?” I cried.

“Snails in Madame’s bed.”

I went back to my room and sat down thoughtfully. So this was Genevieve’s answer. She had taken the reprimand demurely enough, or so it had seemed while she planned her revenge. There would be trouble about this.

I went along to her room and knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer so I went in to find her lying on her back pretending to be asleep.

“It’s no use,” I said.

So she opened one eye and laughed at me.

“Did you hear the shouting, miss?”

“Everyone must have heard it.”

“Imagine her face when she saw them!”

“It’s not really very funny, Genevieve.”

“Poor miss. I’m always sorry for people who have no sense of humour.”

“And I’m sorry for people who play senseless pranks for which they alone will have to suffer. What do you think is going to be the outcome of this?”

“She is going to learn to mind her own affairs and not pry into mine.”

“It might not turn out as you think.”

“Oh, stop it! You’re as bad as she is. She is trying to stop my going to see Jean Pierre and the rest of them. She won’t, I tell you.”

“If your father forbids it…”

She stuck out her lower lip.

“Nobody is going to forbid me to see Jean Pierre … and the rest of them.”

“The way to deal with this is not to play schoolgirl tricks with snails.”

“Oh, isn’t it? Didn’t you hear her shout? I’ll bet she was terrified.

Just serve her right. “

“You don’t imagine that she will let this pass?”

“She can do what she likes. I’m going to do what I like.”

I could see that it was no use talking to her, so I left her. But I was growing alarmed; not only by her foolish behaviour, which I was sure would only result in her disadvantage, but by the fact of her growing obsession with Jean Pierre.

I was in the gallery next morning when Claude came in. She was dressed in a dark blue riding-habit and wore a blue bowler riding-hat. Beneath it her eyes were deep blue; I knew she was very angry and trying to hide this.

“There was a disgraceful scene last night,” she said.

“Perhaps you heard.”

“I heard something.”

“Genevieve’s manners are deplorable. It is not to be wondered at, considering the company she keeps.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“And I think. Mademoiselle Lawson, that you are in some ways to blame.

You will agree that it is since you came here that she has become so friendly with the wine growers

“That friendship has nothing to do with her bad manners. They were deplorable when I arrived.”

“I am convinced that your influence is not a good one, Mademoiselle Lawson, and for that reason I am asking you to leave.”

“To leave!”

“Yes, it’s by far the best way. I shall see that you are paid what is due to you and my husband may help you to find other work. But I don’t want any arguments. I should like you to be out of the chateau within two hours.”

“But this is absurd. I haven’t finished my work.”

“We will get someone to take it over.”

“You don’t understand. I use my own methods. I can’t leave this picture until it’s finished.”

“I am mistress here. Mademoiselle Lawson, and I am asking you to leave.”

How sure she was of herself! Had she reason to be? Had she so much influence with him? Had she but to ask favours for them to be granted?

She was clearry*’of that opinion. She had complete confidence that the Comte would deny her nothing.

Her lips curled.

“Very well. You shall receive your orders from him.”

I was conscious of a cold fear. There must be a strong reason for that absolute assurance. Perhaps she had already discussed me with the Comte. Perhaps she had already asked for my dismissal and he, being eager to indulge her, had granted this wish. I tried to hide my apprehension as I followed her to the library.

She threw open the door and cried: “Lothair!”

“Claude,” he said, ‘my dear? “

He had risen from his chair and was coming towards

us when he saw me. For half a second he was taken aback. Then he bowed his head in acknowledgement of my presence.

“Lothair,” she said, “I have told Mademoiselle Lawson that she cannot remain. She refused to take her dismissal from me, so I have brought her to you so that you can tell her.”

“Tell her?” he asked, looking from her angry face to my scornful one.

I was conscious in that moment how beautiful she was. Anger had put a deep flush in her cheeks which accentuated the blue of her eyes, the whiteness of her perfectly-shaped teeth.

“Genevieve put snails in my bed. It was horrible.”

“My God!” he murmured under his breath.

“What pleasure does she get from playing these foolish tricks?”

“She thinks it is very amusing. Her manners are appalling. What can be expected … did you know that her dearest friends are the Bastides?”

“I did not know,” said the Comte.

“Well, I can assure you it is so. She is constantly there. She tells me that she does not care for any of us here. We are not so pleasant, so amusing, so clever as her dear friend Jean Pierre Bastide. Yes, he is her dearest friend although she adores the whole family. The Bastides! You know what they are.”

“The best wine-growers in the district,” said the Comte.

“The girl scuttled into a hasty marriage only a short while ago.”

“Such scuttling is not such a rare occurrence in our district, Claude, I do assure you.”

“And this wonderful Jean Pierre. He’s a gay fellow so I’ve heard.

Are you going to allow your daughter to behave like a village girl who in a very short time will have to learn toer . scuttle out of an unfortunate position? “

“You are becoming too excited, Claude. Genevieve shall not be allowed to do anything unbecoming. But how does this concern Mademoiselle Lawson?”

“She has fostered this friendship; she accompanies Genevieve to the Bastides’. She is their great friend. That is all very well. It is because she has introduced Genevieve into their circle that I say she must go.”

“Go?” said the Comte.

“But she hasn’t finished the pictures. Moreover she has been talking to me about wall panels.”

She went close to him, lifting those wonderful blue eyes to his face.

“Lothair,” she said, ‘please listen to me. I am thinking of Genevieve.”

He looked beyond her at me.

“You do not say anything, Mademoiselle Lawson.”

“I shall be sorry to leave the pictures unfinished.”

“That is unthinkable.”

“You mean … you are on her side?” demanded Claude.

“I mean that I can’t see what good Mademoiselle Law-son’s going could bring to Genevieve, and I can see what harm it would bring to my pictures.”

She stood back from him. For a moment I thought she was going to strike him; instead she looked as though she were about to burst into tears, and turning walked out of the room.

“She is very angry with you,” I said.

“With me? I thought it was with you.”

“With both of us.”

“Genevieve has behaved badly again.”

“Yes, I fear so. It was because she was forbidden to go to the Bastides’.”

“And you have taken her there?”

“Yes.”

“You thought it wise?”

“At one time I thought it very wise. She misses the society of young people. A girl of her age should have friends. It is because she had none that she is so unpredictable . given to moods and tantrums, playing these tricks. “

“I see. And it was an idea of yours to give her this companionship ?”

“Yes. I have seen her very happy at the Bastides’.”

“And you also?”

“Yes. I have enjoyed their company very much.”

“Jean Pierre has a reputation for being … gallant.”

“Who has not? Gallantry is as common in this part of your country as the grape.” To be in his company made me reckless. I felt I had to discover what his feelings were towards me . and how they compared with what he felt for Claude. I said: “I’ve been thinking that perhaps it would be as well if I left. I could go in say … two weeks. I think I could finish the pictures I have started on by that time. That would satisfy Madame de la Talle, and as Genevieve could scarcely go riding alone to the Bastides’, this matter would be neatly settled.”

“One cannot run one’s life for the sake of neatness, Mademoiselle Lawson.”

I laughed, and he laughed with me.

“Now please,” he said, ‘no more talk of leaving us. “

“But Madame de la Talle …”

“Leave me to deal with her.”

He looked at me, and for one glorious moment it seemed as though the mask slipped from his face. He might have been telling me that he could no more bear to lose me than I could bear to go.

When next I saw Genevieve I noticed the sullen set of her lips.

She told me she hated everyone . the whole world. Chiefly she hated the woman who called herself Aunt Claude.

“She has forbidden me again to go to the Maison Bastide, miss. And

this time Papa was with her. He said I must not go there without permission from him. That means never … because he’ll never give it.”

“He might. If…”

“No. She has told him not to and he does what she tells him. It’s strange to think of him doing what anyone tells him … but he does what she says.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t always.”

“You don’t know, miss. Sometimes I think you don’t know much about anything but speaking English and being a governess.”

“Governesses at least have to know a good deal before they can teach.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, miss. I hate everybody in this house, I tell you. One day I’ll run away.”

A few days later I met Jean Pierre. I was riding alone, for Genevieve had avoided me since her outburst.

He came galloping up to me, his expression one of extreme pleasure as it always was when he saw me.

“Look at those grapes!” he cried.

“Did you ever see the like? We shall have wine this year worthy of bottling with the chateau label. If nothing goes wrong,” he added hastily as though placating some god who might be listening and punish him for arrogance.

“There’s only one other season I remember when they were as good.” His expression changed suddenly.

“But I might not be here to see this harvest.”

“What!”

“Hints, so far. But Monsieur Ie Comte is looking for a good man to send to the Mermoz vineyard, and I am a very good man, so I’m told.”

“Leave Gaillard! But how could you do that?”

“Simply by moving myself to Mermoz.”

“It’s impossible.”

“With God and the Comte all things are possible.” He was passionately angry suddenly.

“Oh, don’t you see, Dallas, we are of no importance to Monsieur Ie Comte. We are pawns to be moved this way and that all for the benefit of the games he plays.

He does not want me here, shall we say . well, then, I am moved across the chequer board to another place. I am a danger here . to Monsieur Ie Comte. “

“A danger? How could you be?”

“How can a humble pawn threaten to put the king in check? That is the subtlety of the game. We do not see how we disturb or threaten the peace of mind of the great. But if we do for a moment we are whisked far away. Do you understand?”

“He is very kind to Gabrielle. He settled her in St. Vallient with Jacques.”

“Oh, very kind …” murmured Jean Pierre.

“And why should he want you out of the way?”

“There could be several reasons. It may be because you and Genevieve had visited us.”

“Madame de la Talle wanted to dismiss me because of it. In fact she appealed to the Comte.” || “And he wouldn’t hear of it?”

“He wants his pictures restored.”

“Is that all, do you think? Dallas, be careful. He’s a dangerous man.”

“What do you mean?”

“Women are fascinated by danger, so they tell me. His wife, poor lady, was most unhappy. She was unwanted so she departed.”

“What are you trying to tell me, Jean Pierre?”

“To take care,” he said.

“To take great care.” He leaned towards me and taking my hand, kissed it.

“It is important".