"Thank you," we said and we set off over the uneven ground towards the great rock.

"There must have been a violent volcanic eruption here," I commented. "So Pilcher's was formed and much much later the oak tree grew. Seeds dropped by a bird, I daresay. Most of them are pines around here. Don't they smell delicious!"

We had almost reached the oak growing close to the rock. "This must be it," said Lydia, throwing herself down and stretching out on the grass. "This smell makes me feel sleepy."

"That lovely redolent odour," I said, sniffing eagerly. "Yes, there is something soporific about it."


"What now we're here?" asked Frieda.

"Sit down ... and wait and see."

"I think it's foolish," said Frieda.

"Well, it's an outing. Somewhere to go. Let's pretend we are shopping for gloves for my Aunt Patty. I do want to get her some before I leave."

"Stop talking about leaving," said Lydia. "I don't like it."

Frieda yawned.

"Yes," I said, "I certainly feel like that too."

I stretched myself out on the grass and the others did the same. We lay there, propping up our heads with our hands and gazing up through the branches of the oak tree.

"I wonder what it was like when they threw people over," I went on. "Just imagine being taken up to the top, knowing you were going to be thrown over ... or perhaps asked to jump. Perhaps some fell on this spot."

"You make me feel creepy," said Lydia.

"I suggest," put in Frieda, "that we go back to the wagonette and go into the town after all."

"Those little cakes with the coloured cream are delicious," said Monique.

"Would there be time?" asked Frieda.

"No," said Lydia.

"Be quiet," I commanded. "Give it a chance." We were all silent and just then he came through the trees.

He was tall and very fair. I noticed his eyes immediately. They were piercing blue, and there was something unusual about them; they seemed as though they were looking beyond us into places which we could not see ... or perhaps I imagined that afterwards. His clothes were dark and that accentuated his fairness. They were elegantly cut but not exactly in the height of fashion. His coat had a velvet collar and silver buttons, and his hat was black, tall, and shiny.

We were all silent as he approached- awe-struck, I suppose, devoid for the moment of our Schaffenbrucken polish.

"Good afternoon," he said in English. He bowed. Then he went on: "I heard your laughter and I had an irresistible urge to see you."

Stiil we said nothing and he went on: "Tell me, you are from the school, are you not?"

I said: "Yes, we are."

"On an excursion to Pilcher's Peak?"

"We were resting before we went back," I told him, as the others seemed to remain tonguetied.

"It's an interesting spot," he went on. "Do you object to my talking to you for a moment?"

"Of course not." We all spoke together. So the others had recovered from their shock.

He sat down a little distance from us and surveyed his long legs.

"You are English," he said, looking at me.

"Yes... I and Miss Markham. This is Mademoiselle Delorme and Frâulein Schmidt."

"A cosmopolitan group," he commented. "Yours is the school for the young ladies of Europe. Am I right?"

"Yes, that is it."

"Tell me why did you take this excursion to Pilcher's Peak today? Is it not rather a summer outing?"

"We thought we'd like to see it," I said, "and I probably shan't have an opportunity again. I'm leaving at the end of the year."

He raised his eyebrows. "Is that so? And the other young ladies?"

"We shall have another year, I expect," said Monique.

"And then you return to France?"

"Yes."

"You are all so young ... so merry," he said. "It was very pleasant to hear your laughter. I was drawn towards it. I felt for a moment that I must join you. I must share your spontaneity."

"We didn't realize that we were so alluring," I said, and everybody laughed.

He looked about him. "What a pleasant afternoon! There is a stillness in the air, do you feel it?"

"Yes, I think I do," said Lydia.

He looked up at the sky. "Indian summer," he said quietly. "You will all go to your various homes for Christmas, will you not?"

"It is one of the holidays we all go home for. That and the summer. Easter, Whitsun and the rest, well..."

"The journey is too far," he finished for me. "And your families will welcome you," he went on. "They will have balls and banquets for you and you will all marry and live happy ever after, which is the fate which should await all beautiful young ladies."

"And doesn't always ... or often," said Monique.

"We have a cynic here. Tell me," his eyes were on me. "Do you believe that?"

"I think life is what you make it," I was quoting Aunt Patty. "What is intolerable to some is comfort to others. It is the way in which one looks upon it."

"They certainly teach you something at that school."

"That's what my aunt always says."

"You have no parents." It was a statement rather than a question.

"No, they died in Africa. My aunt has always looked after me."

"She's a marvellous person," said Monique. "She runs a school. She's just about as different from Madame de Guérin as anyone could be. Cordelia is the lucky one. She's going to work with her aunt and share the school, which will be hers one day. Can you imagine Cordelia as a headmistress!"

He was smiling directly at me. "I can imagine Cordelia's being anything she wishes to be. So she is a lady of substance, is she?"

"If you ask me she is the luckiest of the lot of us," said Monique.

He continued to look at me steadily. "Yes," he said, "I think Cordelia can be very lucky indeed."

"Why do you say 'can be'?"asked Frieda.

"Because it will depend on her herself. Is she cautious? Does she hesitate or does she grasp opportunities when they are presented to her?"

The girls looked at each other and at me.

"I'd say she would," said Monique.

"Time will tell," he replied.

