“You have been a kind host and it was good of you to invite me with Belinda. But I could not be happy. My father ...”

“Of course. Of course, I understand. I have been tactless and foolish.” He took my hand. “Lucie, I love you. I know I could make you happy. I can give you a full and happy life. We will have a happy family. I promise you your welfare shall be the main concern of my life.”

I felt a desire to run away ... up those marble steps into the chateau, to my room, to pack my bag and get right away.

The idea of marrying him filled me with dismay.

“I am sorry,” I said. “But I could not think of marrying.”

“Perhaps I have spoken too soon.”

“No. It is not that. I do not want to marry. I appreciate your kindness, but I could not marry you.”

“Give it a little thought.”

“That is not necessary. No amount of thought would make me change my mind.”

His face darkened. I felt a twinge of that foreboding which came to me now and then.

I was sure that his anger would be something to fear.

He sat back in the seat, glaring out at the lake.

Diable began to swim toward the shore. It occurred to me that the swan sensed Jean Pascal’s anger and believed it was directed at him.

I said, “Look! The swan is coming.”

I stood up and was preparing to move away, for I knew that as soon as we showed that we were not approaching, the swan would turn back to the middle of the lake. Jean Pascal had risen also; but he showed no sign of retreating. He was looking about him for a weapon. With a quick movement he broke a branch from one of the trees and strode toward the water’s edge. The swan flew toward us suddenly and attempted to attack Jean Pascal, who beat at it viciously.

For a few seconds it was not clear who would win, but Jean Pascal was in command. The swan realized this perhaps, for suddenly he flew back and settled on the lake where his mate was patiently waiting for him.

I felt frightened. The attack had been deliberately provoked and I fancied there was some meaning in it. Jean Pascal was angry... furiously angry... and with me, of course, for refusing his proposal. He had had to vent his anger on someone and he had done it on the swan.

I was shaking with fear. There was something maniacal about the manner in which he had attacked the beautiful creature. Was he imagining that he was beating me?

I started to walk back to the chateau. He was beside me very soon, smiling, suave as ever.

“It is time someone taught Diable a lesson,” he said.

I did not answer and he went on, “Lucie, I don’t take no for an answer. Think about it, will you? Just give me that promise. Give it thought. Just consider what it would mean to you. We could be happy, Lucie, I know it. Promise me you will think about it.”

I was a coward, I knew. But I was in his house. I was his guest and I was terribly shaken by what I had seen. I could not tell him of the revulsion I felt, so I nodded my assent.

I wanted to get away and I was unsure how to act. I had traveled with Belinda. Could I undertake the journey back alone? Could I try to explain to Belinda? She would never understand.

I rehearsed what I might say. Something like: “Your father has asked me to marry him. I can’t, so I cannot stay in his chateau.” No. That would not do. Belinda would never understand. She would think I was a fool to refuse her father. I could imagine her comment. “It would be wonderful for you. My father is rich and important. As for you, Lucie, you’re hardly Helen of Troy or Cleopatra. You ought to marry an older man. You’re a bit of an old sober-sided yourself. Young men don’t like that. I reckon it’s the best thing that could happen to you.”

How could I explain to her: he frightens me. My flesh creeps when he comes near me.

I had no idea that he had marriage in mind. I must go quickly. The best thing to do was to get away by myself to think. If I walked in the grounds there was a good chance that I would come face-to-face with Jean Pascal. I went down to the stables and managed to ride off ... unseen.

I found myself riding toward the Fitzgeralds’ house. I could not confide in them, of course, but I did feel the need for company. I experienced a great sense of relief when I met them. They were on horseback and obviously on their way somewhere.

They hailed me with pleasure.

“Were you coming to visit us?” asked Phillida.

“Well... not exactly. I thought it would be nice if I saw you ...”

“It certainly is. Unfortunately we are just going visiting. What a pity!”

“Come tomorrow afternoon,” said Roland. “We shall be at home then.”

“I should love that. What time?”

“Two... no, two thirty?”

“Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

They waved and rode off. I was rather relieved in a way. I wanted to think of the position. I did not want to do anything rash. I could perhaps ask their advice about returning home. Jean Pascal had looked after us on the journey out. I must remember that I should have to get myself across the country and my knowledge of the language was far from perfect. I was not sure of trains and so on. I would need help. I was not sure that I could ask Jean Pascal. I had a feeling that he might try to hinder me.

I wondered whether I could put the matter of my departure to the Fitzgeralds. I needed time to think ... to ponder, so it was just as well that our meeting had been postponed until the next day.

I got through that day somehow. I was on tenterhooks wondering whether I should be able to escape without Belinda and Jean Pascal knowing what was going on. The next day, immediately after luncheon, I was on my way to the Fitzgeralds. I was surprised on my arrival to find that they had a visitor. It was a young woman who was vaguely familiar to me; and as soon as I heard her name, I remembered. “This is Madame Carleon,” said Roland. “She is a neighbor of ours.”

“I picked her up,” explained Phillida, “which was really very clever of me.”

“Phillida is very good at that, as you know yourself,” added Roland. I knew now where I had seen her before. She was the young woman who had come into the hall of the chateau and displeased Jean Pascal by her presence. “This is Miss Lucie Lansdon,” went on Roland.

