Do you think you can stop meY The door of the gallery was flung open and the girl whom I at once recognized as Genevieve de la Talle stood there. Her dark hair was worn loose and was almost deliberately untidy; her beautiful dark eyes danced with enjoyment; she was dressed in a gown of mid-blue which was becoming to her dark looks. I would have known immediately, even if I had not been warned, that she was unmanageable.

She stared at me and I returned the gaze. Then she said in English:

“Good afternoon, miss.”

“Good afternoon, mademoiselle,” I answered in the same tongue. She seemed amused and advanced into the room. I was aware of a grey-haired woman behind her. This was obviously the nurse, Nounou. I guessed she had been with the girl from babyhood and helped with the spoiling.

“So you’ve come from England,” said the girl.

“They were expecting a man.”

“They were expecting my father. We worked together, and as he, being dead, is unable to come, I am continuing with his commitments.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“Shall we speak in French?” I asked in that language.

“No,” she replied imperiously. f! can speak English well. ” She said, ” I am Mademoiselle de la Talle. “

“I did assume that.” I turned to the old woman, smiled and said good day.

“I find these pictures most interesting,” I said to her and Mademoiselle Dubois, ‘but it is obvious that they have been neglected.”

Neither of them answered, but the girl, evidently annoyed to be ignored, said rudely: “That will be no concern of yours since you won’t be allowed to stay.”

“Hush, my dear,” whispered Nounou.

“I will not hush unless I want to. Wait until my father comes home.”

“Now, Genevieve …” The nurse’s anxious eyes were on me, apologizing for the bad manners of her charge.

“You’ll see,” said the girl to me.

“You may think you are going to stay, but my father …”

“If,” I said, ‘your father’s manners resemble yours, nothing on earth would induce me to stay. “

“Please speak English when you address me, miss.”

“But you appear to have forgotten that language as you have your manners.”

She began to laugh suddenly and twisted herself free of the nurse’s grasp and came up to me.

“I suppose you are thinking I’m very unkind,” she said.

“I am not thinking of you.”

“What are you thinking of then?”

“At the moment of these pictures.”

“You mean they are more interesting than I am?”

“Infinitely,” I answered.

She did not know what to reply. She shrugged and turning away from me said pettishly in a lowered voice:

“Well, I’ve seen her. She’s not pretty and she’s old.”

With that she tossed her head and flounced out of the room.

“You must forgive her, mademoiselle,” murmured the old nurse.

“She’s in one of her moods. I tried to keep her away. I’m afraid she’s upset you.”

“Not in the least,” I answered.

“She is no concern of mine … fortunately.”

“Nounou,” called the girl, imperious as ever.

“Come here at once.”

The nurse went out, and raising my eyebrows I looked at Mademoiselle Dubois.

“She’s in one of her moods. There’s no controlling them. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for you and the nurse.”

She brightened.

“Pupils can be difficult but I have never found one quite so …” She looked furtively at the door and I wondered whether Genevieve added eavesdropping to her other charming characteristics.

Poor woman, I thought, I didn’t want to add to her difficulties by telling her I thought she was foolish to suffer such treatment. I said: “If you care to leave me here I’ll make an examination of the pictures.”

“Can you find your way back to your room do you think?”

“I’m sure I can. I took careful note as we came along. Remember, I’m used to old houses.”

“Well, then, I’ll leave you. You can always ring if you want anything.”

“Thank you for your help.”

She went out noiselessly, and I turned to the pictures, but I was too disturbed to work seriously. This was a strange household. The girl was impossible. What next? The Comte and the Comtesse? What should I find them like? And the girl was ill-mannered, selfish and cruel. And to have discovered this in five minutes of her company was disconcerting. What sort of environment, what sort of upbringing had produced such a creature?

I looked at those walls with their priceless neglected pictures and in those few moments I thought: Perhaps the wisest thing would be to leave first thing in the morning. I might apologize to Monsieur de la Talle, agree that I had been wrong to come, and leave.

I had wanted to escape from a fate which I knew, since my encounter with Mademoiselle Dubois (Splinters, poor thing), could be quite terrible. I had so desperately wanted to continue with work I loved; and because of that I had come here under false pretences and laid myself open to insult.

I was so firmly convinced that I must go that I almost believed some instinct was warning me to do so. In that case I would not tempt myself by studying these pictures further. I would go to the room they had given me, and try to rest in preparation for the long journey back tomorrow.

I walked towards the door and as I turned the handle it refused to move. Oddly enough in those seconds I felt

a real panic. I could have imagined that I was a prisoner, that I could not escape if I wanted to; and then it seemed as though the very walls were closing in on me.

My hand was limp on the handle and the door opened. Philippe de la Talle was standing outside. Now I under stood that the reason I couldn’t open it was that he had been on the point of coming in.

Perhaps, I thought, they don’t trust me here. Perhaps someone always has to be with me in case I attempt to steal something. That was absurd, I knew, and it was unlike me to think illogically. But I had had scarcely any sleep for two nights and was deeply concerned about my future. It was understandable that I was not quite myself.

“You were on the point of leaving, mademoiselle?”

