“I daresay de la Tour has caused discomfort in some quarters.”

“Now, Henri, you are referring to Heloise and you don’t really know that he had anything to do with that.”

“It’s clear enough,” said my father. “He has been making himself agreeable to Lenore.”

“Then,” said Ursule to me, “perhaps you should beware.”

“Katie has formed a friendship with his son Raoul,” went on my father. “She has been over there today. He sent the carriage for her. I’d like to tell him to keep away.”

“Oh, you must be more diplomatic than that,” said Ursule. “In any case you with Lenore and Katie are leaving for Paris tomorrow, so you will all be out of harm’s way.”

I was interested to hear what they had to say about him. In fact, it is all I remember of that last evening with Ursule and Louis.

The next day we left for Paris.

The Countess was there. Grand’mere and Cassie were still in London.

“Why,” cried the Countess embracing me. “You look rejuvenated. What has happened to you?”

I found myself flushing.

“I enjoyed seeing the place,” I said.

“We went to the chateau,” Katie told her. “There was a falcon there and ever so many dogs … little puppies some of them. They have an oubliette which they push people into when they want to forget them for ever more.”

“I wish we had one here,” said the Countess. “Madame Delorme has brought the mauve velvet back. She says it is too tight. She could be the first one to go in, if I had my way.”

“If you leave them there they will die,” said Katie.

“Good idea!” replied the Countess. “But we want to hear all about this visit.”

Katie burst into a vivid description of the vendange.

“The best one was at the chateau. They danced in the tubs, Countess. Great big tubs and the juice was all over their feet and legs. But they scrubbed them before they started. It was a purple mess.”

“As Madame Delorme’s velvet will be by the time we have altered it to fit her increasing bulk.”

She talked a great deal about what had been happening in the salon during our absence, and I noticed that she kept watching me as though she thought I was harbouring some secret.

I had not been back three days when there was a caller at the salon. The Countess received him and came hurrying to me, beaming.

“A gentleman to see you. He wouldn’t give his name. He said he wanted to surprise you. What manners! What an air! Who is this man?”

“I had better go and see,” I said; but I knew before I saw him.

He was smiling at me almost sardonically.

“My dear Madame Sallonger, I was in Paris and I coald not return to Carsonne without looking you up.”

The Countess was beside me, bubbling over with excitement.

“The Countess of Ballader,” I said. “The Comte de Carsonne.”

“Well, I am delighted to meet you,” said the Countess.

“And I you, Countess.”

“You would like some refreshment?” she said. “A little wine?”

”The Comte is a connoisseur of wine,” I said.’ ‘He produces his own. I don’t think we have anything suitable for his palate.”

“Whatever you offered me,” he said, “would be nectar. I am so happy to be here in Paris.”

“A favourite city of yours, Comte?” asked the Countess.

“At the moment… my favourite.”

She left us together, smiling secretly. I turned to him.

“Please look pleased to see me,” he begged.

“I am so surprised.”

“Are you? Surely you did not think I would allow you to escape so easily.”

”It is not a matter of escape.”

“Forgive me. An ill chosen expression. I am delighted to see you. “You have a very elegant establishment here.”

“One must be elegant in Paris.”

“I accept the compliment on behalf of the city. While I am here I am going to show you a good deal of it.”

”I have been here some time, you know.”

”I know. But I am sure I can surprise you.”

”I have no doubt you will attempt to do that.”

The Countess returned with a bottle, some glasses and wine cakes. “Come into the sitting room,” she said. “It is more comfortable.”

She poured the wine into two glasses. “Now,” she went on, “I am going to leave you two as I am sure you wish to talk together.”

“How kind you are,” said the Comte.

She gave him a dazzling smile. I could see that she was a little fascinated by him and that she had decided that he was for me. Her profession had fitted her for selecting husbands for the unmarried in her circle and she was already planning for me.

She quite clearly did not know the Comte.

“What a charming lady,” he said.

“Yes. I have known her for some years. She used to bring people out, as they say. That is, she prepared them for presentation at Court, and helped them to find the right husbands.”

“What a useful lady she must be!”

“She no longer does that, of course. She is now one of the directors of our salon. How long are you staying in Paris?”

He smiled at me, lifting his shoulders. “Who can say? So much depends on … circumstances.”

“Where do you stay?”

“I have a place in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore just before it becomes the Rue Saint-Honore” at the Rue Royale.”

“I know the place.”

”It has been the family’s Paris residence for about fifty years. Our old hotel was burned down during the Revolution.”

“Are you in Paris often?”

“When business … or pleasure … brings me here.”

I heard Katie’s voice. She was arguing with the Countess.

”Your mother is busy.”

Katie peeped round the door. “Oh,” she cried in delight. “It’s the Comte.” She ran forward and held out her hand to be kissed.

The Comte responded gracefully.

“Where is Raoul?” she asked.

“Alas, he is in Carsonne.”

“Why didn’t you bring him with you?”

“I have important business here and he has his duties in Carsonne.”

“That’s a pity.”

“I will let him know what you said. He will be gratified.”

Mademoiselle Leclerc came in. She was obviously looking for Katie.

“This is Mademoiselle Leclerc, Katie’s French governess,” I said.