He had a strange delivery, which was a little archaic. Perhaps that was because he was speaking English which might not have been his native tongue although he was very fluent. I fancied I caught a trace of a German accent.

"We always have to wait for time to tell us," said Frieda rather pettishly.

"What do you wish then, young lady? To take a glimpse into the future?"

"That would be fun," said Monique. "There was a fortune teller in the town. Madame de Guérin put that out of bounds ... but I believe some of them went."

"It can be very absorbing," he said.

"You mean ... to look into the future?" That was Monique and he leaned forward and took her hand. She gave a little squeal. "Oh ... can you tell the future then?"

"Tell the future? Who can tell the future? Though sometimes there are visions ..."

We were all subdued now. I felt my heart beating wildly. There was something very extraordinary about this encounter.

"You, Mademoiselle," he said, gazing at Monique, "you will laugh through life. You will go back to your family château." He dropped her hand and closed his eyes. "It is in the heart of the country. There are vineyards surrounding it. The pepper pot towers reach to the sky. Your father is a man who makes arrangements worthy of his family. He is a proud man. Will you marry as he wishes, Mademoiselle?"

Monique looked a little shaken.

"I suppose I shall marry Henri ... I quite like him really."

"And your father would never allow it to be otherwise. And you, Frâulein, are you as docile as your friend?"

"It's hard to say," said Frieda in her matter-of-fact way. "I sometimes think I shall do what I please and then when I'm home ... it's different."

He smiled at her. "You do not deceive yourself and that is a great asset in life. You will always know which way you are going and why-although it is not always the path which you would choose."

Then he turned to Lydia. "Ah, Miss," he said, "what is your fortune?"

"Heaven knows," said Lydia. "I imagine my father will be more concerned with my brothers. They're a good bit older than I and they always think boys are more important."

"You will have a good life," he said.

Lydia laughed. "It's almost as though you are telling our fortunes."

"Your fortunes are for you to make,

"I only have certain ... what shall I say ... sensitivities."

"It's Cordelia's turn," said Monique.

"Cordelia's turn?" he said.

"You haven't told her anything yet ... about what's going to happen."

"I have said," he replied mildly, "that that will depend on Cordelia."

"But haven't you anything to tell her?"

"No," he said. "Cordelia will know ... when the time comes."

There was a deep silence. I was very much aware of the quietness of the forest and looming over us the grotesque formation of rock, which one's imagination could easily twist into menacing shapes.

It was Monique who spoke. "It's rather uncanny here," she said and shivered.

Suddenly a sound broke the silence. It was the rather melodious call of the wagoner. His voice seemed to hit the mountain and echo through the forest.

"We should have started back ten minutes ago," said Frieda. "We'll have to hurry."

We all jumped to our feet.

"Goodbye," we said to the stranger.

Then we started down the path. After a few seconds I looked back. He had disappeared.


We were late back but nothing was said and no one asked to see the gloves which we were supposed to have bought in the town.

Elsa came to our room after supper. It was that half hour before prayers which was followed by our retiring for the night.

"Well," she said, "did you see anything?" Her eyes glistened with curiosity.

"There was ... something," admitted Frieda.

"Something ..."

"Well, a man," added Monique.

"The more I think of him," added Lydia, "the more strange he seemed."

"Do tell," cried Elsa. "Do tell."

"Well, we were sitting there ..."

"Lying there," said Frieda who liked details to be exact.

"Stretched out under the tree," went on Lydia impatiently, "when he was suddenly there."

"You mean he appeared?"

"You could call it that."

"What was he like?"

"Handsome. Different ..."

"Go on. Goon..."

We were all silent trying to remember exactly what he had looked like.

"What's the matter with you all?" demanded Elsa. "Well, it was rather strange when you come to think about it," said Monique. "Did it strike you that he seemed to know something about us all. He described the château with the vines and towers."

Frieda said: "Many châteaux in France have their Vineyards and almost all have pepper pot towers."

"Yes," said Monique. "And yet ..."

"I think he was most interested in Cordelia," announced Lydia.

"Why should you think that?" I demanded. "He didn't tell me anything."

"It was the way he looked at you."

"You're not telling me anything," complained Elsa. "I sent you there, don't forget. I've a right to know."

"I'll tell you what happened," said Frieda. "We were silly enough to go to the forest when we might have gone into the town and had some of those delicious cream cakes ... and because we'd been so silly we tried to make something happen. All Chat did was that a man came up, said he liked to hear us laugh and talk for a while."

"Trust Frieda to get it all neatly tied up," said Lydia. "But I can't help thinking that there was more to it than that."

"I reckon he's a future husband for one of you," said Elsa. "That's how the story goes."

"If you believe that why didn't you go and meet yours," I asked.

"How could I get away. I'm watched. They'd suspect me of shirking my duties."

"Rest assured," said Frieda, "that those suspicions will soon be confirmed."

Elsa laughed with us.

She at least was delighted with the excursion.

All through November we were making plans to go home. For me it was a time tinged with sadness. I was going to hate saying goodbye to them all; but on the other hand I was looking forward to going home. Monique, Frieda and Lydia all said we must keep in touch. Lydia lived in London but her family had a country house in Essex where she spent most of her holidays, so we should not be so very far away from each other.