“I was going to my room. There seems no point in remaining. I have decided to leave tomorrow. I must thank you for your hospitality and I am sorry to have troubled you. I should not have come.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You have changed your mind? It is because you think the repairs beyond your capacity?”

I flushed angrily.

“By no means,” I said.

“These pictures have been badly neglected criminally neglected … from an artist’s point of view that is but I have restored far worse. I merely feel that my presence is resented in this place and that it would be better for you to find someone … of your own sex since that seems to be important to you.”

“My dear Mademoiselle Lawson,” he said almost gently, ‘everything rests with my cousin to whom the pictures belong . to whom everything in the chateau belongs. He will be back within a few days. “

“Nevertheless I think I should leave in the morning. I can repay you for your hospitality by giving you an estimate for restoring one of the pictures in the gallery which you will find useful when engaging someone else.”

“I fear,” he said, ‘that my niece has been rude to you.

My cousin will be annoyed with me if he does not see you. You should not take any notice of the girl. She’s quite ungovernable, when her father is away. He is the only one who can put fear into her. “

I thought to myself then: I believe you are afraid of him too. And I was filled with almost as great a desire to see the Comte as I was to work on his pictures.

“Mademoiselle, will you stay for a few days and at least hear what my cousin has to say?”

I hesitated, then I said: “Very well, I will stay.”

He seemed relieved.

“I shall go to my room now. I realize I am too tired to work satisfactorily today. Tomorrow I will make a thorough study of the pictures in this gallery and when your cousin returns I shall have a clear estimate to give him.”

“Excellent,” he said, and stood aside for me to pass.

As soon as it was light next morning, refreshed after a good night’s sleep, I arose exhilarated. I intended to have a look at the chateau grounds and perhaps explore the neighbourhood. I wanted to see the little town, for the old church had struck me as being about the same period as the chateau; and no doubt the hotel de ville was as ancient.

I had had dinner in my room yesterday evening and it had been excellent. Soon afterwards I had gone to bed and slept immediately.

Now the morning brought optimism with it.

I washed and dressed and rang for breakfast. The hot coffee, home-made crusty bread and butter which arrived almost immediately were delicious.

As I ate I thought of the events of yesterday and they no longer seemed as strange as they had the previous night. I had yet to discover what sort of household this was; all I knew at present was that it was an unusual one. There was Cousin Philippe, in charge during the absence of the master and mistress; a spoilt girl who behaved badly when

her father was absent no doubt because when he was there she was in such awe of him; there was the weak and ineffectual governess and poor grey old Nounou, the nurse who had no more control over her than the governess had. Apart from that there was Joseph the groom and numerous servants, male and female, necessary to care for such a vast establishment. There was nothing unusual in such a household; and yet I had sensed mystery. Was it the manner in which everyone who had mentioned him had spoken of the Comte? He was the only one whom the girl feared. Everyone was in awe of him. Everything depended on him.

Certainly whether or not I stayed did.

I made my way to the gallery, where I enjoyed a peaceful morning examining the pictures and making detailed notes of the damage to each one. It was a fascinating task and I was astonished how quickly the morning passed. I forgot about the household in my absorption, and was astonished when a maid knocked at the door and announced that it was twelve o’clock and that she would bring dejeuner to my room if I wished.

I found that I was hungry and said that would be very agreeable. I packed up my papers and went back to my room, where the maid served me with a delicious soup, followed by meat and salad, in its turn followed by cheese and fruit. I wondered if I should eat alone in my room all the time I was here that was if I met with the approval of Monsieur Ie Comte. I was beginning to think of him as Monsieur Ie Comte and to say his name to myself with a kind of mockery.

“Others may be afraid of you, Monsieur Ie Comte, but you will find I am not.”

The afternoon was not a good time for working, I had always found; besides, I needed a little exercise. I could not, of course, explore the castle itself without permission, but I could look at the grounds and the countryside.

I had no difficulty in finding my way down to the court yard to which

Joseph had brought me, but instead of going out to the drawbridge I crossed the loggia connecting the main building with a part of the chateau which had been built at a later date and passing through another courtyard I found my way to the south side of the castle. Here were the gardens, and, I thought grimly, if Monsieur Ie Comte neglects his pictures he does not his gardens, for obviously great care was bestowed on them.

Before me lay three terraces. On the first of these were lawns and fountains, and I imagined that during the spring the flowers were exquisite; even now, in autumn, they were colourful. I walked along a stone path to the second terrace; here, laid out with parterres, were ornamental gardens, each separated from the next by box hedges and yews neatly clipped into various shapes, predominant among them the fleur-delis. Typical, I thought, of Monsieur Ie Comte! On the lowest of the terraces was the kitchen-garden, but even this was ornamental, neatly divided into squares and rectangles, some separated from each other by trellises about which vines climbed; and the whole was bordered by fruit trees.

The place was deserted. I guessed that the workers were taking a siesta, for even at this time of the year the sun was hot. At three o’clock they would be back at work and continue until dark. There must be many of them to keep the place in such good order.

I was standing under the fruit trees when I heard a voice calling: