In Margot’s bedroom the three of us were together.

“It worked!” cried Margot.

“It worked magnificently.” She added rather patronizingly: “You both played your parts well.”

“Not as well as you did,” I commented wryly.

“Naturally you had the leading part.”

“And I was the author of our little play. It was a wonderful idea, you must admit.”

“I’ll tell you at the end,” I said.

“Spoilsport.” She put out her tongue at me as she used to when we were in school together. Then she turned to Yvette.

“He grows more adorable every day. I wonder if he’ll remember you.”

“Let’s go and see,” said Yvette.

Chariot kicked and crowed with obvious pleasure at the sight of Yvette.

Margot picked him up and hugged him.

“Not too pleased, my angel, or you will make me jealous Yvette took him from her and laid him back in his cot.

“You over-excite him,” she said.

“He loves to be excited. Don’t forget he is my own flesh and blood.”

That,” said Yvette gently, ‘is something we must try to forget. You have him now. He is your adopted son. That is very satisfactory.”

“Do you think I shall ever forget that he is my very own?”

Yvette shook her head.

was because life in the chateau was in fact affected by what was happening outside and people no longer visited each other as they once had. The Comte and Comtesse de Grasseville did not care to have extravagant parties when there was so much talk about the poverty in the country. I think the Comte and his Comtesse really preferred the simpler life.

In any case that was how it was and it meant that Yvette and I often sat or walked together in the gardens where we could talk more easily without being overheard, and I think we both feared that by a word we might betray the true story of Chariot’s arrival at the chateau.

It was not long before Yvette was talking of the past.

The most exciting years of her life had been spent at the Chateau Silvaihe.

“I went there when I was fifteen years old,” she told me.

“It was my first post as nursery maid under Madame Rocher … otherwise Nou-Nou. She had gone to the Comtesse Ursule when she was born and was always with her. She adored Madame Ursule. Her whole life was concentrated on her. There was a story about it. She was married briefly … obviously to a Monsieur Rocher. What he did I never learned, but I did hear that there was some accident before her child was due to be born. He died and she lost the child as well. That was why she went to Ursule and it was said that Ursule saved her reason and she transferred her affection to her employer’s child. It was very sad.”

“Poor NouNou!”

“She was wet-nurse to Ursule and used to say: ” That child is part of me. ” She could scarcely bear her out of her sight and if ever Ursule was in trouble she would defend her without question. It was not good for the child. When she was very young, if any of us offended her she would threaten to tell Nou-Nou. Nou-Nou encouraged her in this and Ursule was quite an unpleasant little girl at that time. But she grew out of it. When she was about six or seven she drew away from Nou-Nou but not completely. They were too close for that, but she felt restrained, smothered by too much devotion. It can be like that.”

I agreed.

“What kind of woman was Ursule?”

“Before her marriage she was quite a normal girl, interested in balls and clothes. It was after her marriage that she changed.”

How long were you with her? “

“Until about six years ago. Margot was growing up then and there was no longer the need to keep a nursery. She had a governess and later she went to England, as you know. It was then that the Comte gave me my house and enough to live on and keep a servant. So I settled down with Jose and thought to spend the rest of my life there.”

“You will go back one day.”

“Yes, when Chariot is older, I dare say.”

“Do you miss the chateau! Your house with Jose must be very different.”

She was silent and a misty look came in her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, “I missed the chateau. I had one great friendship in my life. I don’t think I should ever want to go back.”

I longed to know of her great friendship though I felt it would be impolite to ask. I waited and soon it came.

“I know this sounds strange but our friendship grew up gradually. She was good-hearted but a little imperious. That was due to her upbringing.”

“You mean Ursule?”

“Yes. I had done something … I forget what now, but it offended her.

There was the usual cry of “I’ll tell NouNou.” I must have been in a perverse mood for I retorted: “All right, you little tale-bearer, tell her.” She stared at me. I remember now her little face, scarlet with rage. She must have been eight years old . yes, she was. I remember exactly. She ran to Nou-Nou, who of course came bearing down on me like an angel with a flaming sword to defend her darling. I said, “I am tired of always giving way to this spoilt child.”

“Then,” said Nou-Nou, “you had better pack your box and get out,”

“AU right,” I cried, “I will,” although I had nowhere to go. Nou-Nou knew my plight well.

“And where will you go?” she asked. I replied: “Anywhere is better than fussing over a silly spoilt child and her besotted old nurse.”

“Get out,” shouted Nou-Nou. Nou-Nou was the power in the Brousseau nursery. Madame and Monsieur Brousseau doted on their daughter and applauded Nou-Nou’s adulation, so if Nou-Nou said I was to go there could be no appealing less ness of my situation and gave way to despair. I put my head among my meagre treasures and sobbed in fear and misery. Then suddenly I was aware of being watched and when I lifted my head, saw Ursule standing there. I can still see her very clearly as she was at that moment.

Brown curls tied with blue ribbons and a white embroidered gown to her little ankles. She was a very pretty child with wide brown eyes and thick straight hair which Nou-Nou lovingly put into curl papers every night.