I was ashamed of the twinge of annoyance I felt as I saw his eyes upon her—assessing her, I thought. She was very pretty and younger than I. I noticed the effect he had on her; she flushed and her eyes seemed to brighten. One would never be sure of him, I thought.

Mademoiselle Leclerc said she had come to take Katie for a walk.

“Go along now, Katie,” I said.

”Shall you be here when I come back?” she asked the Comte.

“I hope to be,” he said.

She looked pleased and went off with her governess.

”What an enchanting child she is,” he said. “She could only be yours. I should like her to see more of Raoul.”

I was still thinking of the governess.

“So while I am here,” he went on, “I shall show you Paris.”

”As I told you, I am no stranger to it.”

”I mean the real Paris … which only a native can show you. I can think of so much I want you to see.”

I was wonderfully happy during the days that followed. I knew that I was falling under his spell and I told myself I need have no fear. I was not an innocent girl. I would always remember the sort of man I was dealing with … polished, worldly, looking for new sensations and fresh woods to conquer. I would always remember that and pride myself on my common sense.

But everything seemed different when he was around. He was indefatigable in his attempts to please me and the days were a kaleidoscope of shifting emotions … too delightful to set aside. I could be happy and carefree as I had not been for years, catching his moods, but always at the height of my pleasure I was aware of the warning voice. Every now and then the image of Heloise lying in the shallow water came to me. There was my mother, too. She had loved recklessly and unwisely. I could understand their feelings. It would be easy to give way to moments of recklessness with a man like this.

But mostly I gave myself up to the sheer enjoyment of those golden days. I learned a great deal about him. There was a serious side to his nature and his life was by no means given over entirely to sensual pleasures. He was deeply knowledgeable. He was something of a connoisseur of art. He was well versed in his country’s history and to be with him was to share that interest. His love of his country was fierce—and yet he was essentially critical which made discussion especially interesting. I felt I was learning a great deal about many things, including myself.

I looked forward to our meetings. I knew my father was anxious but I assured him he had no need to fear. He did though. The Countess was in a fever of excitement. She was completely fascinated by the Comte. He knew exactly how to treat all women and to adjust his attitude to what he believed would please them best.

He brought presents for Katie, flowers for the Countess. He deferred to my father. He was anxious to be on good terms with the entire household. It was part of his strategy.

He took us to the opera to see Orpheus in the Underworld. He told me it was a particular favourite of his because of the fun it poked at the gods. It was a delightful performance and we all enjoyed it. Even my father was laughing; and when we drove home the enchanting music was ringing in my ears. I told myself that it would be among my favourites ever after.

The Countess was eager that I should enjoy my expeditions. I said I should be working, but she would not hear of it.

“We can manage perfectly well,” she insisted. “After all, we did while you were away. This is just an extension of your holiday. Plenty of time for work … later.”

Those days sped by at an incredible rate. I knew I should never forget them. Paris is one of the most delightful cities in the world, and under the guidance of the Comte it was an enchanted place. Sometimes Katie accompanied us; but more often we were alone.

We climbed to Montmartre, he holding my arm as we mounted the steep streets. We visited the Cathedral, that rather bizarre oriental building which has always been so much a landmark of Paris. He talked of St. Denis, the patron saint of France, and the martyrs who had been put to death here. He showed me the great bell—Francoise-Marguerite or La Savoyarde de Montmartre which was nine feet tall. He made me listen to its unusual timbre. I had been here with my father when I first came to Paris but everything seemed to have acquired a new and exciting quality now. I was seeing much which I had seen before without noticing. He brought a new light to everything and that which had been insignificant had become of absorbing interest.

His sense of the past was ever-present. He talked sadly of the Revolution which had destroyed the old way of life, and bitterly of the masses and of his ancestors who had suffered at their hands. Only extraordinary good fortune had saved his branch of the family.

“The blood lust,” he said, “the bile of envy … the desire to destroy because this one has something which that one lacks.” He took me to the Conciergerie, into the vaulted Salle Saint Louis called the Salle des Pas Perdus on account of the fact that those condemned to die passed through it on their way to the guillotine. He was grim when we saw the cell in which Marie Antoinette had spent her last days. “Subject to humiliation inflicted by petty tyrants,” he said with venom.

Then I saw a different side to him. He was surprising me all the time.

His knowledge of art was profound as I discovered when we visited the Louvre. He showed me new aspects of pictures I had seen before. He was fascinated by Leonardo da Vinci and we stood for a long time in the Grande Galerie while he discussed the Virgin on the Rocks. Of course he had much to say on the Mona Lisa which had been in the country since 1793; and he told me how Francois Premier, who had cared deeply for artists, had brought Leonardo from Italy that he might have first claim on his works. “He was an artist manque, “he said, “as perhaps I am. But I am afraid there are a good many manques in my life.”

“One which is not, is the wisdom to know it,” I told him.

Such happy days! I shall never forget them. Each morning there was a fresh adventure. This, I told myself, is the way to live. But I reminded myself a hundred times a day, it was ephemeral. There had to be an ending … soon.

But I clung to each moment, savouring it to the full. I had an uneasy feeling that I was becoming his victim as he had all the time intended that I should. I had lost sight of that fact in discovering new sides to his nature.