“I am very pleased that we meet,” said Madame Carleon in very accented English.

“I, too,” I replied.

“We met before at the Chateau Bourdon,” she went on.

“Very briefly,” I said.

“This will not be so brief,” said Roland. “Do sit down. Madame Carleon has told us so much about the countryside. We have been so fortunate in the friends we have made here.”

Madame Carleon was very attractive. She had abundant blond hair which was beautifully dressed and she wore a riding habit of light navy which accentuated her fairness; her eyes were deep blue and she had a short nose and a rather long upper lip; this gave her a kittenish look, which was appealing. She was animated in conversation, now and then breaking into French, but making a great effort to speak our language. She asked me how I liked the chateau.

“It’s a wonderful place,” she said. “I know it well. And you are a friend of Mademoiselle Bourdon... the new daughter, I believe.”

“Yes. We were brought up together... until we were about ten years old. Then Belinda went to Australia and she has been back only a short time.”

“Very interessante. And she is a very attractive girl, this Miss Belinda.”

“Oh yes. She has become engaged ...”

“Here?”

“Well. He was not exactly a friend of Monsieur Bourdon. He is English and was visiting friends here. They brought him along to dine... and it was love at first sight.”

“But that is charming,” said Madame Carleon.

“And there is family approval on both sides?” asked Roland.

“Well, certainly on this side. I think Sir Robert does not have much family.”

“How very exciting,” put in Phillida.

And we went on to talk about the various places of interest in the neighborhood. Madame Carleon lived in Bordeaux and had already taught the Fitzgeralds a great deal about the town.

“I was always interested in Bordeaux,” said Roland, “because it belonged to England once. It came to us with the marriage of Eleanor of Aquitaine to Henry II, and Richard II was born there.”

“So we became enormously interested in the history of the place,” went on Phillida. “We really have had a wonderful time in France. Roland and I were wondering whether we would go along the old pilgrims’ way to St. Jacques de la Compostela.”

“A very daunting journey, I’m afraid,” said Roland. “It takes you right through the Medoc to the Dordogne valley.”

Madame Carleon lifted her shoulders and spread out her hands. “Oh, but you are the adventurous ones.”

“Perhaps we’ll do it one day,” said Roland.

And so we talked until tea was served.

“Angelique does not approve,” said Phillida. “But she humors our English custom of afternoon tea.”

“I think it is a very charming custom,” said Madame Carleon. I found it interesting but I had wanted to talk to the Fitzgeralds about the journey home, and I felt I could not speak of this in the presence of Madame Carleon. I thought, I will come here tomorrow perhaps for I must get away soon. When we were leaving, Madame Carleon said, “I will go part of the way with you. There is someone I have to see before going home and it is on my way.” We left together and before we had gone very far it occurred to me that our meeting had been contrived for almost immediately she began to talk of Jean Pascal. She said, “I hope you are comfortable at the chateau.”

“But... yes.”

“I hope you will not be angry with me ... for what I say.”

“Angry? Why should I be?”

“It could seem perhaps... how do you say in English? ... a little impertinent.

Is that the right word?”

“I can’t tell you that until I hear what it is you are going to say.”

“I must tell you that I know Jean Pascal very well indeed.”

“Oh?”

“Yes ... as well as two people can know each other. You understand?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“He is a man not to trust... particulierement a young girl.”

“I understand what you mean.”

“He can be ... dangerous.”

“Yes.”

“I feel I must tell you... must warn.... Is that what I mean?”

“I believe it is.”

“There have been so many. This girl, your Belinda, she is not the only child ... there are many of them in the country here. He thinks because he owns the chateau he has the right....”

“Le droit de seigneur, you mean?”

“Exactement.”

“I understand fully what you are trying to tell me. I have guessed something of this.”

“He and I ... we were lovers ... for a long time. My husband ... oh, I am a wicked woman ... I deceive him. I did not mean to. I love him ... in a way... but I was fascinated... you understand?”

“Yes.”

“My husband ... he find us. It break his heart. He die soon. He was very sick. I think we kill him. And Jean Pascal ... he does not care. He snap his fingers. He has promised marriage... but no. Not now. He is tired of me. He look round for new people.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“To warn.”

“I don’t need warning.”

“You are so young... and believe me, Mademoiselle Lansdon... youth is very attractive to one so ... jaded? ... is it?”

“Yes,” I assured her. “Jaded. I know all this and I am not in the least tempted.”

“Then I am happy for you. I need not have spoke.”

“I appreciate it very much. It was kind of you... but, because of my feelings, quite unnecessary.”

“Then I am glad. He would be no good. He makes no woman happy. Oh, he is very charming ... in the beginning... but after ...”

“It was good of you to want to warn me.”

“I see you so young ... so fresh ... so innocent.”

“I am all these, but I do know something of the world and I am not in the least likely to become one of his victims.”

“And you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive. I thank you for your kindness. You were not to know it was not necessary.”

“I am hurt, you see.”

I did understand the feeling of a discarded mistress. An unpleasant thought occurred to me. Had he dispensed with her because of his designs on me? I must get away. I could not stay longer in the chateau.

Madame Carleon said, “I will turn off here. I am content. I have spoken. My conscience is happy now. I say good-bye. Perhaps we meet again, eh?” I said I hoped we would and rode back to the chateau.