“Evie was a wonderful rock for us, but she wasn’t particularly sympathetic about our painting. She said it was ” very nice” but I think it was only acceptable because it was our livelihood. He feels you understand, Clare.”

“Oh, I do hope so.”

“One senses it,” I told her.

“You must have had a most exciting time. You look … I waited apprehensively.

“Different,” she finished.

“Different?”

“Well… more worldly, I suppose. Naturally you would … travelling and being recognized. It has made a difference in you. You look … shall I say? … poised.” She laughed.

“Don’t ask me to explain. I was never good at explanations. When you have washed and changed do go and talk to your father. He is so longing to have you to himself I went to him as soon as I could. He was in his study. Hanging on the walls were two miniatures-one he had done of my mother and the other of me as a child. They were exquisite pieces of work his best, I always thought. He would never part with them.

“Kate,” he cried.

“It is good to have you home. Now tell me everything.”

Everything? I should certainly not do that. I wondered fleetingly how my dear, good and rather innocent father would have reacted to the rape of his daughter.

“The Princesse’s miniature …” he went on.

“It was approved.”

“Did the Baron come to see it?”

“No. I had to take it to him. He has paid for it.”

“My dear Kate, you will be rich. Was the Princesse an easy subject?”

“In a way, yes. She was just a young girl.”

“But a Princesse!”

“She was quite a normal girl really.”

“And the Baron …” There seemed to be a long pause.

“He really did like it, then. Was he as enthusiastic about it as he was about your portrait of him?”

“I don’t know. I think he liked it though.”

‘Wonderful. A man who would not be easy to please. “

I wanted to scream out: Please stop talking about him. The only peace of mind I can have is in forgetting him.

“What about you?” I asked.

“You have come to accept… the inevitable.”

“The fact that you have been recognized makes a lot of difference to me, Kate. I always knew you had a remarkable talent, but I did think it was going to be difficult to make the world realize it. And now thanks to the Baron …”

I said quickly: “Has there been any change in your eyes?”

“I fancy I don’t see as well as I did when we set out on our travels.

It is like looking into a fog. a little way off. but the fog creeps nearer. That was a mad prank of ours, Kate, but the wonder of it was that it worked. If the Baron hadn’t NICOLE i if been a true connoisseur of art, it could never have happened. “

Could he not stop bringing the man into the conversation? He seemed obsessed by him.

“I have other commissions now,” I said quickly.

“Yes. That is wonderful.”

“I shall be going back to Paris to the house of the Duponts in three weeks’ time. I have to paint the two daughters, you remember.”

“It’s quite wonderful. And when I think what you owe to the Baron... ”

I said: “I think we should go to dinner now, Mrs. Baines won’t be pleased if we are late.”

So we dined-my father, Clare and I and I tackled the steak pie to Mrs. Baines’s satisfaction and answered the questions which were fired at me.

Clare looked on with her big doe-like eyes, full of happiness because I was home and my father was coming to terms about his encroaching blindness.

It was amazing how many times my father mentioned the Baron. It was impossible to escape from the man and I felt as though he were sitting at our dining-room table with us.

And that night I dreamed of him. I was lying on that bed in the lodge and he was approaching me. I screamed and awakened, greatly relieved to find myself in my own homely bed.

I wondered then, was I ever going to banish that man from my life?

A few days later a letter came from Madame Dupont. She hoped I would come as soon as possible. Her sister-in-law wanted to talk business with me too. She also had a daughter and was eager to have a Collison miniature other.

“Of course,” she wrote, “I know you are committed to do the wife of Monsieur Villefranche first but please do not let him thrust someone else upon you before you do my sister-in-law’s girl.”

I was indeed a success. And he had done that for me, but I could not be grateful to him. I could feel nothing but hatred and disgust.

I would go earlier than I intended. I felt I had to get away from all the interrogation which I had to endure concerning my stay in Paris and I could not bear my father’s constant references to the Baron.

Moreover, life in Farringdon was not the same. I thought the vicarage family frankly boring and I had never been so very friendly with the Cambomes.

Clare was getting on very well in the village. She had fitted in like a native and was constantly at the vicarage, decorating the church and discussing means of raising money for the bells and involving herself generally in the affairs of the neighbourhood. They all liked her, but her particular friends were the Cambome twins. She talked to me about them. She was a little concerned because Hope had an admirer and she worried a little about poor Faith.

“What would she do,” she said, ‘if her twin married. She can’t join up with them, can she? I do think poor Faith is getting very apprehensive. How strange nature is . to make two people so close. ”

I scarcely listened. The affairs of the village had become very dull to me.

I was glad when the time came for me to leave.

My father said: “It looks as though you will have several commissions.

There is this new one coming along with the sister-in-law. You must take advantage of it. “

“It could mean quite a long stay in Paris,” I pointed out.

“The longer the better … at this stage. You have to get known. Later you can be more selective. It would be a mistake to overload the market, but just at first you must get known.”

“I feel I can leave you in safe hands.”

“Clare is wonderful. Shall I whisper something? She’s easier to get on with than Evie was.”

