He had changed very little. He was still arrogant, overbearing, unpredictable, but after all, that was the man with whom I had fallen in love, so I would not have had him change. Life was not easy with him. I had not expected it to be. He used to talk vehemently of the rabble and I could see that his life in prison had left an indelible mark on him. He was bitter; he would never be completely content until he was back in France and had regained his estates. France was in his blood and he loved, his native land with an abiding passion. We quarrelled in a lighthearted way comparing our two countries, and he was always determined that one day we should go back.

Margot had another son and I was so happy that she, could give Robert the reward he wanted most. Chariot was growing into a strong, healthy boy. I often wondered about his father and I heard later from one of the servants that he had gone north and was doing very well up there.

Joel never married. I felt conscience-stricken about Joel. He was so good and kind; and without him we could never have brought my husband out of the Conciergerie. I wished that he would marry and be very happy. He deserved the best.

We were very sad on the day the King of France was executed and when he was shortly followed to the scaffold by the Queen that seemed the end of the old way of life.

They will never prosper, these murderers,” said Charles Auguste.

“They will fail, just as we failed. Then we shall go back to France and start again.”

I have changed a good deal, I believe. Charles Auguste says: “The schoolmistress has receded but she is ready to pop out now and then.

She will keep us in good order, I don’t doubt, until the end of our days. “

I am content, I have known great ecstasy and great fear-great joy and great sorrow. I suppose that is what life is , about.

My marriage has not been a bed of roses, as they say. We have quarrelled a great deal. Charles Auguste has an indomitable will and hates to be crossed; and I am a woman who could never suppress her own opinions if she thinks them to be right. It is inevitable that our lives should be stormy. It is what we both expect. But perhaps neither of us seeks the peaceful way, the essence of which is its uneventful tenor. It was the sort of life I should have had at Derringham and which my mother wanted for me.

When Charles Auguste went back to France for a brief visit to see what had happened to his estates, I did everything in my power to prevent his going. When he was adamant, I was determined to go with him. This he forbade, but I went all the same. I followed him, crossed on the same packet and when he came to the inn where he was to stay he found me there.

His fury was great. How violently we quarrelled! He had refused to take me with him because it might be dangerous. I had refused to stay for the same reason. That clash of wills! how often was it exercised. Sometimes he was the victor; sometimes I. I remember how we made love in that old inn at Calais after we had somehow laughed at our fury.

And After There could be no doubt that we were made for each other.

So the years passed.

The revolution was over, and those who had escaped started coming back. Leon distinguished himself in Napoleon’s army.

The new regime was no more successful than the old. There would always be men without possessions who wanted those of others, and envy, hatred, malice, indifference to others would prevail for ever, it seemed.

We went back to the chateau which was miraculously unscathed. What a thrill it was to mount those steps to the platform and look back . and back . Margot and Robert and their three children returned with Charles Auguste, myself and our two sons. And so life went on . uneasily sometimes. There was conflict between our two countries, for when the new France had risen from the ashes, she had sought to conquer the-world under the Corsican adventurer. We used to discuss, argue, rarely agreeing. I was for my country; he was for his.

Once he said to me: “Do you know, you ought to have married Joel Derringham. You would have agreed about everything. Just imagine how easy life would have been.”

“Do you really think I should have?” I asked.

He shook his head and looked at me in the mocking way which was so familiar to me now and which I had first seen when I had opened his bedroom door and was caught peering in.

“It would have been too dull for one of your temperament, too easy.

You would have become like hundreds of other ladies. You would have shrunk instead of expanding. You would have been charming and pleasant and inwardly bored. Have you ever been bored since you married me?

Come, tell the truth. “

“No. But I have been exasperated. I have been furiously angry. I have asked myself why I stay with you.”

“And what was the answer to that all-important question?”

“The answer was that I only stayed with you because I should have been the most miserable woman on earth if ever I left you.”

He laughed, but as he drew me to him and held me fast he was suddenly tender.

“Rejoice,” he cried.

“At last we are in agreement.”