<I remember even now how she used to sit at NouNou’s feet while Nou-Nou twirled the papers deftly and sang songs of Brittany where she came from, or told legends and stories in a sing-song monotonous voice which used to send us all to sleep. At that moment as Ursule looked at me something passed between us. I realized with a little shock that the child was actually sorry for the storm she had provoked.

Previously I had thought her a little minx with no thought for anyone but herself. But no, she had some feeling in her.

“The odd part about it was, she told me later, that some feeling for me started to grow in her then. She didn’t know what it was. All she knew was that she did not want me to go. She said, imperious as ever:

“Don’t put any more in your box.” And then with an amazing gentleness she took the things out and laid them back in the drawers. Nou-Nou came in and, seeing me still kneeling on the floor, looking dazed, said:

“Come on, girl. It’s time you had done.” Then my little champion lifted her head in a way she had and said: “She is not going, Nou-Nou.

I want her to stay. “

“She’s a bad, insolent girl,” said Nou-Nou.

“I know,” replied Ursule, ” but I want her to stay. “

“Why, my little darling, she called you a tattle taler

“Well, I am, Nou-Nou. I do tattletale. want her to stay.” Poor Nou-Nou, she was nonplussed, but of course her little darling’s word was law. “p>

“So she changed from that day?”

“It wasn’t so sudden as that. We had our ups and downs. But I never gave way to her as Nou-Nou did, and I think she liked that. I was a good deal younger than Nou-Nou. I was about fifteen at this time when Ursule was eight. Then it was a big difference. It grew less as we grew older. From that day she took an interest in me. I was in a way her creation because but for her I should have been turned away.

Although she was still Nou-Nou’s little pet and was constantly in her company, she would often sneak away to me and she began to confide in me in an astonishing way. Nou-Nou was a little jealous at first but she realized that her relationship with her darling was very different from mine and so devoted was she to Ursule that she was ready to accept anything that gave her pleasure.

“I had a flair for clothes not making them … we had the seamstresses for that … but adding little touches to them, making suggestions which could lift a dress out of the commonplace. Ursule would have me with her when the seamstresses were fitting her. We used to go into the town together to make purchases, for she would insist that I accompany her.

“That was not all. She often asked my advice although she rarely took it. We became fast friends in a way which was not usual between a servant and the daughter of the house.

“The Brousseau parents, as I said, were indulgent. Yvette is a good girl, they used to say. She looks after Ursule as Nou-Nou couldn’t.

And so we grew together like two sisters. “

“And that was the greatest friendship of your life. What made you leave?”

“I offended the Comte. I told Ursule that she should stand up to him and criticized him to his face. He said that Marguerite no longer needed a nurse for I was looking after her at that time. And he seat me away.”

“I wonder Ursule allowed it.”

Yvette’s lips curled.

“Everything had changed very much by then. It did after her marriage. He frightened her from the first moment she saw him.”

“So in spite of the fact that he gave you your home and your comfortable retirement you do not like him.”

“Like him!” She laughed. It seems an odd word to use in connection with him. I wonder if anyone likes the Comte. People fear him. There’s no doubt of that. Many respect his wealth and position. Many more hate him. I suppose those who indulge in passing amours with him might say they loved him. Buth’feehim! “

“And you are one of those who hate him?”

“I would hate anyone who did what he did to Ursule.”

“Was he so cruel to her?”

“If she had never married him she would still be alive today.”

“You are not saying that he … killed her?”

“My dear Mademoiselle, I am saying just that.”

I shook my head and she put her hand over mine.

After that she said nothing more and for that day our tete-a-tete was over.

I thought a great deal about what Yvette had said. It was almost as though she had some secret information. If she had, I must discover what it was. That it would be detrimental to the Comte she had imp Bed

I shivered as I recalled vividly the expression on her face when she had talked of his killing his wife.

If he were there beside me I would be ready to believe this could not be true; when he was not with me I could assess the facts more calmly.

I must talk to Yvette. If I knew more of Ursule’s nature I might be able to throw some light on the subject.

Margot asked me to go into the town to buy ribbons for a gown that was being made for Chariot.

“You must go, Minelle,” she said.

“You will choose the right colour.”

I went alone. There had never been any question of our being escorted by day in -Grasseville and it would not be the first time I had gone into the town by myself.

The Chateau Grasseville far less grand than that of Silvaine was rather like a glorified country mansion scarcely worthy of the name chateau. The family owned another castle forty miles north-much bigger, I beard-but this was their favourite. It was gracious enough with its four pepper-pot towers and its grey stone walls rising from the slight incline which enabled it to remain in sight of the town and, standing aloof as it did, to dominate it.

It was mid-morning. The sun was beginning to climb. In a few hours it would be very hot.

As I walked into the town several people called a greeting. One woman seated on a basket asked how the little one was. I told her that Chariot was very well indeed.

“Poor mite! To be left like that. I would wring the neck of a mother.

Mademoiselle, who left a little one. Yes, I would, as easily as Monsieur Berray wrings the necks of his chickens. “

“No one could be better cared for than young Chariot is now, Madame.”

“I know it well. And young Madame … she is born to be a mother.