“That’s exactly what I think. Evie was a marvel of efficiency but Clare is more … what shall I say? She’s softer … more human . “

“You’re right. You couldn’t leave me in better hands. So … no need to worry about anything at home. Keep your mind on your work. You’re going to be the best Collison of us all.”

I was rather relieved when the time came for me to set out for Paris.

In spite of everything, I couldn’t help feeling exhilarated when I arrived in Paris. It was early evening when I stepped out of the train at the Gare du Nord and immediately caught that whiff of excitement which the city had previously aroused in me. I was caught up in the bustle and noticed immediately the noise. The French talked so much more loudly than we did in England and their hands were as expressive as their voices. I heard strains of music coming from somewhere; and I smelt the familiar smell of trains and perfume.

I thought then: The past is done with. I shall begin again from here.

But when the porter carried my bags and hailed a cab for me and I caught sight of the cocker with his blue coat and white hat, I could not stop the tremor of apprehension running through me. I would never entirely forget. Even as I stepped into the cab and was asked in a friendly voice where I wanted to go, I looked suspiciously into the smiling face and saw another there.

I pulled myself together and gave Madame Dupont’s address. I felt deeply moved as we trotted down the familiar

Boulevard Haussmann. The Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore was not far off.

The Duponts’ house was in the Boulevard Courcelles nestling among a row of tall white houses which I came to recognize as typical of the town houses of those who had estates in the country.

I suspected the Duponts were of that genre, as they had been guests of the Baron. I was sure he would only know people who were rich or of noble lineage.

I was almost surprised when the cab drew up and the cocker courteously helped me with my bags.

The door was opened by a manservant in dark blue livery with touches of silver about it. He greeted me with deference. I was evidently expected.

“Madame has asked that you be taken to her as soon as you arrive,” he told me.

“Pray come this way.”

He signalled to a boy in the same dark blue livery but with less silver braid, which I presumed indicated that he was of inferior rank, to take my bags, while I followed him into a large room with dark blue walls and white draperies which were most effective. It was a sort of reception hall. The man knocked on a door and with a flourish opened it and announced that Mademoiselle Collison had arrived.

Madame Dupont swam towards me.

“Welcome, Mademoiselle Collison,” she cried.

“It is a great pleasure to have you with us. We are looking forward to what you are going to do for us. Now, we want you to be very comfortable while you stay with us… and I do hope you will be able to work for my sister-in-law. She is most anxious for you to make a pretty picture of her young daughter.” Madame Dupont put a finger to her lips as though to conceal a smile.

“I don’t think you will find her such a rewarding subject as my girls. But you’ll do something beautiful with her, I know. I think perhaps you would like to go to your room first and then … shall we say … meet the girls? I believe you have to talk to them. draw them out. That was what the Baron suggested, I think. “

“Thank you, Madame Dupont,” I said.

“You are very kind.”

“And it has been a trying journey I have no doubt.”

“Well, it is long and the crossing is always difficult.”

“Yes, of course. Now would you like some refreshment or will you wait for dinner? It is for you to say.”

I said I would wait for dinner and she replied that she would summon a maid without delay to take me to my room.

This she did and I was conducted to a charming room on the first floor with windows which reached from ceiling to floor. It had dark walls and white curtains -which seemed to be the motif of the house. It was very attractive.

My bed had a beautiful tapestry headpiece in what I recognized as the Fontainebleau pattern near-white swirling flowers on a dark blue background. The coverlet was white broderie anglaise-charming and fresh. My dressing-table was curtained in dark blue velvet and it had a white-edged mirror with three sides.

My feelings rose in spite of everything.

It had been the best thing possible for me to come to Paris, I was sure, and after such brutal handling as I had suffered, after such bitter humiliation, it was comforting to be treated with respect. My spirits were rising. I was an artist to be recognized and appreciated.

I must put that horrifying episode behind me and make a new start. I was lucky in the fact that I had been given a chance to do so.

I changed into a dress of green brocade. I was prepared to live in an elegant society, and although I had not brought many clothes those I had were all quite adequate. I had learned something of what the French called chic during my brief stay in their country and I had, I think, been born with something in common with them: I loved the way in which they mingled colours and that elegance which could make the most plain among women look interesting. The fact was I had taken a step away from the past. I was on my way to a new life and I believed that in time I would forget the Baron.

I was interested in the house and longing to see my new subjects.

Already I was concerning myself with where I should work and how I should approach the portraits of the Demoiselles Dupont.

A certain feeling of elation continued throughout the evening. I diried with the family and Madame Dupont treated me as though I were a person of considerable importance. I was the great painter acclaimed by the Baron de Genteville. Monsieur Dupont was a mild gentleman who seemed intent on humouring his wife’s wishes and deferring to her in every way. I discovered later that he kept a pretty mistress in a little house on the Left Bank and his great aim was to keep his wife content so that she did not interfere with this very happy arrangement of his. The two daughters, Emilie and Sophie, did not interest me greatly as people, and only because they were subjects did I force myself to be concerned with them. They were seventeen and sixteen respectively on the verge of being brought out into society-hence the miniatures. They giggled a great deal and had a habit of whispering together, which I found irritating and rather bad manners.